Page 21 of In This Moment

Wait…

He paused, backtracked, and stood on the sidewalk in front of the display window. Birds chirped and a fresh, humid breeze blew across his skin, smelling faintly of the river on the outskirts of town, while he stared stupidly at the window.

When had she done this? Last night, the only things Rebecca had out were the typewriter and the birdcage. An empty birdcage, that now had a yellow canary inside it, swinging merrily. It hung from the center of the display window. A little laminated nameplate on the bottom of the cage said, “Plucky II.” To the left, on the sill, was a child’s wooden chair, and on the seat, an old fedora hat with a “Press” tag on the band. Two small planters with something leafy flanked the chair. She’d placed the typewriter under the birdcage with a pair of folded reading glasses. And to the right? Well, she’d found a use for the seventh poster frame. The top of the image had the Gazette’s logo with the year of establishment and website. Below that, a picture of Gunner with the title of owner, Graham’s photo as editor, her picture as journalist, and just Joan and Jefferson’s titles with no pictures. She’d also included all of their work email addresses and the newspaper’s general inquiry email. The frame sat in one of the many individual book stands that had been in the office closet, the poster easily seen and read from the sidewalk.

Damn, but it looked great. It drew the eye, was well balanced, and fit a newspaper theme. He had a feeling townsfolk and tourists would no longer stroll by, uninterested in the storefront. All because of a few bucks and a crafty woman.

Shaking his head, he let himself inside, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee lofted throughout the room.

But they didn’t have a coffee maker.

Check that. They did now.

Next to where they’d put the wingback chairs last night was a small table where she’d set one of those machines that brewed by the cup. Styrofoam cups were stacked beside it, and a wire rack of pods, as well as a bottle of powdered creamer and a bowl of sugar packets.

The light was on in his office.

He opened his mouth to call for Rebecca, but magazine stands in the center of the room caught his attention before he could. She’d arranged them back to back. All the frames she’d bought yesterday were exhibited with various copies of newspaper clippings inside. A laminated sign on top of the rack showed the price of the framed prints.

So, she’d not only set up the front window, a coffee counter, and the racks, but she’d copied and printed old headlines and framed them. Just when, exactly, had she shown up for work this morning? Hell, he was thirty minutes early.

He glanced around, wondering what else she’d done, and could only laugh. The glass display counter. She’d finished that, too. Walking closer, he found several more of the individual book stands from the closet holding old newspapers in clear protection plastic. She even had a small notebook and pencil next to each with the original year of print. Their own showcase of the Gazette’s history.

Feet shuffled the floor.

He turned around.

Rebecca entered the newsroom from his office carrying two boxes, and did a double-take. “Oh good, you’re here.”

“Yep. Looks like you haven’t left.” He hurried to take the boxes off her hands, setting them by a stack she’d obviously been accumulating in his absence. “When the hell did you get all this done?”

“I came in early. It didn’t take long.” She waved her hand like she hadn’t single-handedly revamped the whole office. In a day. “Dorothy said she’d be here at nine. Figured I’d bring these down for her to start copying.”

“Uh huh.” Lookie there. Someone had whooped him with the dumbass bat. “I like the front display window.”

“Thanks.”

“And the coffee station.”

“Thanks. I bought that for Gammy two Christmases ago, but she never took it out of the box. She preferred a regular coffeemaker. You can’t have a legit newsroom without coffee.”

“Word. The magazine rack with frames is cool.”

“Thanks.”

“And the display counter. Very creative.”

“Thanks. Once I got going, I couldn’t quit.” She huffed a laugh. “Thought up a lot of ideas after we left and I—”

“How much caffeine have you consumed?” Should he be concerned? She looked fine. Blonde strands in a high ponytail, light cosmetics, a green top with black leggings. Better than fine, really. She was gorgeous. Huge blue eyes alight with determination, pouty pink mouth smiling, cheeks flushed in excitement…

“Last night or this morning?”

“What?” He really, really wanted to kiss her. The sensation came out of nowhere and struck him square between the eyes. She smelled like honeysuckle right off the vine. Her perfume or bath product or whatever. It was both lightly refreshing and erringly intoxicating. He hadn’t noticed it before now, but damn if he never wanted to breathe anything else.

“Never mind.” She laughed. “I’m only on my second cup.”

Cup? That’s right. They’d been discussing caffeine. He needed way more of it.

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