Читать книгу Eva's Deadline - Linda Lee Hope - Страница 11

CHAPTER FOUR

“THIS IS WHERE I hang out.” Mark pointed to the open doorway of a small office near the back of the building. He nodded at an adjacent closed door. “You can have this office.” He stepped forward and put a hand on the knob.

“Wait,” Eva said. “Isn’t that my father’s?”

“Yeah, it is...was.”

Eva raised both hands. “No. No way am I going to use his office. Why don’t you take his and I’ll take yours?”

Mark frowned. “Why should I move, when you could just as well use his?”

Eva shook her head. “You’re not hearing me. I said no.”

They glared at each other.

Eva’s heart thudded, but she wasn’t going to back down. She didn’t belong in that office. She would never belong there. A lump rose in her throat.

She swallowed and tried again. “Why don’t you want to take my father’s office now? You’ll eventually be there anyway. Once I’m gone, you’ll be on your own here.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Mark said.

“That still doesn’t explain why you don’t want to move into his office now.”

“You haven’t given me a reason why you won’t take it,” Mark pointed out.

No, and she wouldn’t, either. Eva expelled an exasperated breath. “We’re going around in circles.”

“It’s his or a corner of mine.”

“What about the broom closet?”

“We don’t have one.”

“We do, too. I remember one down that way.” She pointed to where the hallway angled off to the right.

Mark jutted out his chin. “Don’t be ridiculous. The paper’s editor working out of the broom closet?”

“Works for me.”

Mark shook his head. “You are something else.”

Neither said anything. Mark stared at the floor. Eva crossed her arms and tapped her foot. In one of the cubicles, a phone jangled. Mark finally looked up. “Okay, there is one other possible place for you. We have an extra cubicle that freelancers use. You can park there.”

“Where will the freelancers work?”

“I’ll fix up a corner of Seb’s office. Somebody will get some use out of it.”

“All right.”

Mark led her down the hall to the cubicle. Eva peered at it. About half the size of the one she had at Seattle’s Best, it contained a desk with a computer and a phone and a two-drawer file cabinet. “Pretty basic, isn’t it?”

Mark shrugged. “You had your choice.”

“Okay, now that I have a place to park, as you put it, what am I supposed to do?”

“We need to discuss that. Come on into my office.”

Mark’s office was considerably larger than the cubicles but as simply furnished, with the exception of a high-backed black vinyl desk chair. Her father had had a chair just like that, she remembered. A worktable near the window held a stack of file folders and several books.

He directed Eva to a straight chair on the other side of his desk and then sank into his chair, swiveling around to face her. He picked up a copy of the Herald lying on the desktop. “Seen our latest issue?”

“I glanced at it when I first came in, but I haven’t read it.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve seen any back issues, either.” He picked up a thick file folder.

“Not a one.”

“Didn’t think so.” He slid the newspaper and the folder in her direction. “Take a look. I think you’ll find the paper has changed a lot since you worked here.”

Eva laced her fingers together in her lap and, with studied patience, said, “I never worked here. I helped out summers when I was in high school. Opening the mail, mostly.”

Mark shrugged dismissively. “Whatever.”

Eva picked up the paper. She turned the pages, scanning the headlines: “Local School Board Loses Longtime Member,” “Facts About Home Buying,” “Traffic Increase Prompts Study.”

Bor-ing. Aloud, she said, “Looks like quite a variety of articles.”

“News articles. The Herald reports important happenings around town.”

She met his stern gaze. “What are you trying to say, Mark? That what I write at Seattle’s Best isn’t news? What did you call my writing when we were in Lawrence’s office? ‘Fluff’ pieces?”

“A publication like Seattle’s Best has its place.”

“But obviously a less prestigious place than a newspaper like the Herald.”

Mark shook his head. “I’m not trying to pick a fight. I just wanted to make our mission clear.”

“Trust me, you have,” she said crisply.

Mark cleared his throat. “Getting back to your role here, I figured the closest to what you’ve been writing would be the Our Town column. Notices of club meetings, food drives, activities at the senior center, that sort of thing.”

“Who’s been doing that up to now?”

“One of our freelancers. A sweet lady named June Baker. She was very disappointed when I told her we wouldn’t be needing her anymore.”

“I don’t want to take anyone’s job. Isn’t there something else I can do?”

“Besides the Our Town column? You can help me with the overall layout and editing. And I’m sure we’ll find some other tasks to keep you busy.”

Eva raised an eyebrow. “So that’s the main objective—keeping me busy?”

Mark ran a hand through his hair. “Come on, Eva. This is tough for both of us. You’ve given me the impression you don’t want to become involved while you’re here, that you’re only marking time until your year is over.” He studied her closely. “Am I off base on that?”

Eva looked away. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m trying to make the year as easy for you as I can. You want some other assignment, okay, you pick it.”

“Never mind,” she said. “I’ll do the column.”

They spent the next few minutes going over various routines and procedures. At last, Mark leaned back and said, “That about covers it. Any questions?”

“No. I’ll go to my cubicle now.”

“June’s files are all there. They should help you get in the groove.”

Before she could make her escape, voices sounded in the hallway, and a little girl burst into the room. Except for her white sandals, she was dressed all in pink: blouse, skirt and tights. Looped over one arm was a pink plastic purse with a large daisy stuck to the side.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Arms outstretched, she ran to Mark.

He swiveled away from his desk just in time for her to jump into his lap. “Hey, sweetheart! I didn’t expect a visit from you today.”

An older woman, presumably Sasha’s caretaker, hurried into the office. “We’re on our way to our ballet lesson,” she said. “And she insisted on visiting first. She’s her daddy’s girl, that one.”

“I’m always glad to see my girl.” Mark bestowed a kiss on the child’s forehead.

Eva had little experience with children, but judging by her impression of Sasha at Seb’s memorial, the child was a charmer. She obviously had her father twisted around her little finger.

Eileen turned to Eva. “Your first day on the job, I bet. I’m Eileen.”

Eva smiled. “Nice to meet you. I’m Eva.”

“Heard you rented Lola Halsey’s place. Seems strange, when you could be staying in Seb’s house.”

Eileen reached up to her topknot and adjusted the chopsticks, or whatever they were, that were stuck through it.

“I’ll be getting the house ready to put on the market,” Eva said.

“If you need an agent, see Morgan’s Realty on Main Street. Jeb’s my cousin. Tell him I sent you.”

Eva smiled indulgently. “Thanks, Eileen, I’ll make a note of that.”

Mark turned Sasha around to face Eva. “You remember Eva from Mr. Seb’s memorial, don’t you, honey?”

Sasha beamed her luminous blue eyes on Eva. “Yes, I ’member.”

“I remember you, too,” Eva said. “How are you today?”

“Fine. I have a new purse.” She pointed to the purse hanging over her arm.

“Very nice. It matches your outfit. I bet pink’s your favorite color.”

“Uh-huh.” Sasha grinned shyly.

“She always has to be color-coordinated.” Eileen favored her charge with a smile. “Not like me,” she added, pointing to her orange blouse and red cardigan sweater.

“I like my outfits to match, too.” Eva gestured at her brown shirt and slacks.

“You look pretty,” Sasha said.

“Why, thank you.”

“Hey, Sasha, I thought I heard your voice.”

April Hensen, clutching a piece of paper in her hand, entered the room. Her flip-flops slapped across the floor as she headed for Mark’s desk. Leaning down, she gave Sasha a hug.

As April straightened, her free hand brushed Mark’s shoulder in a gesture that seemed intentional, rather than accidental. April always seemed to hover around Mark. Were they more than boss and employee?

Mark and April’s relationship was no business, or concern, of hers.

“Here’s the flyer for the picnic.” April laid the paper on Mark’s desk. She looked around wide-eyed. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No problem, April.” Mark lowered Sasha to the floor and turned his attention to the paper April had brought.

Sasha danced over to Eva. “Are you coming to the picnic?”

“What picnic is that?”

“The Fourth of July picnic. Huh, Daddy?” Sasha looked to Mark for confirmation.

Mark sat back in his chair. “Right, sweetie.” He looked at Eva. “It’s at the City Park and sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce. The entire town is invited. We’re including these flyers in the next edition of the paper.” He tapped the sheet in front of him. “We’re covering the event, of course.”

“You have to come,” Sasha said. “There are games and prizes and fireworks!”

Eva didn’t want to spend the Fourth of July—or any holiday—in Willow Beach. This occasion would be a good time to take Susan up on her invitation to stay in Seattle. “Yes, the picnic’s always been a popular celebration. It sounds like fun, but I plan to go home that weekend.”

Sasha’s brow wrinkled. “Home?”

“To Seattle. That’s where I really live.”

“Eva’s only here in Willow Beach for a year,” Mark said. “Then she’s going back to her home in Seattle.” He turned back to Eva. “But about the picnic—you’re writing the Our Town column, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“And doesn’t the picnic sound like an event for your column?”

“Ordinarily. But it’s the Fourth of July. Won’t that rate a front-page feature? And wouldn’t that be you?”

She glanced at the others. Eileen and April had their gazes glued to Mark, anticipating his answer. Even Sasha, who’d been fussing with her purse, was now focused on her father.

Mark folded his arms and glared at Eva. She set her jaw and glared back.

Seconds passed. Finally, he shrugged. “Go to Seattle. We’ll get along just fine without you.” He turned away and shuffled some papers on his desk.

“I’d already made plans before I knew about the picnic,” she felt obliged to say. True enough, even though she hadn’t yet checked with Susan to see if that weekend would work for her, too. But Susan had said to come anytime, hadn’t she?

“I wish you could come to the picnic,” Sasha said.

“Never mind, honey.” April patted Sasha’s shoulder. “We’ll have a good time.”

Eileen grasped Sasha’s hand. “We need to go, honey. We don’t want to be late for your ballet lesson.”

“Bye, Sasha.” Eva waved. “Nice to see you again.”

“Bye.”

After Sasha and Eileen left, Mark turned to April. “Was there something else, April?”

“I need to talk to you.” She rolled her eyes and tipped her head in Eva’s direction.

Seizing the blatant hint as a chance to escape, Eva stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get to work.”

* * *

“HAVE A SEAT, April.” Mark nodded at the chair Eva had vacated.

April sidled to the chair and perched on the edge. The slight flush to her normally pale complexion sent tension rippling across his shoulders.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“I, um, thought you and Sasha might want to come to my place for dinner tonight. I’m making spaghetti, and my housemate has a night class at the junior college.”

Yep, as he’d suspected, her reason for lingering was personal. “That’s nice of you, April, but I’ll be working late. I’ll only have time to grab a bite at the deli.”

April’s forehead wrinkled. “Sasha could come, though, couldn’t she? She and I always have fun together.”

“Sorry, I’ve already arranged for her to have dinner at Eileen’s.”

April lowered her gaze and shifted in her chair. “I hope things between us won’t change now that Eva is here,” she said in a low voice.

At the mention of an “us,” Mark inwardly cringed. A few months ago, he and April had seen each other at a concert on the beach, and he’d invited her for a bite to eat afterward. Since then, she’d had the idea he was personally interested in her. As gently as he could, he’d tried to make it clear that wasn’t the case. She was a valued employee and a good friend only, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“I’m still your boss,” he said carefully, “but Eva is a boss, too.”

“I’ll take orders from her if I have to,” she said in a petulant tone. “But that’s not what I meant. What about us?”

Mark spread his hands. “I’ve explained that I’m not ready for a new relationship. Don’t take it personally.”

April pushed out her lower lip. “It’s been three years since your wife died. I’d think that would be long enough to wait before moving on.”

Mark kept his voice firm. “I’ll decide when I’m ready, okay? Now, what about your Police Beat column? I’ll need your copy by the end of today.”

April huffed, “I know when my deadline is.”

After she left, Mark leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Dealing first with Eva and then with April had drained him of the energy and enthusiasm he usually brought to the job.

Seb created this mess, he realized, and for a moment, he shared some of Eva’s resentment toward the man. Had he really thought Mark and Eva would get along and be able to keep the Herald running smoothly?

* * *

EVA SHIFTED FROM side to side in the green vinyl chair, trying to get comfortable. No luck; the seat part was too short for her long legs, and the wooden arms extended at an awkward angle so that her elbows kept falling off. The small TV set that had come with the furnishings was broadcasting the evening’s news, but she wasn’t watching. She was mulling over her first day on the job at the Herald.

She’d read June Baker’s files, which, as she’d suspected, were full of the kinds of articles that appealed to the citizens of a small town: local woman bank teller promoted to manager; high-school graduate awarded scholarship to prestigious school; local truckers lamenting the high cost of gasoline.

At lunchtime, instead of eating alone at one of the town’s diners, she’d walked back to her apartment and made a tuna sandwich.

In the afternoon, Mark had emailed her an article from one of their freelancers to edit. The topic was a recent quilt show at the community center. Eva had to admit the accompanying photos were bright and colorful, but the article itself was, in her opinion, pedestrian. Still, she’d performed the best editing job she could do without drastically altering the text. When she’d ventured to suggest to Mark that the article was uninteresting, his response was that Lettie Snow, who’d written the piece, was, in his opinion, one of their most talented writers and suggested that if she thought she could do better, she was welcome to try.

This terse exchange had taken place in the hallway in hushed voices. Still, Eva had noticed Dora’s and Bernie’s heads popping up from their cubicles to see what was going on. She’d told Mark no, thank you, and marched back to her own cubicle.

After work, not feeling like cooking and not being much of a cook anyway, she’d stopped at the supermarket and bought the makings of a salad.

Now the evening stretched before her like a yawning hole. She’d never be able to last an entire year. Never.

At least she could escape for the Fourth of July weekend. She was sure Mark and the others no more wanted her at the picnic than she wanted to be there. Which reminded her that she’d better let Susan know she was coming.

She picked up her cell phone and punched her friend’s number on the speed dial.

“How’d your first day go?” Susan asked when she came on the line and they’d exchanged greetings.

“Stressful, but I managed to make it through to the end. What’s new at the magazine?”

“Rolling along at high speed, as usual. Today a bunch of us went to lunch at the Four Seasons.”

“Oh, one of my favorite places.”

“I know, and you were missed.”

“Has anyone been hired to replace me yet?”

“Nope. Still interviewing.”

“I’d like to think it’s because my shoes are hard to fill,” Eva joked.

Susan laughed. “No doubt.”

They chatted for a few minutes, then Eva said, “Okay if I come up for the Fourth? Trying out my own guest room will be fun.”

The silence that followed raised an alarm. Then Susan said, “Oh, Eva, I’m sorry, but my cousins Julie and Lanette are coming for the holiday. You could sleep on the sofa, though.”

Eva pictured the curved sofa in her living room, comfortable to sit on but hardly suitable as a bed. “No, I don’t think that would work.”

“How about the weekend after that?”

“I really wanted to come for the Fourth.”

“I don’t know what to say, except I’m sorry.”

They talked a few minutes longer and then said goodbye. Eva punched off the call, heavy with disappointment.

Now, unless she wanted to hide out in her apartment or go someplace other than Seattle, she had no excuse for not attending the Willow Beach Fourth of July celebration.