Linda Lee - Eva's Deadline

She focused on the gray-haired woman, who barely came up to Bernie’s shoulder. The yellow tote she clutched had knitting needles sticking out the top. “Still knitting, I see. How many scarves have you done?”

Dora smiled. “Too many to count. Good to see you again, Eva.”

“Have a seat and dig into the doughnuts.” Mark strode to the table and pulled out a chair, motioning to Eva. “Bon Ton Bakery’s best. April picked them out. She’s our official doughnut buyer. Aren’t you, April?”

April scowled. “If you say so.”

Ignoring the ill-humored response, Mark pointed to the chair. “Come on, Eva. Sit and enjoy.”

Eva had no desire to add any food to her already queasy stomach, but she dutifully sat. Mark picked up the plate of doughnuts and held it out. She selected one with white icing and sprinkles. He crossed the room to the coffeemaker and picked up a mug. “You take anything in your coffee?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Black is fine.”

At home, she’d have stopped on her way to work to buy her favorite hazelnut latte. But she wasn’t at home. She was in Willow Beach having coffee and doughnuts with her new staff. With the possible exception of Dora Winters, a staff that obviously wasn’t any happier about her being here than she was.

Dora sat across from Eva and began adding stitches to her scarf. Bernie grabbed a mug that said World’s Greatest Husband and stood behind Mark at the coffee urn. Cody pulled out his phone and studied the screen. April heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes.

Mark brought Eva’s coffee and one for himself. Bernie joined them, then Cody and finally April, who sat as far away from Eva as she could.

Eva had to give Mark credit for trying to build a conversation, but each attempt drifted off into uncomfortable silence. She nibbled her doughnut and sipped her coffee.

Finally Cody looked at his wristwatch, and his eyes widened. “Hey, I’ve got a shoot scheduled. I need to get going.” He grabbed his camera, jumped up and, with long-legged strides, headed for the door.

Chair legs scraped the tile floor as the others mumbled their excuses and fell in behind Cody. They disappeared out the door and down the hallway.

Eva glanced up at the banner. So much for a welcome. “Well, you tried,” she said to Mark, forgetting to use her cheerful voice and resorting to sarcasm.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. “They’ll loosen up when they get to know you.” He drained his coffee cup. “We’d better get you set up with an office.”

“Right.” Eva stood and carried her cup to the sink. This was going to be a long day.

CHAPTER FOUR

“THIS IS WHERE I hang out.” Mark pointed to the open doorway of a small office near the back of the building. He nodded at an adjacent closed door. “You can have this office.” He stepped forward and put a hand on the knob.

“Wait,” Eva said. “Isn’t that my father’s?”

“Yeah, it is...was.”

Eva raised both hands. “No. No way am I going to use his office. Why don’t you take his and I’ll take yours?”

Mark frowned. “Why should I move, when you could just as well use his?”

Eva shook her head. “You’re not hearing me. I said no.”

They glared at each other.

Eva’s heart thudded, but she wasn’t going to back down. She didn’t belong in that office. She would never belong there. A lump rose in her throat.

She swallowed and tried again. “Why don’t you want to take my father’s office now? You’ll eventually be there anyway. Once I’m gone, you’ll be on your own here.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Mark said.

“That still doesn’t explain why you don’t want to move into his office now.”

“You haven’t given me a reason why you won’t take it,” Mark pointed out.

No, and she wouldn’t, either. Eva expelled an exasperated breath. “We’re going around in circles.”

“It’s his or a corner of mine.”

“What about the broom closet?”

“We don’t have one.”

“We do, too. I remember one down that way.” She pointed to where the hallway angled off to the right.

Mark jutted out his chin. “Don’t be ridiculous. The paper’s editor working out of the broom closet?”

“Works for me.”

Mark shook his head. “You are something else.”

Neither said anything. Mark stared at the floor. Eva crossed her arms and tapped her foot. In one of the cubicles, a phone jangled. Mark finally looked up. “Okay, there is one other possible place for you. We have an extra cubicle that freelancers use. You can park there.”

“Where will the freelancers work?”

“I’ll fix up a corner of Seb’s office. Somebody will get some use out of it.”

“All right.”

Mark led her down the hall to the cubicle. Eva peered at it. About half the size of the one she had at Seattle’s Best, it contained a desk with a computer and a phone and a two-drawer file cabinet. “Pretty basic, isn’t it?”

Mark shrugged. “You had your choice.”

“Okay, now that I have a place to park, as you put it, what am I supposed to do?”

“We need to discuss that. Come on into my office.”

Mark’s office was considerably larger than the cubicles but as simply furnished, with the exception of a high-backed black vinyl desk chair. Her father had had a chair just like that, she remembered. A worktable near the window held a stack of file folders and several books.

He directed Eva to a straight chair on the other side of his desk and then sank into his chair, swiveling around to face her. He picked up a copy of the Herald lying on the desktop. “Seen our latest issue?”

“I glanced at it when I first came in, but I haven’t read it.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve seen any back issues, either.” He picked up a thick file folder.

“Not a one.”

“Didn’t think so.” He slid the newspaper and the folder in her direction. “Take a look. I think you’ll find the paper has changed a lot since you worked here.”

Eva laced her fingers together in her lap and, with studied patience, said, “I never worked here. I helped out summers when I was in high school. Opening the mail, mostly.”

Mark shrugged dismissively. “Whatever.”

Eva picked up the paper. She turned the pages, scanning the headlines: “Local School Board Loses Longtime Member,” “Facts About Home Buying,” “Traffic Increase Prompts Study.”

Bor-ing. Aloud, she said, “Looks like quite a variety of articles.”

“News articles. The Herald reports important happenings around town.”

She met his stern gaze. “What are you trying to say, Mark? That what I write at Seattle’s Best isn’t news? What did you call my writing when we were in Lawrence’s office? ‘Fluff’ pieces?”

“A publication like Seattle’s Best has its place.”

“But obviously a less prestigious place than a newspaper like the Herald.”

Mark shook his head. “I’m not trying to pick a fight. I just wanted to make our mission clear.”

“Trust me, you have,” she said crisply.

Mark cleared his throat. “Getting back to your role here, I figured the closest to what you’ve been writing would be the Our Town column. Notices of club meetings, food drives, activities at the senior center, that sort of thing.”

“Who’s been doing that up to now?”

“One of our freelancers. A sweet lady named June Baker. She was very disappointed when I told her we wouldn’t be needing her anymore.”

“I don’t want to take anyone’s job. Isn’t there something else I can do?”

“Besides the Our Town column? You can help me with the overall layout and editing. And I’m sure we’ll find some other tasks to keep you busy.”