Page 38 of In This Moment

Laughing, she glanced at the house. Scarlett was on the porch, leaning against a pillar with her arms crossed, her brows raised, and her lips pursed.

“You didn’t happen to join our bookclub to irritate a certain Belle, now, did you?”

Leaning over, he hefted a tray and winked. “It’s my favorite pastime.”

Chapter Ten

Graham had just finished loading the files for Monday when a knock on the front door startled him. He glanced at Twain’s perked ears, then through his office to the sidewalk outside the Gazette window. He didn’t spot anyone, but part of his view to the front door was skewed. Rebecca had left hours ago, and she wouldn’t knock because she had a key. They were way beyond normal business hours. In fact, dark had descended without him realizing. He hadn’t made plans with Forest, either.

Rising, he strode out of his office, and found Gunner Davis examining the drop boxes Graham and Rebecca had put under the awning on the side of the entryway. He was wearing a white polo stretched across his paunch and khaki pants barely held in place by a belt, indicating he’d popped by after leaving work. As one of a handful of attorneys in town, he didn’t practice law often anymore since becoming mayor twenty years ago. Or so Graham had been told. The guy still had an office on Belle Street, even though the majority of his clientele had been in their prime around Vietnam, but he spent more time at his official mayoral headquarters at the courthouse.

What could he possibly want at this hour?

Unlocking the door, Graham eased it open. “Mr. Davis. How are you?”

“Call me Gunner, son.” He ran his pudgy fingers through his thinning white strands. “I’m good, thanks for asking. Mind if I come in?”

It was his building, but hey. “Sure. I was just finishing for the day.” Graham glanced outside as Gunner squeezed past him. “Or night, as the case may be.”

Shutting the door, he watched his boss stroll around, checking out the display counters, racks, tables, and pictures they’d hung. His frequent nodding seemed to indicate approval, but in the couple months Graham had been employed, Gunner hadn’t once visited.

“Lookin’ great in here. Lots of changes.” He pointed to the comic boxes holding copies of old editions. “You get all these from storage upstairs?”

“Yes. It was Rebecca’s idea.” And a good one.

“Never would’ve thought to try that, or to turn part of the newsroom into a storefront. It beats this stuff collecting dust upstairs. I like the traces of history in the displays, too.” He cinched his slacks. “People tend to forget origins over time. Damn shame, that. What you’ve done circles back to the Gazette’s beginning.”

Graham grunted a sound of agreement, unsure if Gunner was here to look over his shoulder or check to make certain he wasn’t burning the place to ashes. “Rebecca’s handiwork, also. She’s got a creative streak that alludes me. Actually, she has kickass marketing skills.” Which just happened to coincide with resurrecting the paper.

A guttural laugh, and Gunner shoved his hands in his pockets. “Glad you hired her. I was going to suggest it myself before you beat me to it. She has a lot of marketing skills. You’re right about that. You’re an honest man, admitting the ideas were hers.”

“I wouldn’t take credit for something that wasn’t mine.” Gunner probably wouldn’t know that, though. Based on Graham’s employment in Minnesota and the way he’d been terminated, he couldn’t blame Gunner for whatever assumptions were made. Tension knotted Graham’s shoulders as warning knells clanged. He had a six month contract, in which he was two-and-a-half deep. Was he about to get canned? “She’s good at what she does and thinks outside the box. I’m lucky to have her.”

Gunner nodded. Striding to the display window, he watched the canary for a beat. “Her idea, too?”

Not liking the entire exchange, Graham placed a palm to his gut to calm the jitters. “The whole display. She found the items at a thrift shop. All except the bird.”

“Mr. Forester had one like it years ago. I’m sure Miss Rebecca mentioned it.”

“She did.” He wanted to hammer questions or maybe accusations Gunner’s way, but best Graham keep mum, despite the uneasiness of the situation. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Nice weather. How you been? I like the new pictures.

You’re fired.

Gunner picked up a copy of today’s paper from one of the basket racks in front of him, examining the front page. “It pained me to see the Gazette reduced to what it had become. No one seemed to give a darn anymore. We let it fall by the wayside. I’d hoped for this very thing.” He turned, holding up the newspaper. “Hoped when I’d hired you to find headlines again and actual content.” He stared at Graham, deadpan. “Circulation’s on the rise. Numbers are looking better.”

“They are.” Quite a bit. “Both print and e-delivery. Sales here in the storefront won’t amount to much, but it’s a little something extra.”

“Right you are.” Gunner set the paper back in the basket and headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “I hear you and Miss Rebecca are an item.”

Shit. What? “We aren’t.”

Up went the mayor’s bushy white brows. “But you want to be.”

Not a question. He stated it as fact.

Graham opened and swiftly closed his mouth. Since he couldn’t deny the statement, he just shut up. Let it be known, he did have some brain cells.

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