Wendy Etherington - The Eleventh Hour

Tess patted her hand. “Brenda will understand. She’ll be pissed, but she’ll deal with it.”

Laine could feel angry tears clogging her throat. She wrapped her hand around the stem of her martini glass and had to resist the urge to hurl it across the room. “I just can’t believe it.”

Cat raised an eyebrow. “Had faith in the system, Lainey dear?”

Glaring at her sister for both the hated nickname and her caustic attitude, Laine crushed the letter in her fist. Of all the times she’d pulled Cat—kicking and screaming—out of one fix or another, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t succeeded this time. “Yes, I did. This isn’t right. How can they just take away everything we’ve worked for?”

Looking miserable, Gracie sipped her drink. “Because they can.”

Laine dropped the crumpled letter and envelope onto the bar, then shoved back her stool and turned away. They’d failed. She’d failed.

Though the idea to approach the historical society had been Gracie’s, Laine had taken charge of the process—compiling Gracie’s research, filing the paperwork, calling frequently for updates. As always, she’d handled everything down to the tiniest detail and she was the one who’d convinced the others that with the right plan, the right argument, there was hope they could convince the city not to demolish their building.

And if she was feeling this lousy, she couldn’t imagine her sister’s emotional turmoil. The bar was her baby. Though Laine balanced the books, made the work schedules, booked local bands for the weekends, ordered supplies and occasionally played barmaid, Cat worked daily and nightly behind that long mahogany bar. Temptation was her job and her life.

While Laine kept herself, her family and everybody else on schedule and organized, Cat relied on little but her guts and wits.

Which was why now—more than ever—Laine had to take up the slack.

Unlike Cat, she had a career outside the bar, one that would hopefully save them financially. After years as a photographer for a lifestyle magazine, she’d been hired recently at Century, a national, hard-hitting news publication. The assignments were pushing her past the comfort zone she’d fallen into, but for the raise she was getting, she’d find a way to manage. Her paycheck had just become essential. She couldn’t imagine Cat surviving on her own, and Laine couldn’t let her sister down.

Gracie appeared next to her, putting her arm around Laine’s waist. “This isn’t your fault.”

Laine shared a strained smile with her friend. “Sure it is. If I’d talked to the right person, made the right argument…”

“The city would still be steamrolling over our businesses.”

“Maybe.” Avoiding the subject of the bar closing, Laine glanced at her longtime friend. Gracie had grown up with her and Cat, then Tess had come along a few years later looking for a short-term job and had never left. The four of them had been through a lot together and had always found time for weekly poker at table seven. “What are you going to do now?”

“Find a new place for the bookstore, I guess,” Gracie said with a shrug. “I owe it to Aunt Fran.”

“I’ve got money from my new job.” Which she really wasn’t in a position to offer, but the bookstore was also Gracie’s only means of income. “If you need anything—”

“I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t take on so much. There’s nothing more you can do here. Why don’t you go away for a few days. Take some time for yourself.”

Laine shook her head. “I can’t. I’ve only done a few assignments for the magazine. Not to mention Aunt Jen is making me crazy. Those wildfires in California are threatening—”

Well, damn. Aunt Jen was relying on her, too. Even in the path of a forest fire, Jen had vowed never to leave her precious, hundred-year-old home.

Laine felt as if she was being pulled in a dozen different directions.

Money. The bar. Her job. Aunt Jen. The wildfire.

And she suddenly realized the only way to make it all work was to combine everything. If she could convince her editor to let her do a pictorial on the wildfire, she could earn a living and make sure stubborn Aunt Jen evacuated when necessary.

Cat wouldn’t be happy if she left, but neither could she deny that the income was vital. Her sister would just have to prepare the bar for closing and hold down the fort until she got back.

She glanced over her shoulder at Cat, who was mumbling something to Tess and looking miserable.

Maybe the responsibility would be good for her sister. Maybe the time by herself would urge her to finally get her life together. “June thirtieth, right?” she asked Gracie.

“That’s D-day apparently. Less than three weeks.”

Would her editor go for her assignment suggestion? There was only one way to find out.

“SO, HOW ABOUT ME in California?” Laine asked, rocking forward on her toes as she stood in front of her boss’s imposingly disorganized desk.

Mac Solomon’s silver-and-black eyebrows drew together. “That’s a big assignment.”

“I’m ready.” Or in desperate financial straits—take your pick.

“Maybe. You know my philosophy, right? Bad news sells better than good.”

“I remember.” And she knew how the assignment game was played with her boss—the aggressive, pushy photographer always won. Even if, deep down, she was scared to death of getting within ten miles of a raging wildfire. “You’ll be pleased to hear they’ve called in an arson investigator.”

“I want something on this dead smoke jumper.”

Laine swallowed and avoided glancing at the Internet story and picture she’d laid on her boss’s desk. Tommy Robbins had died five days ago fighting the northern California wildfire. In what seemed like a lifetime ago, she’d known him. He’d been a close friend of a guy she’d dated the summer she’d lived with Aunt Jen after her college graduation.

Those carefree days seven years ago had ended in heartbreak, and now her trip back would begin there. Part of her dreaded going. The rest of her relished the challenge.

“I’ll get you all you want on smoke jumping,” she said.

Her former lover, Steve Kimball, might not be thrilled to see her, but his ego certainly wouldn’t deny her the opportunity to follow him around and take pictures of him doing heroic stuff. Of course, she’d have to fight off the gaggle of women surrounding him, but that shouldn’t feel like a kick in the teeth this time around.

Mac harrumphed. “I want some action shots. Destruction and flames.”

“This story is not just about the fire itself, you know. The reports are that the blaze could consume most of the town of Fairfax. There will be evacuations, acts of courage, a community pulling together. It could be a real uplifting piece.”

“Tears are always good sellers.”

“Ah, Mac, you’re all heart.”

“I’m all business, Laine. You know that. We have that in common.”

While she considered herself a professional, she certainly hoped she never reached the jaded bad-news-sells-better-than-good status that Mac had.

“You’ll get the best,” she said.

“I want daily updates. E-mail me what you’ve got. If you can come up with a real action shot, maybe we’ll talk about the cover.”

A big fat bonus came with the cover shot. That would come in handy. Maybe she could pull together enough funds to send Cat back to school, as she’d once dreamed of doing.

“Not too much sissified human-interest crap,” Mac went on.

Since feel-good, human-interest pictures had always been her specialty, Laine had to swallow that blow to her pride. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

“I should be sending one of my guys to cover this, not the new girl.”