Chapter Seventeen
A couple days later, Rebecca stared at her screen in the Gazette office, tweaking the article Mrs. Roberts had suggested she write regarding fibromyalgia. Per her, it might help bring awareness to the condition within the parameters of town and make people more understanding. Graham had thought it a great idea, too, and had gotten quotes from a few medical personnel near Atlanta.
She rolled her head to stretch her neck. Her body had calmed down since her afternoon of gardening, but the ever-present achiness was always there. Especially because it was due to rain again this afternoon. Springtime in the south. It still beat fall, winter, or spring up north.
After his parents had headed back to Minnesota yesterday, Graham had been acting normal. Less brooding and troubled, more like his affable self. She wasn’t sure what discussion he’d had with them that might’ve set him off, but she hadn’t gotten the impression he wanted to talk about it.
Thus, they hadn’t.
Yet, her revelation about falling in love with him hung in her peripheral, waiting to be addressed. She’d spouted the three words in past relationships to a couple partners, but in honesty, she knew now she’d been lying, if by complete unawareness. What she felt for Graham, how they were together, was like realizing she’d been dating with her eyes shut before him. Still, she didn’t want to rush him or make him feel pressured to say it back.
Worry ate at her esophagus he might not feel the same.
Maybe she should call her besties to hang out tonight. Hash it out with them first.
The front door chimed, and she glanced up from her computer in the back of the building. It was too soon for Graham to be back from picking up food, and she’d just flipped the storefront sign to Closed during the noon hour.
Gunner Davis strode in, hiking up his trousers and looking around.
Interesting.
She rose, wondering what on earth the mayor was doing at the Gazette in the middle of the day. “Hello, sir. What can I help you with?”
He wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and repocketed it as he walked to her desk. “Hello, darlin’. Graham around?”
“No, he went to grab some sandwiches from What A Pickle.” They’d probably be backed up with orders this time of day, plus Graham liked to take a walk during lunch. She glanced past Gunner through the window. The sky still threatened rain, but it hadn’t let loose yet. “He might be awhile.”
Plucky II chirped as if to confirm her statement.
“Good.” He dragged a chair from Joan and Jefferson’s station, pulling it beside her desk. He set his briefcase on the floor. “Wanted to run something by you.” He deposited his girth into the chair and rested his hands on his knees, winded.
Alrighty. She reclaimed her seat. She hoped to all that was holy it didn’t involve interviewing him for an article. There wasn’t a soul in Vallantine who didn’t know the mayor or his life story. She couldn’t listen to another of Gunner’s ‘back in my day’ lessons without wanting to rip her ears off.
“Been thinking about The Gazette and what to do with it.”
Her gut bottomed out. Gunner had given Graham six months to turn the paper around. He still had a little over a month to go, but he’d done what Gunner wanted. Graham had raised subscribers, revenue, and interest in their fledgling little paper. Advertising was through the roof from the independent shops. What was there to discuss?
Unsure what to say, or even if she could force out words, she kept mum. She stared at his thinning, neatly combed white strands, at the green polo stretched across his paunch, at his clean-shaven jaw, and wondered why he’d been relieved Graham wasn’t here.
Nothing was adding up, nor sounding optimistic, and her stomach started eating itself.
“Library renovations are coming along?”
Seriously? What next? Nice weather we’re not having? “Dorothy’s scheduling the contractors. It looks like they’ll be starting sometime in the next six weeks.”
He nodded because he obviously knew that intel. Forest ran everything for the Historical Society through the mayor’s office. She really wished Gunner would get on with it.
“Are you planning on sticking with the Gazette after the library reopens?”
“Yes.” Expelling a breath of relief, she leaned back in her chair. That’s what he was worried about. Her leaving an open position at the newspaper. “Between the three of us, we’re working out details for how to balance work and the library.”
He nodded again. “And what if I were to offer you the paper?”
Offer her the…“What?”
Graham was editor. Not her. What in tarnation was going on up in here? Gunner didn’t seem to know whether to check his ass or scratch his watch if he thought she’d take the job from Graham.
“I do believe you heard me, Miss Rebecca.” Up went his brows.
“Explain. What do you mean by offer me the paper?”
“Just how it sounds.” He straightened, casting a glance around before resettling on her. “You did all this, from the framed art to the canary.”
“I helped.”
“Per Graham, it was all your idea.”
She had a horrible, horrible feeling where this conversation was going, and her belly was rejecting the coffee she drank this morning as a result.
Carefully, she pulled a deep breath and let it out. “I had ideas. So did Forest, Scarlett, Dorothy, and Graham, the latter being the one who tabulated all those ideas into data for execution. He has a mind for business and a critical editorial eye. I’m simply more creative. Both are needed.”
He never took his gaze from her, just kept bobbing his head slowly like a demented toy on a dashboard. “You’re one of us.”
That’s what this was about? Graham being a Yankee? “So is he, you know. He owns a house, supports the small businesses, and pays his taxes here in Vallantine. Discrimination doesn’t look good on anyone, especially a mayor. I was gone almost ten years. Does that mean I’m not one of you anymore? There’s a big world out there, and getting stuck in a small town mindset would hurt The Gazette, especially accounting for tourism. For years, the newspaper was in the red. He got you out of that rut. We got it thriving again.”
A smirk lifted one corner of his mouth, indicating he’d not only expected, but appreciated her reply. Or he found her amusing. So, what the hell, then? Why was he here? Irritation tapped her temples as she narrowed her eyes.
“What happens if this little affair of yours goes sour?”
Now he was overstepping, and it was sticking in her craw. “My personal life is none of your concern. I do my job, and I do it well. So does Graham.” She leaned forward. “Our relationship will not sour, but if we do happen to go our separate ways on some distant day, we’re both adults enough to be professional.”
Gunner cleared his throat and puffed his cheeks. After a beat, he rose and replaced his chair. “There was a time, Miss Rebecca, you would’ve battered and deep fried me for a question like that.”
She gritted her teeth. “Trust me, I’m still thinking about it.”
“Good to know.” He smiled, and for the first time since he’d entered, it reached his eyes. “You were a lil spitfire of a thing as a young girl. I watched you grow, hoping the world wouldn’t douse your flame. No matter what life threw, you were always able to dust yourself off. Some folks could learn a thing or two from you. I’m mighty proud of you, and Mavis would be, too.”
Well, crap. How was she supposed to stay mad? Emotion tightened her airway, so she focused on arranging her pens.
He glanced around anew, arm draped over the top of her cubicle. “I assume that’s a no to my offer?”
He hadn’t actually offered her the job, though, had he? He’d skirted around the topic as if gauging her skin in the game. Regardless…
“That’s a firm no, and I’ll elaborate a step beyond so there’s no confusion. Graham goes, I go. He stays, I stay. None of which has anything to do with personal feelings.”
Brown bag of market sandwiches in hand, Graham stepped out of the deli onto Main and glanced at the sky. Angry black and greenish clouds hovered over the town like a shroud. They’d been calling for storms all day. Luckily, nothing serious, but the static in the air was palpable. Hopefully, it’ll have cleared out by the time he and Rebecca had to head home. Neither of them had driven today.
Townsfolk had started to thin on the cobblestone sidewalks in preparation, but there were a few stragglers, Mrs. Boone included. The mayor’s secretary looked up from digging in her purse and smiled at Graham. Her lime-colored dress seemed to make the salt-and-pepper coifed hairstyle appear green, too. Or maybe that was the clouds overhead.
“Can I give you a hand with anything?” She seemed aflutter.
“No, but aren’t you a dear! Mr. Davis wanted me to grab his lunch for after his meeting with Rebecca. Honestly, why he couldn’t just get it while over here, I’ll never know. That man!”
“Right,” he mumbled, distracted. Gunner Davis’s little red sportscar was parked outside The Gazette across the street, about five shops down. Rebecca hadn’t mentioned a meeting. “What’s he want with her?”
He was more than a little concerned Gunner would try to throw his weight around. He’d assured Graham he wanted no hand in things when it came to the newspaper, that he’d stay out of the business end, but after that impromptu drop by last time, Graham wasn’t so sure. The mayor had been cryptic and…well, weird. It hadn’t sat right in Graham’s gut ever since.
“Oh, about taking over The Gazette, of course!” She fumbled in her purse, muttering about a wallet, while his stomach landed somewhere near his knees. “There it is. You have a blessed day. Stay dry, young man.”
“You, too,” he managed, staring at The Gazette’s window.
The Earth could’ve rotated the sun and they developed a cure for cancer in the amount of time he stood at the curb, frozen. A hollow fissure formed in his chest, just below the knot in his trachea.
A meeting implied scheduling. Which meant, Rebecca had known Gunner would be by, and during lunch when Graham typically left the office.
Taking over The Gazette? His worst nightmare. That Gunner would replace him or stop the press altogether had been looming over Graham for months. He had nowhere to go if this didn’t work out. No one would hire him. What had Gunner’s secretary meant by that statement? Was he being fired? Replaced by Rebecca?
Had she known?
The worst, the absolute worst part, was the possibility she’d been in on it from the start. Had they used him and his skills to get the print in the black again, and then planned to toss him out? Had their romantic relationship been a ruse?
No. That wasn’t like her. He dismissed the errant thought immediately. She didn’t have it in her to hurt another or be deceitful, to any degree. She was more honest than any ten people he’d come across in his career. What they shared was real and vivid and potent. But…
He straightened, cold to the bone.
But, would she accept his job if it had been offered to her?
After mulling it over, he didn’t think so, nor did he think she’d have known what Gunner was up to before today. She had done nothing but defend Graham since he’d hired her. She hadn’t succeeded out in the big bad world. His career had nosedived straight into a flatline. And when push came to shove, she was a local, him merely an outsider, which would matter to Gunner.
Shit. There was only one way to find out what was going on, but his feet weren’t cooperating.
Whatever. Checking for cars, he crossed the street and strode to the office, yanking the door open.
Rebecca, still at her desk, peeked over her monitor. Next to her, Gunner stood with his arm resting on her cubicle, a never-may-care expression as he glanced at Graham.
He set the sandwiches on the entryway table. “What’s going on?”
She rose and opened her mouth, but Gunner got the jump on her.
“I was going over some Gazette business.”
Graham tilted his head despite the oh-shit pummeling his innards. “Wouldn’t that involve me being present?”
“Not in this case.”
Temples throbbing, Graham looked at Rebecca to gauge her response. She could be quite expressive when her guard was down, and he desperately needed reassurance. The chewing of her lower lip and wrench in her brows indicated nothing short of being caught red-handed.
Brick by brick, his world began to implode a second time. Except, this time, he’d not done anything wrong. Pointedly, he stared at Gunner, waiting him out.
“Whelp.” Gunner dropped his arm and strode to the front of the room near the display stand. “I came to ask Miss Rebecca her thoughts on taking over the Gazette.”
Graham nodded once. He’d heard that much from the mayor’s secretary. What he hadn’t heard were the words straight from the horse’s mouth. How petty, immature, and underhanded.
And Rebecca? They’d been intimate. Were co-workers and, he’d thought, friends. Neighbors. Lovers. Her betrayal cut deeper than his former editor not having his back, than his career abruptly being cut short, or than the woman he’d been dating at the time walking out on him instead of offering support.
Attempting to swallow, he glared at Rebecca, keeping his voice deathly low. “And what did you say?”
It took point five seconds to realize his mistake.
Centimeter by centimeter, she straightened to a position so erect, it made his spine hurt. Her expression flatlined into an unrecognizable version of the warm, affectionate woman he’d come to know over the past few months. Lips thinned, gorgeous blue eyes narrowed, she shook her head in blatant disbelief and unadulterated rage.
Her initial reaction to Gunner’s blanketed admission hadn’t been guilt, as Graham had assumed. It had been worry etched in her features and concern about Graham or his job, not because she’d had remorse for stabbing him in the back. He’d been too stunned and angry to notice or correctly read her cues.
But it was too late. The damage had already been done with his accusation wrapped around a question, and spoken to her in a tone where nothing she could say would be believed.
He was a fucking idiot.
“Rebecca…”
She lifted her palm, halting anything he might’ve spouted.
Closing her laptop, she shoved it in her bag, grabbed her purse, and wove around her desk. She paused a mere moment to pin those big blue saucers on him, shrouded in ice. “Bless your heart.”
As the door closed behind her with a quiet click, it may as well have been a resounding thud to him. An urgent need to go after her battled with the flagrant desire to set the record straight to his boss. None of this was okay. Not one damn thing.
He pinched his eyes shut, sighing.
“She said, if he goes, I go. If he stays, I stay.”
Opening his eyes, Graham stared at Gunner, debating who he should punch first, his boss or his own face. Neither would solve anything or take back the past five minutes.
The man shrugged, as if he’d said the grass was green. “In case you were wondering, that was the answer she gave me about taking over the paper.”
Graham had hit his limit. Stick a fork in him. “I gave you everything. All my experience, my time, my knowledge. Granted, you took a chance on hiring me, and I appreciate that more than you know, but I moved a thousand miles to accept this position. I utilized what we had, sought advice and proper help, and rebuilt this paper. Sales and subscriptions are up. Content is precisely what the town asked for and more. Advertising is a continuous steady stream. I stay late and show up early every single day.”
Letting out a gale force wind, he slapped his palms to his thighs. “And you repay me by going behind my back to the woman I’m romantically involved with, whom I hired, to offer her my position without bothering to show me the respect I deserve or fire me to my face. Hell, I can’t blame you for the decision. She’s sharp as a tack and can do the job better. She deserves the promotion. None of my success would be possible without her. But, damn. I gave you everything I had left in me, Gunner.”
“Now, son. Not once did I say anyone was getting fired.”
Splitting hairs. Graham had ejected verbal diarrhea, and the man was splitting hairs.
He grabbed the paper bag of sandwiches and strode to his office. His appetite was gone. Rebecca was gone. His job was gone. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
When he was nine years old, he’d fleetingly wanted to be an astronaut. Perhaps NASA was hiring.
Tossing the bag in the fridge, he slammed the door shut.
Gunner had followed him and leaned against the doorway, hands shoved in his pants pockets. “I didn’t go behind your back, either.”
Exhausted, his give-a-shit gone, Graham dropped in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk, crossing his ankles. “The last nerve I have left is on fire, Mayor.”
A huffed laugh, and Gunner shoved off the frame. He went to Rebecca’s desk, where he pulled a file out of a briefcase on the floor, and returned to Graham’s office, easing into one of the chairs across from him.
“I had my reservations about you.” Gunner cleared his throat. “You had experience, but I didn’t know if you’d make a good fit or could pull off the job having not been a Vallantine native. Sometimes, a person’s gotta hit rock bottom before they can climb out again. That’s where you were when I offered you the position. Rock bottom, son. You started to claw out when you hired our Rebecca.”
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his brow, and repocketed it once more. “My mind was set on you that evening a couple weeks ago when I visited to check on things. You didn’t take credit for her work when I asked about the changes. Know what else you didn’t do? You didn’t ignore her suggestions or brush her aside. The big city chewed up our girl and spit her back out again, but instead of adding to her beating, you picked her up. That’s the measure of a good man.”
Shit. At a loss, and suddenly, stupidly emotional, Graham swiped a hand over his face. Throat tight, chest pinched, he stared at the ceiling, trying to gain composure.
“She keeps things close to the vest unless someone’s lucky enough to earn her trust. I attribute that to her folks’ passing while she was so young.” Gunner shifted in the chair. “I wanted her alone to poke at her without you lurking. That’s why I came today, and she answered exactly how I figured.”
Leaning forward, he tossed the file he’d been holding onto Graham’s desk, bumping his chin toward it.
“What is this?” Graham reached for the file, opening it. And about fell outta his chair.
He blinked, then blinked again. He couldn’t possibly be seeing what he thought.
“I never wanted The Gazette. I bought it because no one else did, either, and history needed preserving. I’m not firing you, Graham. I’m giving you the newspaper outright. Both you and Rebecca.”
Holy, holy shit.
Graham flipped through the legal pages, which he’d have to read in detail later, but yeah. It appeared Gunner had drafted documents to transfer The Gazette to Graham and Rebecca. All files, contents, physical products, and even the building.
It was dated yesterday, too, meaning his first gut reaction on the sidewalk about her having no clue had been correct. One second. He’d second-guessed himself and her for one second, but it may cost him everything. Owning the newspaper or remaining in Vallantine meant squat without her.
Gunner rose and went to collect his briefcase, then backtracked to Graham’s doorway. “The two of you look those over and get back to me. If you’re in agreement, sign the last page.” He lifted one corner of his mouth in a smirk. “If you can get her to talk to you, that is. Might want to start with, I’m sorry. Flowers wouldn’t hurt. Or begging.”
In a stupor, Graham watched the man’s retreat.
Quickly, he dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward. “Gunner.”
At the door, hand on the knob, the mayor turned.
“Thank you.” Graham didn’t know what else to say. Not in his dreams or expectations had he expected this kind of gesture. It wasn’t only a fresh start, but a leg up. Something to call his own and no one to answer to. “Thank you.”