Page 31 of Please, Stay

“I know you’re good, but even I don’t think you can write the article with your eyes closed, Jules.”

She snapped straight in her chair, bumping her knee under her desk. Did her dad make a joke?

He studied her for a moment. “You look exhausted.”

She gave him a bland smile. “Late night up with Becky.”

Her dad shrugged. “Serves you right to suffer today, then.”

There was that lovable father she expected. Like Oscar fromSesame Street.In his usual uniform of flannel, today’s choice of blue and green plaid appeared to have gained a hole near the top collar. Not because he couldn’t afford a new one. He didn’t see the point. His jeans were outdated. His white sneakers were the pinnacle of embarrassment to children everywhere when they went in public.

He picked up a contract with an off-site printer she’d set on his desk. “Another quote? I told you, we don’t need to change how we print the paper.”

“But Daddy, we can put the layout together online and then hit send. A week later, we get our newspapers delivered.” She gave him an encouraging thumbs-up. “And folded.”

“You’ve always hated folding them after they come off the press.”

“It’s just a waste of time. There are other reasons to outsource printing. Jeff’s eyes are getting worse. Your back won’t let you help in the printing room like you used to. I’m horrible at setting up the machine. And, yes, I absolutely hate folding papers. It makes sense to let that part of the business go.”

He shook his head. “I know you have a lot of ideas for the paper once you take over, but you have to be realistic. This is a small town. People here are set in their ways.”

He was right. Hugh Campbell was the prime example of someone set in their ways.

Juliana stifled another yawn. “Where have you been, Dad? I expected you to be here earlier.”

“Iris’s cat did a number on her curtains. They were in a heap on the ground when I got there. Broke the rod out of the drywall and everything.” He chuckled for once. “I’ve never understood why people feel the need to bring animals inside the house. But Iris seems to have a soft heart for them.” A faint smile remained on his lips.

No. Way.

It seemed impossible, but her dad sounded like he was interested in Ms. Iris. They’d always been friends, but, if Iris sparked this small change in him, as in making him smile in the morning, then maybe she could help him to forgive Eliza. If he found love again, he could find it with his own daughter.

“I hadn’t realized that Ms. Iris called you when she needed help.”

He moved around the desk, keeping his eyes averted. “Well, why shouldn’t she call me? I’ve known her longer than anyone else in this town. I’m just as capable of helping as any other—” he lowered his voice “—man.”

The pain in her cheeks from not smiling almost made her give in. “I made you a smoothie before I came in. This one has kale and apples and—”

“No.” He stacked paper on the corner of the desk. “Thank you. I already ate.” He avoided her eye contact for a moment. “Iris made me pancakes.”

Juliana’s heart skipped. “You actually ate a real breakfast?” He’d gone along with her smoothie regiment for the last few years but generally hated eating breakfast.

He snapped his head up. “Is that unusual for a person to eat breakfast at breakfast time?”

“For you, it is.”

He sat down and leaned back in his chair. “Iris had me sittin’ at the table with a fork in my hand and syrup on my pancakes before I knew what’d happened. Last night she cooked pot roast and vegetables. She called it something fancy, but it was still a roast. Thinking about serving it at the diner. That woman sure can cook.”

It appeared that Ms. Iris had some plans of her own. He’d turn tail and run if he ever caught on. He’d sworn never to love another woman after her mom died. But on a certain level, he’d always loved Iris as a friend.

“I told her we’d eat supper over there tonight.”

Juliana straightened.

“Is that okay?”

“I’d planned to cook your dinner and then head over to Becky’s for dinner. I’m a little surprised is all. You haven’t missed meatloaf on Thursday in almost twenty years.” Juliana grinned when he shifted in his chair and looked away again. “Iris is cooking meatloaf, isn’t she?”

“It’s only right to keep with a tradition,” he muttered. “Besides, she said that she had a recipe that was healthy and tasted good. I’ll believe that when I eat it.” He crossed his arms, daring her to say something else. She knew when to stop while ahead.

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