Linda Lee - Eva's Deadline

He folded his arms. “I can’t see us working together.”

“Me, neither. No. Never. Not in a million years. Newspaper writing is not what I do.”

“And fluff pieces aren’t what I do.”

Eva drew back and stared at him. “I beg your pardon. Seattle’s Best is every bit as serious a publication as...as a rag like the Herald.”

“The Herald is not a rag!”

Lawrence spread his hands. “People, people, please. This is not the time to argue about who writes what.”

Mark leaned forward. “Okay, but are you sure there isn’t some way out of this?”

The lawyer shook his head. “You’re both free to obtain your own counsel, of course.”

“I intend to,” Eva said. “There is no way I will spend another year of my life in this town.”

“I understand your position,” Lawrence said. “But don’t forget that Mark’s future depends on what you decide. If you don’t accept the terms, Mark loses his inheritance, too, and the newspaper goes on the block. Is that what you want, either of you? Think about it.”

* * *

MARK STOOD OUTSIDE Lawrence’s office, scanning the adjacent parking lot for Eva. When she’d stormed out, he’d impulsively followed. He wasn’t sure why. What was there to say? That he didn’t want his half of the newspaper? That wouldn’t be true. The Herald and its future meant everything to him. From the day Seb had hired him, Mark had devoted himself to the newspaper and its success.

He ran a hand through his hair. What a disaster.

Eva’s blue outfit made her easy to spot. She marched along, head high, her straw purse swinging from her shoulder. A woman on a mission. He watched her for a moment, debating whether he really wanted a confrontation, and then he ran after her. Just as she reached her car, he caught up.

“Eva!” He grabbed her arm, jerking her to a halt.

She looked down where he gripped her arm and then up at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He let go of her and stepped back. “I, uh, look, I know you’re upset—”

“Upset doesn’t begin to cover my emotional state. I’m devastated. But Seb’s will isn’t going to happen. I’ll call my lawyer. He’ll know what to do.”

He was about to say he’d do the same, but before he could, she said in an accusing tone, “Were you in on this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you know Seb was going to leave the Herald to both of us?”

Her outrageous accusation left him momentarily speechless. “If you’re suggesting I somehow influenced him, you’re dead wrong. Why would I want a mess like this?”

“Half owner is better than being totally cut out, isn’t it?”

“Not if I have to work with you.” He turned and strode off.

CHAPTER THREE

“I HOPE YOU HAVE good news.” Eva was back in Seattle sitting in her cubicle at the magazine. She’d given a copy of Seb’s will to her lawyer, Nolan Cramer, and he’d finally called.

As he spoke, her spirits sank. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can do?” she asked when he’d finished.

“I’m afraid not, Eva. Sorry. My advice? Accept the terms. You might like the experience better than you think.”

Eva doubted that.

She ended the call and slumped over her desk, head in her hands. Nolan had just confirmed what Lawrence Prentiss had already told her—the will was ironclad. She’d held out hope that the will could be broken, but now that door had closed.

Was there no way out of this?

She sat there, her mind spinning, and sure enough, an idea popped into her head. If her boss, James Forsythe, would take pity on her, she could at least soften the blow. She picked up the phone and called him.

Luckily, he had time to see her, and half an hour later she sat in his spacious office. As she waited for him to finish a phone call, she gazed around the room, taking in its warm brown-and-yellow color scheme, the desk, the credenza, even an armoire for storing coats. Someday, this office would be hers. She just knew it. Whenever she was in here, she mentally ran through the changes she would make. For starters, she’d replace the hydroplane photos—James’s son was a champion driver—with the colorful giclée flower prints she’d seen in a Pike Place Market gallery. Add a runner to the top of the credenza, and place her pewter umbrella stand, shaped like a half-open umbrella itself, by the door. Personal touches that would put her brand on the office.

Today she didn’t dare play her little game. Too much rode on convincing James to accept her plan. She knew her boss liked her and valued her as an employee. Surely he would help her through this crisis.

He finally finished his call and turned to her, his back to the picture window. The incoming sunlight glinted on the silver highlights in his dark hair.

“I’m glad you’re back, Eva. I’ve been thinking about you down there in Willow Beach and hoping everything was going okay.”

“I appreciate that, James. Yes, I think my father would have liked his memorial service and the reception afterward. But now I have a new problem.” Clasping her hands and leaning forward, she explained about her father’s will. “I don’t want to leave the magazine,” she concluded. “I like working at Seattle’s Best. I think I have a good future here.”

“You do, Eva.”

“So I thought if you could grant me a year’s leave of absence, then I could return when I finish my obligation in Willow Beach. I’ll miss out on any promotion this year, but at least I’ll still be in the game.” She leaned back and held her breath. He would accept her plan. He just had to.

But he shook his head and looked apologetic. “A year’s leave? Much as I’d like to help you out, I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

Her heart sank, but she wasn’t ready to give up. “Why?”

“A year is way too long. I might get the board to agree to a month, but a year? Never. I’m sorry. You know I’d do anything I could to help you, but my hands are tied.”

Her last hope crushed, Eva looked down to hide her reaction.

James rose, came around the desk and placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re disappointed, but why not consider this an opportunity?”

“An opportunity?” she said. “Living in a nowhere town and working for a weekly newspaper? I don’t think so.”

Of course, James didn’t know about Brett and the terrible accident and the memories that haunted her, and she wasn’t about to tell him. She’d never brought her personal problems into the workplace. Absently, she reached up and ran her forefinger over the silver chain. As usual, the medal itself was concealed under her clothing, but she knew it was there.

James clasped his hands behind his back and paced to the window. He looked out at the Seattle skyline, then turned back to her. “You know where I started out? Writing restaurant reviews for a newspaper in California, in a town about the size of your Willow Beach. The experience was the best I could’ve had.”

“But I’m not just starting out,” she complained. “I’m five years down the road. And being exiled to Willow Beach feels like going backward.”

“Your life has taken a different turn. Look on the bright side. Running a paper could be a great opportunity.”

Eva shook her head. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, James, but you’ll never convince me that this situation has a bright side.”

Instead of returning to her desk, Eva bypassed her cubicle and continued on to the large window at the end of the hallway and its sweeping view of Elliott Bay.

She folded her arms and leaned against the window frame, idly tracing the progress of a green-and-white ferry on its way to the Olympic Peninsula. Her last option was to refuse the terms of the will. But that would take away Mark’s inheritance, and if the new owner chose to not keep him on, his livelihood, too. He had a daughter to support. Sure, he’d be able to find work somewhere else, but, if she’d understood him correctly, the Herald meant a lot to him. And her father had wanted him to have a part of it.