Page 17 of In This Moment

Uh huh. It was, but there was no need to embarrass herself farther by telling him that hadn’t been the situation just now.

“I was saying, I think the glass display case would look good in front of the high podium desk over there.” He pointed to the wall to the left of the bay window.

It was a good corner for it, yes.

“Agree.” The plan was to put older newspapers in the display case in plastic to preserve them and show off the Gazette’s history to visitors. A mini-museum. He’d loved the idea. A cash register would go on the podium to check out customers. “Instead of buying a register, though, we can just get a program for one of the existing computers. It’ll save money.”

“Good thinking. I’ll look into it tomorrow.” He eyed the cluster of desks in the middle of the room. “How do you want to arrange the prints? I’m not understanding your vision.”

Now that they’d set up the reporter cubicles, her tentative fengshui needed refocusing. The space was slightly smaller than she’d envisioned. Upstairs earlier, she’d had the idea to copy older newspaper articles and sell them as page prints to visitors. They could go as-is in scrapbooks or be matted and framed. Souvenirs for tourists or memorabilia for townsfolk. It wouldn’t rake in a lot of dough for the Gazette, but it would be additional income and bring people inside. Get them interested.

She frowned. “Not sure.”

“Let’s move the podium and display case. Go from there.”

They did what he suggested, engaging in small talk.

Furniture in place, he straightened. “So, you were raised by your grandmother?”

It was the first instance he’d asked something personal, and after a brief pause, she realized she didn’t mind. He wasn’t from Vallantine, but it was a small town. There was no need to keep up her defensive walls. She was home. Easier said than done, though. She’d been in a big city too long if that sort of question tripped her meter.

“Forget I asked.” He waved his hand. “It’s none of my business.”

“No, no. It’s okay.” She stretched her arms over her head to loosen her back. The display case was heavy. “Yes, my grandmother raised me after my folks passed away. She’s my dad’s mom.” She blinked, her throat suddenly tight. “Was, I mean. She was Dad’s mother.” It felt so wrong using Gammy in past tense.

Genuine sympathy turned the edges of his eyes down and tightened his lips. “Damn, that sucks. I’m sorry. How old were you when they died?”

Since his question and tone were non-abrasive nor intrusive, she didn’t hesitate in answering. “I was eight. It was a car wreck.”

A slight shake of his head. “That must’ve been horrible.”

“It was, but I had Gammy.” Not anymore. She was gone. Tears burned her eyes, and she glanced away, focusing on something else. Anything else.

“Do you have any other family?” His rough timbre skated across her skin from several feet away, but his irrevocably kind tone wrapped her in a hug.

She almost lost it, but then she processed his question and swallowed the hurt. “No, but I have my besties.”

His green eyes lit with a smile, crinkling the corners. A dimple appeared through the scruff on his cheek. “The Bookish Belles.”

She laughed. How, she hadn’t a clue. “Yeah. Known them since birth.”

He nodded, running a hand through his midnight strands. “Friends make the best family because you get to pick them yourselves.”

What a lovely sentiment. “Exactly.”

“Forest and I met the first day of college. We got paired as roommates. Been close ever since.” Fondness laced his tone and radiated in his eyes.

“He’s a good guy. Is that how you wound up in Vallantine?”

All good humor drained from his features. “For the most part.” He puffed his cheeks and blew out his breath, glancing elsewhere. “What next, Obi-Wan?”

Not sure what caused the shift, she looked at the remaining furniture. She’d maybe ask him later. “I think we should put the wingback chairs from upstairs in the corner.” She pointed to the opposite end from the display case, to the right of the front door. The chairs were a pretty navy pattern and in good shape. They’d just need a fabric refresher spray and dusting. “It’ll balance the room and give people a place to sit. We can put the end table from upstairs between them.”

He offered a thumbs-up. “I’ll go get ‘em.”

While he was gone, she thought about space and how to display the prints. Considering the history and how far back the paper went, they’d need a lot of shelves, which seemed a waste of money. Plus, shelves would offer no support. They had four remaining desks, though. There had to be something they could do, aside from framing the print copies.

Graham came back with a chair, a box of newspapers on the seat.

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