Page 24 of A Package Deal

“Like we are now, with advertisers. Maybe add some sponsors. People who support the idea of free, unbiased information could make a donation to keep theHaven Timesrunning.” Nelie looked doubtful.

“But wouldn’t that make you biased toward them?”

“No.”

“Really?” Her damned eyebrow cocked.

“Really.” Chet leaned toward her. She was cute when she played devil’s advocate. He hoped when he got around to a viable plan for the paper’s survival, she’d quiz him just as thoroughly.

“Let’s say APAWEA sponsors the paper, but you find out teenagers are working the second and third shifts on the production floor. What do you do?” Nelie propped her chin in her hand.

“Alex and London wouldn’t do that.”

“Hypothetically, then.”

“I’d report it,” Chet said firmly.

“Even if they were sponsors?” Her sweet voice oozed with doubt.

“Someone supporting the paper wouldn’t make me turn my back on the news. Teenagers are limited in when they can work. If an employer violates that, I’d report on it.” Nelie looked thoughtful and nodded her head, as if she’d known he would say that, but she’d had to test him.

“Would a story like that stay local?”

“Another paper could pick it up, but let’s face it, a big news day in Haven is when the stoplight at Main Street and Central Avenue goes out and downtown traffic stalls.” Chet stabbed at his coleslaw and pushed it away, hoping Nelie wouldn’t notice. She’d been sneaking more vegetables into their lives. “Maybe I’m beating my head against the wall, and I’d have a better bottom line by printing the gossip.” Nelie touched his hand and gave him a gentle smile.

“I imagine it’s been hard going from being an assistant editor at a big paper to this,” she said, waving her hand around the room. Chet blew out a breath. In Saint Louis, the newspaper had been a beehive of activity and noise. Right now, one employee was on the phone and the other was typing on their computer. His full-time salesperson was out selling ad space, and his reporter was at city hall looking up some records. That same reporter was also Chet’s chief photographer. And if it was a crazy news week or someone was on vacation, Chet jumped in to fill the void. The only staffing change he’d consider would be to hire a teenaged intern to report on the news and events at Haven High School.

“It was the change I needed,” he said. Heather had complained that shuffling the kids between them was too disruptive for the kids and her. She was building a life with the snake—his word, not hers—she’d cheated on him with, and it confused the girls. It confused Chet, too, but he didn’t have a say in the matter, so he spent more time than he wanted to with his new friends Jim Beam and Jose Cuervo. His drinking was never out of control, but he hadn’t liked needing a few glasses each night to take the edge off. So, when he saw the business for sale ad, he’d jumped at it.

Chet had liked the price, the financing arrangement, and the seller seemed honest. A few weeks after inquiring, he’d visited Haven. He liked the town and the area, and the way Haven hugged the slopes leading down to the river. The way it was close, but not too close to Saint Paul and Minneapolis. The way people greeted each other by name on Main Street and in the grocery store. People smiled and acknowledged each other, even strangers. It also helped that fall was in full swing, and the hill and river valley were in full color.

Heather had been on board with his idea. She’d said it would be better for everyone, and Chet could have the girls for holidays and school breaks. And he could visit any weekend he wanted to. The girls had visited him in Haven during their first holiday break, but after that, Chet fell into the habit of flying to Saint Louis every second or third week to see them. It was easier on them, but it had left a gaping hole in his heart, which is why he’d been a serial dater when he’d moved to town. It was mostly unfulfilling, like reading the headline but not the article, until he’d met Nelie. She filled the empty spaces in his heart.

He smiled at her, relishing how much happier he was and how grateful he was for this second chance with her.

“But I wish this town thrived on community-impacting news and not gossip,” he said.

“Where’s the fun in that? Gossip is our currency.”

“But I’d sell more subscriptions and have a better bottom line if I published the gossip.”And you’d sell your soul before you did that, his conscience told him.

Nelie’s watch beeped, and she frowned. “Time to go.” She tossed her trash and pushed her cookie toward him.Peanut butter, nice.But he wished she could stay for the nickel tour.

“Where are you off to?” Chet pulled her jacket from the coat rack and held it open for her.

“Mrs. Hart’s”—she slipped her arms into the sleeves—“I’m due there at one o’clock, but I don’t know why.”

“It’s been over a week. Maybe they need to organize a donor search and they’re taking you up on your offer to use the Galley for a community search. Jackson said there wasn’t an immediate match, but they’re waiting to hear the results from a few cousins.” Nelie shrugged as if anything were possible. “Let me know how I can help.” Chet paused with his hand on the door and kissed her. “Good luck,” he said eventually, loving how adorably flustered she looked when they broke apart.

“I’ll need it. You never know what Mrs. Hart has up her sleeve.”

Chapter 15

“I’msorryI’mlate,”Nelie called out, hanging her coat on the pegs by the side door entry. Rosemarie Hart had told her long ago that family and friends were to use the side door, knock, and walk right in.

Nelie had been coming the Hart’s stately home since she was a little girl. First, with her mother—Stella and Rosemarie were best friends—and now with Gus when he needed help with Mrs. Hart’s vast gardens. Nelie loved the old house. It sat on an oversized lot with a glimpse of downtown and the river. Her favorite part was the large kitchen and its big oak table near the window that overlooked the avenue and Mrs. Hart’s flower gardens.

Nelie stopped at the threshold. She’d thought it would be just her and Mrs. Hart, but it was a full table. Jackson and his sister, Priscilla, sat next to each other. Nelie had met her a few times, and she’d joined the Swans at brunch in early January. Pris was smart and beautiful. Their mother, Suzanne, Mrs. Hart’s daughter, sat across from them. Nelie had heard through the grapevine that she’d come from Chicago as soon as Nate was born, leaving her husband, Dr. Franklin Wyatt, in Chicago. He was a surgeon, and Nelie didn’t think he’d be able to fly off as easily as Suzanne had. It made sense that Jackson’s in-town family was here, but why was her own dad?

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