Page 13 of All We Could Still Have

“He is.” I smiled, hiding my frustration. I wanted to get back to my office and call Kyle to tell him I got the promotion and we could pay for another round.

Carol pointed to her guest chair. “Have a seat.”

“I’d rather stand.”

The latest edition of the magazine was spread open on her desk. “I’ll definitely try this place,” she said, tapping an article I had written about a new restaurant in town named Declan’s.

“The steak tips are out of this world,” I said.

She studied me with her head tilted to the side. “I didn’t know DeMarco’s was your family restaurant. It used to be my favorite place in town.”

Her comment stirred a strange mix of pride and sadness in me. “How did you find out?”

Her lips curled downward. “Andrew told me.”

“I didn’t know he knew.”

Her face flushed, and she busied herself straightening papers on her desk. “Hank told him.” She pointed toward Andrew’s office. He had finished his phone call and waved me in.

As I took my seat, he composed an email, pecking away at the keyboard with his two index fingers. Impatient for the good news, I picked up the stress ball and squeezed it. Andrew’s monitor was set up kitty corner on his desk. I leaned to the left to see the screen. Squinting, I tried to make out his words, but the font was too small. I bent closer and thought I saw the wordsManaging Editorin the subject line. I scooted closer still. The font came into focus, and I read,I’m pleased to announce.

Before I could read another word, Andrew hit the send button, and the message disappeared into cyberspace. He swiveled in his chair to face me. I expected him to smile. His eyes narrowed, and the vein in his forehead pulsated.

Oh no.I squeezed the ball tighter. The last issue of the magazine sat on the corner of his desk. He pulled it toward him and opened to the center spread, the article on Declan’s. “Want to tell me what this is?”

“It’s the new it spot in town. Tourists and the locals love it.”

“You know who doesn’t love it? Hank, proprietor of one of our largest advertisers, Pendleton 88.”

The ball slipped from my hand and rolled across the desk toward Andrew.

“He says you have some sort of vendetta against him for taking over the space where your parents’ restaurant used to be.”

My neck muscles tensed as I pictured Hank a month after my parents’ death, hiking Mount Stapleton with Aunt Izzie, Dana, and me to spread their ashes. His salt-and-pepper curly hair blowing across his bearded face in the wind as he spoke. The sincerity in his deep-set, dark-brown eyes as he presented an argument on why Dana and I should sell the restaurant to him.I know what their dreams were for the place. I’ll carry on their traditions, make sure their vision becomes a reality.My parents had been in deep debt when they’d died, and Hank’s offer would cover their loans. Selling to him seemed like a no-brainer, especially because he promised to honor their memories.

I rolled my head, trying to loosen my neck muscles. “What does that have to do with the article on Declan’s?”

“Hank thinks you ran it to hurt his business.”

“That’s not true.” Page had suggested running an article on Declan’s after having dinner there one night. “I ran it because it’s a trendy new restaurant.”

“You ran an article promoting the competitor of one of our biggest advertisers.”

“He doesn’t get to dictate the editorial content of the magazine just because he runs a few ads every now and then.”

Andrew picked up the ball. He gripped it so tight it nearly flattened in his hand. “It’s not just a few ads. He’s our second-largest advertiser, and after he saw the article on his competitor, he called to pull all his ads.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but—”

“I had to talk to him in person to smooth things over.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Had to comp him an ad on the back cover in next month’s issue.” He emphasized the wordcomp. “And promise we would do a similar feature on his place.”

I glared at him, wishing he would have stood up to Hank instead of kowtowing. “I’ll ask Page to schedule some time with him.”

Andrew tossed the ball high into the air. When he caught it, he grinned. “Hank would like you to interview him and write the article.”

My stomach churned. “I’d rather not.”

“It will give you a chance to bury the hatchet.” He threw the ball up again. It bounced off the ceiling and ricocheted to the right, landing on the floor near where I was sitting. “I do have good news.”

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