Page 1 of Penalties and Proposals

CHAPTER 1

WILLA

One thingnot on my bingo card for this fall? Me in the back of a car, on the way to a media event, changing my clothes as I sit less than two feet away from a complete stranger, because my plane was late.

“Ma’am, our ETA is about ten minutes to The Regent’s Hotel in Maple Falls,” the kind older gentleman who’s driving me—I think his name is Howard—calls out from behind the glass partition he’s raised between us. I’m pretty sure he’s got an actual speakerphone he could use to talk to me, but who am I to question anything when I’m tugging my nicest sweater over my head at the same time I’m trying to make sure my black pants aren’ttoowrinkled?

“Awesome. If you could please update me when we’re about to turn in so I can literally roll out of the back of this car and hit the ground running, I’d appreciate it,” I manage with a chuckle.

Looking out the window, a sign announcing we’ve arrived in Maple Falls greets me, the town motto screaming out.

“Maple Falls,” I mutter to myself. “You’ll never want to leave? I guess only time will tell.”

Shaking my head, I cannot help but marvel at the breathtaking scenery that surrounds me. Towering mountainsdominate the horizon, their peaks dusted with the first snow of the season, creating a striking contrast against the deep blue sky. The winding road leads us through a tunnel of vibrant autumn foliage, the leaves shimmering in shades of amber, crimson, and gold.

As we ascend a gentle slope, the road curves, revealing panoramic views of the valley below. The town of Maple Falls nestles cozily in the embrace of the mountains, its quaint buildings and tree-lined streets blending seamlessly with the natural landscape. I crack my window—the crisp, cool air carrying an earthy scent of pine and fallen leaves, a reminder of the untouched wilderness around me.

Hitting the button to close the window, I fall back into the seat. I can see why Maple Falls is known far and wide for its scenic beauty now, that’s for sure. It’s beyond picturesque, it’s perfect.

But besides being here for work, I’m also after some peace and quiet from the city, and hopefully—fingers crossed—to get a photo of the super rare Blue Rock Thrush in my downtime.

I like to think that this is the cool part about being a freelance photographer: picking and choosing the gigs I take. I’ve been doing this on my own ever since a really bad encounter about three years ago … funny enough, that incident was with an ice hockey player. He was well-known at the time, and I was looking forward to working with him. The day he walked in the door, I couldn’t take my eyes off him—he wasthatgood-looking. But from the moment he opened his mouth, it was over. The very thought still makes me shudder.

They say never meet your heroes, but for me, it’s never get too excited about who you’re working with. The more famous, the bigger the pain in my butt.

The trill sound of my cell phone ringing pulls me from my thoughts. I shove my hand into my bag, feeling around and finding my iPhone buried on the bottom. Warmth fills my heart when I see the word MOM flashing on the screen.

“I’m here, I’m here,” I say in a hurried whoosh, pressing my lips to the phone. “Sorry. Meant to call when I landed, but we were late, and now …”

“You’re rushing to get where you need to go, aren’t you?” Moms. How do they always know?

“You guessed it. I’ve still not been fully briefed yet. They thought I’d be in earlier, so I was supposed to meet with someone in the PR firm that hired me, but they all had to get to the media event and get prepped.”

“Oh sweetie, you’ll go in blind and handle it. I know you can.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Any idea if that jerk you worked with a few years back is going to be there?”

“None, but I doubt it,” I say with a snicker.That jerk. I love her. “Last I heard, he’d been knocked down from NHL status to AHL, and I’m under the impression AHL players won’t be here no matter how good they were ‘back in the day.’”

“Good. If I find out he’s there—”

“You’ll do nothing.”

“You are so very right.” She’s quiet for a moment before continuing. “Any more news on the offer fromAthletic Edge?”

Athletic Edgeis one of the top sporting magazines and one of the reasons I’m here in Maple Falls. When uber-billionaire Zach Hart announced he wanted to host a charity event here, the major outlets scrambled to get coverage. It’s not every day that someone has the clout to assemble the team of teams for a six-week stint in rural Washington State to raise money for a children’s charity—one for underprivileged kids, too. The thought practically melts the heart on its own.

However, like all good deeds, there’s an agenda:Athletic Edgehas also asked if I’d consider relocating from Los Angeles and base myself on the East Coast, working out of their offices in New York City. I’d still be able to freelance, sometimes, but the headline here is that I’d be getting a promotion. I would be the head of their photography department and in charge of photoshoots not only in the studio for all covers and features, but I’dsit on the development and creative side of the magazine, too, with all photographers reporting to me.

Is it ideal? For someone who wants to be a free spiritandhave the stability of a nine-to-five, YES.

Is that why I’m taking it? No. I want this job because of my mother, and because I should have had a job like this a few years ago. But sadly, that chance sailed due to said ice hockey player who I shall not name for fear of him coming to life in front of us out of the mist. You know, like Beetlejuice or Voldemort.

“There’s been a lot of thought on the offer, Mom, and seeing as they’ve asked me to do it, I’m going to put forward my best work and go for it.”

“At least you’ll be closer to home,” she says with a sigh in my ear. “It’d be nice to have you in Harper’s Ferry again for more than the occasional visit.”

“New York is a one-hour plane ride, so we’d both be able to visit each other,” I remind her as the car suddenly brakes hard, coming to a stop. “That is, only if they don’t let me live where I want. If I have the choice, I’ll definitely come home for at least a year. Commuting these days is easy with video calls and, you know, the internet.”

My mom is still chuckling in my ear when the SUVI’m in comes to a screeching halt. I may be balancing my phone as I talk to my mother, but I’m also in the midst of trying to pull my pants up, so it’s not ideal. The force of our sudden stop slams me against the rear of the seat in front of me and bounces me back to where I began.

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