Page 13 of In This Moment

Resting his forearms on the desk, he leaned forward. “What are you hoping to work on here if we employ you? Are you seeking full, part time, or consignment?”

Her gaze darted to his desk, expression flat. “I prefer full time, but will accept whatever you have available, including any positions that are open.”

Damn, but he despised this version of her. Someone, probably former employees or bosses, had beaten the spunk out of her and left her professionally dejected. Brimming under the surface was talent and, he hoped, some of that resolve she’d left Vallantine to pursue. No one exited small town America for a huge city seeking mediocrity. He searched for a way to bring out that backbone he’d witnessed in their previous encounters.

“And what if the only position available is a receptionist?”

Again, she closed her eyes in a leisure blink, the thick fan of her lashes creating shadows on her cheeks, as she appeared to gain control of her emotions. The quiver of her lower lip indicated she was wrangling the urge to cry. “Whatever openings you have are fine.”

He didn’t know whether to weep himself or take her by the shoulders and shake her. He’d be damned if he was going to be another person on a long list to stomp on her, though, so he leaned back in his seat and tried brutal honesty.

“The Gazette is failing.”

Her gaze whipped to his, wide, but she said nothing.

He nodded, rising to close the door, then reclaimed his chair. “Gunner Davis hired me to fix it, or he was going to stop print for good. Apparently, it hasn’t been in the black for a decade. Only reason he hasn’t quit before is because the paper’s been a long-standing staple for seventy-five years. I have six months, four now, to bring it back to life.” Exhaling, he scrubbed his hands over his face and looked at her. “I inherited those two out there,” he pointed to Joan and Jefferson, “but they have little more interest than what they’re doing, and offered no suggestions. You’re the first person to walk through that door at all, never mind with experience. I’m a journalist turned editor, not a marketing guru.”

Chewing her lower lip, she stared at him, contemplation in her eyes. “I can’t imagine Vallantine without the Gazette.”

Gunner Davis had mentioned something along the same lines.

“You have more to say.” It was obvious by the way she’d scooted to the edge of her seat. “What’s on your mind?”

Her pretty, perfect, pouty mouth opened and closed several times before she shook her head and dug in her bag. She set a copy of today’s paper on his desk. “It’s only two pages.”

“Yep.”

“It’s mostly filler content.”

“Yep.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Can I speak frankly?”

Finally, they were getting somewhere. “Yep.”

“Running a small town paper is different than a metropolis. Especially in the south. It has to be a mix of personal and informative, catering to the clientele. All the info here,” she tapped the paper, “is something anyone with a phone can Google, so why pay for the news? Times are tough right now, also, between the economy and hits from the pandemic. The Gazette needs better stories, better access, and better reach. Not to mention revenue.”

Heck yeah. There she was, the woman he’d met outside their homes and in the bar. The feisty, speak her mind, hot as hell blonde who didn’t back down.

She snapped upright. “Why are you smiling at me?”

Despite better judgement, he chuckled and scratched his jaw. “I like this version of Rebecca better. Plus, you’re right. Any ideas on how to go about what you suggested?”

She gave him a speculative glare. “First and foremost, the tourism market should be considered when doing content. Strategic marketing and placement of the paper, to boot. The Gazette doesn’t have social media accounts, nor does it have an e-print version.”

Steepling his fingers, he grinned. “What else?”

Deadpan stare. “Am I hired?”

She had the job before she’d walked into his office. “I can’t offer the salary you were making in Boston.”

“Okay.”

“Nor can I assure job security with the state of the paper now.”

“Okay.”

“You might be doing work you don’t like some of the time instead of the hard-hitting journalism you prefer.”

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