Linda Lee - Eva's Deadline

Still, she much preferred the view of Elliott Bay from her fifth-floor Seattle condo. Fortunately, she’d be able to return to the condo when her exile here was over. Her leaving coincided with her coworker Susan Jensen’s need for new living quarters, and Susan had happily sublet Eva’s unit. Plus, Susan said Eva could stay there whenever she returned to Seattle, something she looked forward to. She was homesick already.

“And this apartment is furnished,” Mrs. Halsey said. “You won’t find many furnished places around here.”

Eva tore her gaze away from the view to focus on the lumpy maroon sofa and two stiff-looking chairs upholstered in 1950s lime-green. Once again, she thought of her condo, with the beige sectional couch she’d purchased from Sigma Design, the fashionable furniture store on Queen Anne Hill.

Still, Mrs. Halsey was right about the dearth of furnished apartments in Willow Beach; Eva had searched all the ads she could find, and this was the only one offered.

There was always her father’s house, which was now hers. She could live there until she finished cleaning out the place and put it on the market. She shook her head. Better to stay here in this dingy rental than to be surrounded by all the painful memories.

She turned to Mrs. Halsey. “All right, I’ll take the apartment.”

Mrs. Halsey beamed, then opened a file folder she’d been carrying under one arm. Extracting two sheets of paper, she handed them to Eva. “Here’s the lease. First and last month’s rent due up front.”

“Of course.” Eva scanned the lease, then signed her name to both copies. She gave one to Mrs. Halsey.

The older woman squinted at her signature. “Eva Sinclair.” She looked up. “Are you Seb’s daughter? Heard you were in town.”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Had to miss his memorial. Had to take care of my sick mother in Morganville.” She slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry for your loss. Seb was a wonderful man.”

“Thank you,” Eva said. Was there anyone in this town who did not think her father wonderful?

“You’re here to take over the Herald, then?” Mrs. Halsey tucked the lease into her file folder.

“Uh, no, just helping out for a while.”

“Good to keep it in the family.”

“Yes, well, I’d better start unloading my car,” Eva said hurriedly, not wanting to continue a discussion that made her uncomfortable. She stuffed her copy of the lease into her purse and headed for the door.

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER, Eva sat at the kitchen table in her new apartment, lingering over toast and coffee and putting off reporting for work at the Herald. When she could delay no longer, she stacked her dishes in the sink and collected her purse from the bedroom. On the way out, she glanced in the mirror on the bathroom door. She smoothed her chocolate-brown top over her beige slacks and tucked an errant lock of hair into the faux-pearl clip at her nape. At home, she would’ve worn a skirt, but this outfit ought to do just fine for the Herald. From what she’d seen of the staff, she doubted the newspaper had a dress code.

Leaving her car in its designated spot behind her apartment, she headed for the Herald’s office on foot.

Willow Beach hadn’t changed much, not the stores anyway. The window of Barnett’s Drugstore still displayed the same duck holding a placard that said Get Your Prescriptions Filled Here. And she would swear Macon’s Diner sported the very same café curtains in what was still an ugly black-and-white checker pattern. The Bon Ton Bakery still kept its door open, allowing enticing aromas to drift along the sidewalk.

Two blocks later, she arrived at the Herald, located between The Book Nook and Mac’s Barbershop. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, her fingers froze. Then, filling her lungs with a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside.

The receptionist, whose name Eva remembered was April Hensen, looked up from her desk situated behind a semicircular counter. She had pale blond hair as fine as corn silk and high cheekbones any model would envy. Unfortunately, her checkered, sleeveless blouse was more appropriate for housecleaning than for meeting the public. Eva was right. The Herald had no dress code.

She shut the door and crossed the room. “Good morning, April.” She hoped her cheerful tone sounded authentic rather than forced.

“Morning,” April said in a flat voice. “I’ll let Mark know you’re here.” She picked up the telephone and punched a button. “He’ll be right out,” she said when she’d hung up. She turned back to her computer.

Feeling more like a customer than the new coeditor, Eva gazed around. She hadn’t taken much time to survey the place the night she’d arrived. The shock of Seb’s death had preoccupied her.

The reception area was as drab as it had always been, with half a dozen molded plastic chairs bracketed by two small tables. In one corner, a terra-cotta tub held a tired-looking philodendron. She thought of Seattle’s Best’s reception area and its elegant black leather sofa, matching side chairs and glass-topped coffee table with its bouquet of fresh flowers provided weekly by a local florist.

Spotting a stack of the latest edition of the Herald on the counter, she walked over and picked up a copy. Tabloid-size, with Willow Beach Herald printed in big letters across the top, the paper had at the most ten or twelve pages. Compared to Seattle’s Best, a publication of at least fifty glossy pages, many in color, the Herald seemed hopelessly dull.

At the sound of footsteps, she turned to see Mark walking down the hallway. He wore his usual jeans and short-sleeved shirt—today’s was blue—that showed off his tanned, muscular arms.

Mark’s long-legged stride quickly brought him to her side. She thought he was going to reach out and shake her hand, and she braced herself for his touch. But he rested his hands on his slim hips and let his gaze sweep over her.

“Looks like you’re all ready to go to work.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she said with the same forced cheerfulness she’d used on April. She had the feeling she’d be calling on that voice a lot in the coming days.

“Right. First, though, we have a little surprise for you.”

Eva narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t look so worried,” he said with an easy grin. “It’s a nice surprise. In the staff room. You’ll see.” He glanced over his shoulder at April. “C’mon, April. You, too.”

April frowned. “I need to be here to answer the phone.”

“Did you forget about the extension in the staff room?”

“Oh, all right.”

April stalked around her desk, arms hugging her slender waist, lower lip thrust out, and fell into step behind Eva as Mark led the way. Her flip-flops slapped on the tiles as she shuffled along.

Mark took them down the hallway, past the staff’s cubicles—all empty, Eva noticed—to the employees’ lounge. A yellow banner stretched across the ceiling. Welcome, Eva! proclaimed the bold red letters.

Eva stared. She hadn’t expected anything like this on her first day. Unexpectedly, she choked up. Were they really welcoming her? Did they really want her to be here?

Several tables had been pushed together to make a large square. In the center sat a tray of doughnuts and a stack of red paper plates and yellow napkins. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air.

“I think you know everyone.” Mark gestured to the three people standing near the tables.

“I do. You’re Cody.” She nodded at the tall twentysomething man wearing a T-shirt bearing the Herald’s logo and then turned to a stocky dark-haired man. “Bernie, in Advertising, right?” Bernie nodded. “And of course I know you, Dora Winters. You’ve been Dad’s circulation manager forever.”