Chapter One #3
Larkin took the opportunity to browse the framed photos hanging on the wall by the entrance, detailing the history of the paper. It seemed the Courier had been in the Akers family since inception in 1917. Right in the middle of the First World War. What a time to be a reporter that must have been.
“Can I help you?”
Larkin stepped forward and offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Larkin Carrillo. I work as a staff writer for the Westward Beacon in Denver and I couldn’t resist stopping in.”
“I’m glad you did. I’m Marly Everett, formerly Akers.
I love meeting fellow journalists, though I’m sure, to you, our paper here must seem very small peanuts.
” She wore a simple, yet elegant diamond and wedding ring set on her left hand, and now that she was standing, it was apparent she was around five months pregnant.
Glancing at her desk, Larkin saw a photo of a handsome cowboy holding a cute blond toddler in his arms.
Deep inside, Larkin felt a pang. Maybe the Copper Mountain Courier was a lot smaller than the Westward Beacon. But this woman had more than a meaningful career. She also had a gorgeous husband and children. It was a package Larkin doubted she’d ever have.
“I’m a big fan of small independent press. It’s tough for journalists of all types these days,” she said.
“Yes. It was a different world back when my great-great-grandfather started this business. But some things are universal. Like people being curious and caring about the events and people in their community.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Fostering a sense of connection and responsibility to your community is what local reporting is all about.”
Marly nodded, then glanced at her watch. “Do you have a few minutes to talk? I make a mean pour-over coffee.”
“I’m already caffeined up for the day. But I’m happy to talk.”
Marly led her to a small office with an antique wooden desk.
She invited Larkin into a very comfortable high-backed leather chair, then went to sit behind the desk.
“This is supposed to be my office, but I do most of my work in the bullpen. I like looking out at the street. Now tell me what brings you to Marietta.”
“My grandmother. She broke her hip six weeks ago.”
Marly took a moment to process. “Ah, your grandmother must be Ethel Carrillo. She used to write a gardening column for us back when my mother was running the paper. I didn’t know she’d injured herself. How did she fall?”
“Stepping off a curb. She’s really quite spry still, but she said she was distracted by a barking dog, and didn’t realize she was so close to the edge of the sidewalk.”
Marly grimaced. “Oh dear.”
“Gran just finished her rehab three days ago, so I’m here to cover the week up to Christmas.
We’re staying at Bramble House B & B while her house gets remodeled to make it safer for her.
” At least that had been the plan. Larkin snuck a look at her phone.
Still no message from the construction company.
“Interesting…” Marly leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “So you’ll be at Bramble House for a while?”
“We leave after Christmas breakfast.” Larkin wondered where this was leading.
“I’m in a bit of a jam,” Marly said. “My senior reporter retired last month, and I haven’t been able to replace him. Honestly, I doubt I’ll ever be able to replace him.”
Larkin hoped Marly wasn’t thinking of her for the position. “I’m only in town for a week.”
Marly raised her eyebrows hopefully. “If that should change…”
“It won’t.”
“You sound definite on that.”
“I am.”
“In that case would you be open to taking on an assignment while you are here? We’ve been profiling local businesses at the Courier, and I was thinking for our Christmas issue it would be apropos to feature Bramble House—in particular their Mable Bramble Christmas Tea fundraiser.”
Larkin didn’t know what to say. Right now it was hard for her to imagine returning to Bramble House at all.
What if she ran into Carson again? But of course she had to go back for her grandmother.
It was already past the time Gran usually ate her lunch.
Was it possible Carson wasn’t staying for the entire week?
Could she dare hope he’d be gone by the time she returned?
Somehow, she doubted she would be that lucky.
“It shouldn’t take too long to write,” Marly cajoled.
“Take some pretty festive photos, interview the owners, write a bit about the history—the house was originally built by one of our early copper barons, Henry Bramble—and then mention the tea and how proceeds are used to help underprivileged kids attend the local rodeo school. It would really help me out.”
It seemed churlish to refuse, especially since it did sound like a simple assignment. “Okay, I’ll do it. When do you need the copy?”
“By the twenty-third. Thanks a million, Larkin. I’m so glad you decided to stop in.”
*
When Robin woke from his nap, Amy took the adorable scamp down to the kitchen for his late lunch.
Since he’d moved from two naps a day to one, he was now sleeping from eleven-thirty until one-thirty, so he missed their official lunch hour.
Amy hoped to eventually shift his nap a little later, but for now Robin was getting a prenap lunch and a postnap lunch.
She popped him into his high chair and put some choices on his tray.
A sliced boiled egg, diced apples, small pieces of cheese.
As he ate, she filled his sippy cup with milk.
It was almost time to put out cocoa, hot apple cider, and freshly baked cookies in the sitting room for the guests. But she knew Robin would be full of energy after his nap and lunch. He’d love to go outside and play in the snow.
Chet had gone into work for the afternoon, so she couldn’t ask him for help.
She’d noticed her brother was in the library, chatting with Ethel.
She could ask him, but he’d already promised to look at their garbage disposal, which had decided to act up now, just six days before they’d be closed for the season.
As Amy pondered her limited options, Shelley emerged from the back patio door, lugging the empty garbage canisters. She heeled off her snowy boots and gave Robin a big smile. “Hey there, cutie. Did you have a good nap?”
Robin threw a piece of cheese at her, then gave her a toothy grin.
Amy picked up the cheese and gave a rueful shrug. “Sorry about that. If it’s any consolation, he tends to throw food only at the people he likes. Thanks for taking out the garbage and the recycling.”
“No problem.” Shelley returned the empty canisters to their proper places, then washed her hands.
She’d been at work for six hours and still looked as good as when she’d arrived.
Not so much as a wisp of her thick brunette hair had escaped the artful “messy” bun she’d started the day with.
Her lightly made-up face remained dewy, and her white cotton shirt pristine.
“How do you manage to look so good after working so hard?”
Shelley laughed. “I’ve had plenty of practice at the care home. That job has its challenges. Believe me I’ve had worse things thrown at me than cubes of cheese.”
“Maybe you could teach me some of your secrets,” Amy said, noticing a stain from Robin’s oat cereal on the hem of her sweatshirt.
“You’ve got a cute new-mom look that suits you just fine, Amy.” Shelley’s smile seemed about to falter, but then it broadened again. “How about I set up the afternoon buffet for the guests before I go home?”
“That would be so helpful. I’d love to take Robin outside to play in all that fresh snow.
” By now she assumed Shelley knew the drill, but just in case, she went over the items that needed to be put out.
“Two thermoses, one with cocoa and another with spiced apple cider. Also, put out Jo’s fresh-baked cookies.
” She gestured to a baking tray, cooling on the counter and covered with a thin cotton towel.
Shelley removed the towel, then frowned. “Do these look a little burned to you?”
Amy handed Robin his cup, then went to take a look. It was true, the edges of the cookies were darker than usual. Not quite burned, but not up to Jo’s usual standard. “Oh dear. I don’t think we have anything else to put out.”
“It’ll be okay,” Shelley said briskly as she began stacking the cookies onto a decorative platter. “I’m sure they still taste delicious.”
Amy was going to try one, to make sure, but Robin decided he was finished his lunch and communicated the message by tossing his cup to the floor.
“All done, Robin? You don’t need to throw things, my love.” Calmly she picked up the cup—which had a special lid to prevent leaks—and then unstrapped her son from the chair. He grinned at her, showcasing his neat row of new baby teeth. Honestly, he was just too cute.
“I’ll clean his chair and then take the beverages and cookies out to the sitting room,” Shelley said. “You go ahead and have some fun.”
“Dough,” Robin said once she had him in her arms. “Dough, dough, dough!”
Amy knew this was his way of communicating that he wanted to get down. She set him on the floor gently. “We’re going outside to play, Robin. But first we have to put on our coats and boots.”
Proving he understood, Robin began toddling toward the closet.
“You sure you’re okay?” Amy asked Shelley before following him.
“I’ve got this.”
“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
Shelley laughed. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
“My husband says I’m a control freak. You don’t think so, do you?” Leaving Shelley shaking her head, Amy rushed after her little boy.
*
It was after two when Larkin finally made it back to Bramble House.
She felt terribly guilty as she slipped off her boots at the main entry.
She could smell spiced cider, and a tray of cookies beckoned in the sitting room, but first she needed to find her grandmother.
She didn’t have to look too far. Gran was in the library, reading the latest Stephen King.