by June Faver
Evan flicked his gaze over Frank and nodded.
Oh boy!
* * *
Reggie Lee awoke snarled in the sheets. She had tossed and turned until she was thoroughly entangled. She tried to relax, but one thought kept racing through her brain. I’m the editor of the Rambling Gazette.
A flush of pleasure raced through her being. “I am the editor of the Gazette.” Whispering it aloud didn’t make it seem any less astonishing.
She stretched her arms overhead and pointed her toes, taking up the entire bed. She relished every little bit of time she had to reflect on her recent change of fortune.
Reggie had spent most of her life taking care of her family and helping others. In fact, just about anyone who asked for her help was rewarded with her enthusiastic consent. She took good care of her daughter. She helped her daddy in his store. She volunteered in the summer reading program at the local library. She participated on committees at her church. She crocheted tiny blankets for premature infants at the hospital. She was, by anyone’s definition, a nice person.
If one were to describe a successful newspaper editor, nice was probably not an adjective one would choose. Tough. Hard-boiled. Pugnacious. Staunch. Unswerving… She grasped for other words to describe the editor she was not…yet. “I’m fair and reliable. Those are good qualities.” And I’m nice…
Not what she wanted to be at the moment. She narrowed her gaze and assumed a haughty expression. She would have to toughen up if she was to fit into her new role as editor of the Rambling Gazette. How tough would she have to be?
She exhaled and sat up, feeling around with her feet for her fuzzy pink scuffs. “Very tough!” She would have to direct the sales staff and the reporters and the guys who were in charge of circulation. Most of all, she would have to develop her tough genes if she were going to stand up to the man who owned the building.
Frank Bell appeared to be an excellent businessman. The ideas he had flipped out of his brain off the cuff had been fabulous. And his ideas had given her ideas. How would she impress such a bright guy?
Stripping off her T-shirt, she stepped into the shower. The water woke her all the way up. She lathered her hair, rinsed, and applied a fragrant conditioner before her final rinse. She twisted the taps and wrapped a towel around her hair.
She groped for her terry robe and shuffled to her daughter’s room. Shannon was awake and singing. Reggie greeted her with a kiss. “Morning Glory.”
Shannon giggled. “Mommy! You got me wet!”
Reggie went through her familiar morning routine by rote, getting Shannon dressed, making breakfast, and wiping her breakfast off her daughter’s face. Getting herself dressed was a rushed procedure but fairly easy; she made clothing decisions the night before, so throwing on her clothes was a snap. And finally buckling her daughter into her car seat for the short trip to day care. She parked in front of the quaint 1950s bungalow with the fenced yard and play equipment. There was a modest sign with the Babes in the Woods Day Care name. A name as quirky as the owner.
Jill Garland, the day care owner and one of her best friends, greeted her at the door. “Good morning, Shannon.” She gave the little girl a brief hug as she was eager to run inside. “And good morning, Reggie. You’re absolutely glowing. What’s going on?”
Reggie gave a little squeal. “I’m so excited. I can hardly breathe.”
Jill stood back with her hands fisted on her hips. “Well, spill it, girl.”
“I’m the editor of the Gazette.”
Jill stared at her with no change of expression.
“No, really. I am the new editor. I swear.”
Jill’s jaw dropped open. “No! What did you do? Kill off old Phil Jergens? Do you need an alibi? I’m sure I was with you. We were watching television.”
Reggie laughed. “Relax, Jill. It’s even weirder than that.” She sucked in a breath and let it out all at once. “Remember Franklinstein?”
Jill gave an exaggerated shudder. “Do I! He was such a jerk.” She leaned up against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Yeah, he was. But he inherited the Gazette building. He was kind of scary when he first came into the office, and he scared Phil into resigning.” Reggie heaved a sigh. “Turns out old Phil, pillar of society, was skimming money.”
Jill’s eyes widened. “No way! I can’t believe that. He was so—so stuffy and proper.”
“That he was, but he had several nonexistent employees on the payroll…family members, as I understand it.”
Jill covered her mouth with both hands. “That is something I never would have guessed. So how did you get to be editor?”
“In his resignation letter, Phil named me editor. So I guess I’m the boss now.” Reggie giggled in delight.
Jill suddenly sobered. “That is a lot of responsibility, my friend. Trust me. Even as the owner of a much smaller business, it never lets up. I’m always ‘Miss Jill’ no matter where I am here in Rambling.” She pointed a finger at Reggie Lee. “And you will always be ‘the editor’ no matter what. If someone doesn’t like an editorial, it will be your fault. So be prepared.”
“I’m pretty sure I can handle it. Well, maybe after I get used to the fact that I am the editor. How about that?” Reggie couldn’t help but be amused by the look of shock on Jill’s face.
“I’m just blown away. You’ve got to really gut up, girl.” Jill kept shaking her head. “I thought Phil would stay behind that desk until he was mummified.”
Reggie heaved a disgusted sigh. “I thought so too, but when Frank came in to check out the building he’s inherited, he started making comments about the newspaper business and asking related questions about revenue and sales. Frank was going to return the next day to take a thorough tour of the property.” Reggie shrugged. “I don’t think anyone from the paper has been upstairs in years. The free rent Miss Rosie agreed to had the stipulation that the Gazette was responsible for the upkeep of the building.”
Jill was frowning now. “I suppose the upkeep had been minimal?”
“I’m pretty sure the upkeep was nonexistent. That meant he could toss the Gazette out for not living up to its end of the agreement. Phil was really upset. When Frank found his resignation, I was surprised, but I suppose my initial thoughts were that Phil was old and tired. Turns out he was sucking out quite a bit of money.”
Jill’s mouth dropped opened in an exaggerated look of surprise. “I am truly blown away. He’s a deacon in the church.” She crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “And this is what Frank inherited? I’ll bet he blew his top.”
“Nope, he was quite calm about it and just expects me to make things better. Love you, girl, but I’ve got to get to the newspaper. Not setting a good example for the little people.” She gave a little Queen Mum wave and stepped down off the porch. “See you later.”
Jill let out a squawk. “You bet you will. I need the deets. Good luck with the little people. Hope they don’t eat you alive.”
Reggie waved goodbye and drove to the Gazette. Most of the staff had yet to arrive. She hesitated a moment before pulling into the space reserved for the editor. She sat in the car for a moment, her stomach entertaining a squadron of butterflies that seemed to be performing loop-de-loops. Heaving a deep sigh, she banished the butterflies before turning off the ignition and entering the building.
* * *
Frank had slept in. Well, not really. He had lain in the bed that seemed far too small now but that had suited him just fine as a teen. He realized he was going to have to face the fact that the house needed to be dealt with. He would have to decide which room would be his, and he would need to order some new furniture to accommodate his adult self.
Yeah…a new mattress would be a welcome change…
It dawned on him that he was nesting. That idea should have alarmed him because Frank Bell was not a nes
ter. He was…a nomad. A man of the world, meant to roam unfettered…free…
But this was his Aunt Rosie’s house. The kind and generous woman who had embraced him as a rebellious and unwanted teen. The woman who had loved him when he was completely unlovable.
He would always keep her house as a memorial to the great lady. If he had roots, then they were right here in Rambling, Texas. Right here in this Victorian house. She was a beauty, but she needed a little tender loving care, and he was up for the job.
He thought perhaps his willingness to stick around for a while might have something to do with the beautiful, brown-eyed Reggie Lee Stafford. He may have turned her around by giving her encouragement to take on the editor job, but he had a feeling that she would dig in and find ways to improve the Rambling Gazette. She was a creative person, and being handed the reins of the newspaper should kick her imagination into overdrive. In their thorny past, he had always found that she rose to meet any and every challenge. The girl has grit.
Now, he had a challenge or two on his own plate.
The four-story building that housed the Rambling Gazette had been sadly neglected. He wouldn’t be surprised to find rats and other varmints living upstairs. He wasn’t looking forward to exploring the upper levels, but it had to be done.
And there were the repairs required to maintain the Victorian, but fixing up the lovely home would be much more pleasurable.
And there was the follow-up to the small matter of maintaining his friendship with Evan Hauser. It was important to Frank to make sure his longtime friend felt secure in his job and that the employer–employee relationship didn’t cause any damage. Big, affable Evan had been a true friend and had been the one to keep Kenny Landers from slaughtering him on a daily basis. Maybe he could come up with a plan to reward Evan for his tenure and the progress he had made with the vineyard and winery. Maybe Evan might be willing to take on some tasks in Frank’s overhaul of his new but old properties.
Frank had a slew of friendly acquaintances all over the East Coast of the United States and Western Europe. But real friends were few and far between. Better make sure to build the one true friendship he had in Rambling.
Yes, indeed. Frank was nesting.
* * *
As the day wore on, Reggie took a few minutes to surf the internet. She had closed her office door, telling Gayle Sutton, the receptionist, that she was doing research. She was doing research all right…on Frank.
It hadn’t been hard to find Franklin Bell online. There were a zillion images of him. In many he was dressed in formal wear at a charity event. He looked quite elegant in a tux. Not the same rebellious youth who had haunted her adolescence with asinine pranks. But who was he really?
His business activities were astounding. He had bought and sold businesses in England, France, and Germany.
Reggie took a moment to consider that fact. She wondered if he spoke other languages. She scrolled through other images, trying to get an idea of who Frank Bell had become.
Since he owned the building where she worked, she presumed they would be interacting with each other from time to time. Although he seemed to be quite pleasant at the moment, there was always the possibility that he would decide to sell the building. The Gazette paid no rent, by way of an unwritten agreement between Frank’s great-aunt and the former editor. All bets were off now.
Reggie leaned back in her chair and tented her fingers. How can I keep that from happening? How can I ensure that this building will always house the newspaper?
Frank held the reins of her future as a newspaper editor.
She reached for a pitcher of ice water Gayle kept filled and poured herself a glass. It seemed that her throat had become dry as the Sahara. She glugged it down and returned to her research.
She found images of Frank on a yacht. The boat was moored in some exotic Mediterranean port or another and the photos showed Frank in a pair of shorts or swim trunks, showing off his lean, athletic body.
Reggie Lee swallowed hard as she stared at Frank shirtless. He had a great body. Not like Kenny’s puffy, over-muscled torso, but lean, with ripped muscles in his arms and shoulders and a set of washboard abs. Sucking in a deep breath and releasing it, she thought how easy it would be to fall for this man.
Not gonna happen.
She scrolled through the stories and pictures, thinking there was very little chance the mighty Frank Bell would be interested in a small-town girl such as herself. She was a mother, after all.
But she couldn’t resist scrolling through the images again. Heaving a sigh, she turned off the computer and folded her hands on her desk.
“Well…” She heaved another sigh. “Well…”
* * *
Gayle Sutton sat at her desk, frustrated and on edge. She had worked at the Gazette for the past seven years, and things had always remained the same.
She was the receptionist. Gayle the receptionist. She had approached Phil once about expanding her role, but he had shut that down in a hurry. No, she would always remain Gail the receptionist.
But now what?
She had always taken pride in working for the newspaper.
She liked Reggie Lee Stafford, but that was in her position as a part-time reporter. What would she bring about in her new position as editor?
Gayle sighed and straightened her spine. Her job was to answer the phone and greet people who came in the door. She was qualified to take information for want ads and collect payment for them. For just about everything else, she was to call up another employee to deal with it.
But now, was there a chance that Reggie might be willing to give her the opportunity to grow in her job?
She was almost afraid to hope for a change.
On the other hand, perhaps the always-pleasant Reggie would change with her new responsibilities and become a beast to work for. Maybe she would be worse than Phil, who had merely ignored her.
Gayle huffed out a frustrated sigh. She was stuck. No matter what Reggie demanded of her, she would be bound to perform the task without complaint. The plight of the small-town girl with no particular education or skills.
The little bell over the door jingled to indicate someone had just entered.
Gayle went to the counter to greet Paul Harmon, the middle school history teacher. He was so shy that dealing with him was usually almost painful.
“Hi, Mr. Harmon. How are you today?”
Sure enough, he blinked, and the tips of his ears turned red. “I, uh…I just wanted to, uh…”
She folded her hands on top of the counter and smiled, hoping to give him confidence. No impatience here…I’ve got all day…
“Well, I want to run an ad.” He was actually very nice-looking in a starched-and-ironed sort of way. His thick brown hair was always parted neatly on the same side, and he always appeared to have just stepped out of the barbershop.
“Excellent! Let me take your information.” She pulled out a pad used for that purpose. “What kind of ad is it?”
“Kind?” He looked bewildered.
“You know. Are you selling something? Or hiring someone?”
He pressed his lips together as though considering. “Um, I lost something…or someone.”
“Someone?” Gayle peered at him. “Shouldn’t you call the sheriff’s office for a missing person?”
“Oh, not that kind of person,” he protested. “My dog…my dog is missing.”
Gayle’s face morphed into one of concern. She was a sucker for animals of all kinds and hated to think that this man’s dog was lost somewhere. “Oh, I’m so sorry. What kind of dog is it?”
He looked bewildered. “Kind? Just a dog…a small dog.”
She looked at him expectantly.
Another blush. “Well, you know…” He made hand gestures to indicate the dog wasn’t very big.
“A sm
all dog?”
“Yes.” He regarded her with kind-looking brown eyes framed by large black glasses.
“Now we’re getting somewhere. A small dog…”
When he didn’t respond, she remained pleasant, although her patience was thinning. “Is it a boy or a girl dog, Mr. Harmon?”
“Um, could you knock off the Mr. Harmon? I get that all day at school.” He shrugged. “Just call me Paul…please.”
“Sure thing, Paul. Now how about sex?”
That jolted him into a whole different dimension. He gazed at her wide-eyed.
“No, I mean, what sex is your dog? Male or female?” Okay, it was her turn to blush.
He chuckled a little. “Uh, female.” He was really cute when he grinned.
She grinned back at him and then sighed. “Okay, so it’s a small female dog. What color is she?”
He swallowed hard.
What was so difficult about describing his dog? Maybe she was being unknowingly domineering? Time to be sweeter. She tilted her head to one side and smiled. “Is she brown? Or white? Or maybe black?”
“Yes,” he said, looking hopeful.
Gayle stared at him. “Your dog is black, brown, and white?”
He nodded furiously. “Absolutely. She has spots.”
She stifled the urge to roll her eyes. “And my last question… What is her name?”
“Oh, uh…” He looked totally flummoxed. “Violet. Her name is Violet.”
Gayle added his phone number, scribbled words on the pad to create a lost dog ad, and quoted him a price.
Paul gave her his credit card, and when the transaction was done, he raised a hand to bid her goodbye. He appeared to be a little sad, but Gayle figured he was missing his dog.
“Hope you get her back,” she called as he headed for the door.
Gayle heaved a sigh. Back to contemplating her position in the newly shaken-up hierarchy of employees.
* * *
Frank strolled around the entire exterior perimeter of the house, his footfalls sounding on the wooden porch. My place now. He stopped to lean against the railing and look out over the property. The idea of being a landowner was growing on him…especially since he would never be able to sell the winery without destroying his friend Evan’s life work.
