T. McClure - An Allegheny Homecoming

The husky man lifted a pile of newspapers from the single chair in front of his desk and motioned for her to sit. He settled into his own chair with a heavy sigh. Rolled-up shirtsleeves displayed hairy, muscular forearms. “We haven’t had a chance to talk yet. Did you know Mark will be gone for the next three days?” He didn’t sound pleased with the chief meteorologist.

Wendy was curious. “He is? Since when?”

“Since he had Sharon approve it before he left. Apparently the man has an uncanny knack for predicting snowfall. He’s headed to Vermont to ski.”

Wendy slumped in her chair. She knew what that meant. She would be doing the early morning, noon, evening and eleven o’clock weather. In other words, she would be living at the station. She hadn’t complained when Mark had married last year and spent a month in Cancun for his honeymoon. But skiing? “So I’ve got it all.”

“You have a problem with that?” At the end of the sentence, his bushy eyebrows rose, almost meeting in the middle.

Wendy bristled at the man’s tone. She kept her answer short. “I can handle it.” She had seen Mark just last Friday. Funny the man hadn’t bothered to mention he had planned to take a few weekdays off, but then, ever since the news of her Atlanta offer had made the rounds at the station he had distanced himself.

The wooden desk chair creaked in protest as Walt leaned back and cupped his hands behind his head, as if trying to figure out if she were telling him the truth. “He already had the leave approved by the time I arrived. Sharon must have thought you could do it.”

“To be honest, the three years I’ve been here Mark has always taken off for fresh powder. Early this year, though.” Wendy drummed her fingers on the arm of her wooden chair. Her chair didn’t tilt back.

Walt stared at the tile ceiling. Then he stretched and brought his chair forward with a thump. “The station had additional staff then.”

Wendy nodded. “Budget cuts.” She looked around the small office and wondered how much, if any, the previous station manager had shared with Walt. Sharon knew all about Wendy’s drive to the big time. And she had almost made it. “How often did you talk with Sharon before she left?”

He pulled a cigar from his center desk drawer and stuck it in one corner of his mouth. “In the thirty seconds she had to tell me everything I needed to know, she might have mentioned you had an offer from an Atlanta affiliate last year.” He held her gaze. “I understand the job didn’t materialize.”

Wendy squirmed. “That’s one way to put it.” She had been mortified, after telling everyone and his brother she was leaving, the deal had fallen through. Walt seemed to be waiting for more. She was well aware of the technique. Don’t say anything, until the person across from you felt compelled to fill the silence and blurted out the information you’re looking for. She never seemed to have an opportunity to use it. Lips pressed tightly together, she met the gaze of the blue-eyed newsman sitting across the messy desk.

Walt smiled. He rested muscular forearms on top of the papers strewed across the desk. The cigar bounced up and down. “And then the news anchor job came open, and they brought in Casey from Georgia. I’ll bet that rattled you, eh?”

Wendy squirmed some more. If Sharon hadn’t told the man how hard she had lobbied for the position, then she was better off if Walt never knew. “Casey has a great on-air personality. I’m totally on board.” She had been so sure the anchor position was hers. Casey’s sparkling white teeth had won over the higher-ups and here she was, still doing the weather for WSHF in rural central Pennsylvania.

“Hmm. I’d wondered how you felt about the shake-up.” Walt’s mouth tilted in what Wendy assumed was a grin. “Did you ask your sister for advice?”

Shock ricocheted through her body. “What sister?”

“What sister?” Walt laughed out loud, a big booming laugh that seemed to ricochet around the small office. “How could I not know about your sister? She’s famous in this business. Anchor on a national news desk at twenty-five, interviewer of the rich and famous for the last ten years. Not to mention you share the same last name.” He tapped his forefinger on his head.

Wendy’s heart thumped in her chest as she fought to calm her breathing. She and her sister looked nothing alike. Katie was tall and blond. Wendy was short and dark. Each took after her mother. “I want to make it on my own merit.”

Walt nodded. “Sure you do. You majored in broadcasting, minored in journalism and took six credits in meteorology. And your first job is in your hometown. As a weather girl.”

Wendy bit her tongue to keep from correcting the man. He was in the news business, and he still used the term weather girl? “This was the first offer I got. I didn’t think I’d be here this long but, hey, the economy.”

“The economy.” He picked up a painted shot glass and held it with two fingers. “Which is why I expect you to stick with the weather. If I want interviews, I’ll send Casey. Is that going to be a problem?”

The new station manager was giving her a warning. He didn’t care if she wanted a different job or not. He had a station to look after. “Of course not.” Wendy readjusted her position on the hard wooden chair. “Look, Walt, I have to run home and get back by noon. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” She didn’t say she had hoped for a few minutes of respite at The Wildflower, the local coffee shop in Bear Meadows, where the baristas made the perfect nonfat vanilla latte.

Walt didn’t seem to have heard her. He continued to play with the shot glass for several seconds. “You live about twenty miles from here, right?”

She shouldn’t have been surprised he knew where she lived. He was, after all, a newsman. “A few miles outside of Bear Meadows.”

“You know how to operate the camera?” One bushy eyebrow raised as he finally set the shot glass next to the desk lamp and caught her gaze.

She nodded. “Absolutely.” Part of her internship had been setting up the camera and then doing her own reporting without the help of a camera operator.

“Why don’t you take one of the smaller cameras with you and do the weather from a remote location? Pick something picturesque. You can email the report in, and at least you’ll be out of the studio.” A flash of teeth again.

To avoid the sharp-eyed gaze, Wendy stared at the floor. Framed photographs filled a cardboard box. The one on top looked like Walt in front of... She squinted. Mount Kilimanjaro? What was he doing in little Shadow Falls? She wondered if the shot glass had anything to do with it. “Um, if you say so.” Carting a piece of camera equipment around with her sounded like a pain; on the other hand, she wouldn’t have to drive back to Shadow Falls for the noon report. She could go straight home. “Anyplace in particular you have in mind?”

Walt directed his attention to the television overhead, dismissing her. The low murmurings of the national news filled the silence. “You know this area better than I do. You decide.”

Wendy’s mind started spinning. She pictured the perfect spot. The bridge over Little Bear Creek. It was on the way home. And she would still have time for a latte. She deserved one, extra-large.

* * *

JOSH HUNTER FINISHED securing the fence that had been pressed to the ground by a fallen tree. The cattle had already been moved into the lower pastures for the winter, but there could be a few strays still wandering the high mountains of the northern Montana ranch. It was hard, but satisfying work. Although he still wasn’t sure they actually needed a ranch hand here, or if his friend Matt hadn’t convinced his uncle to find a job for Josh.