The Good Byline

by Jill Orr

  “I see,” I said, feeling an embarrassing mixture of hope and relief. “That’s good. I mean, I guess. I mean…whatever.”

  He suppressed a smile. “Actually, I have a confession to make. I didn’t ask you out as part of the investigation.”

  My belly flipped.

  “I joined Click.com as Ajay Badal to connect with Jordan but hadn’t had a chance to deactivate my account after she died. Then I saw your profile pop up.” He put his hands into his pockets, a gesture I was beginning to notice was common for him. “Regina H thought we’d be a good match. I guess maybe I did, too.”

  “So you used government resources to ask Riley out on a date?” Holman walked up. He’d been eavesdropping on our conversation.

  “Hey, Will,” Jay said. “Find anything good?”

  “Payday.” Holman held up his half-eaten candy bar. I noticed that he was looking at Jay the way a twelve-year-old girl would look at Taylor Swift. I think he’d developed a man-crush on Jay after he swooped in and saved our lives. I could relate.

  “So where will you go now that the case is over? Back to Jersey?” I asked, trying to hide how invested I felt in the answer.

  Jay shook his head. “I think they’re going to keep me in the area for a while longer. For a sleepy little corner of the world, Tuttle County has some vigorous criminal activity.”

  “He’s right,” Holman said. “That’s why you should come to work with me at the Times. We’d make a great team. Right, Jay?” Over the last few days, Holman had been begging me to quit working for the library and come work with him at the Times. Said Kay Jackson had already okayed it. But I had yet to give him an answer.

  Jay looked at me for an extra beat and then turned to Holman and said, “I think Riley would be an asset to any team she chooses to join.”

  My belly flipped again, and I felt a blush beginning. It wasn’t an intimate compliment, but it wasn’t wholly un-intimate either. It was somewhere between I like your purse and I’d do the three-legged race with you any day.

  I smiled instinctively and tried to think of something clever to say in response. I think what I came up with was, “Thanks.”

  “All right,” Jay said, a patch of scarlet blooming on his own cheeks. “Go get some rest. I’m heading back in. See you around.”

  Jay had already turned to walk inside before I got out the words “I hope so.” I wondered if I would see him around or if our moment had passed. Maybe there were just too many extenuating circumstances for us to try again. As I watched him walk into the building, I couldn’t help but think that was a shame.

  CHAPTER 42

  It was a bright, cloudless day that was lacking the usual humidity, and the air felt pleasantly warm and comfortable. A gentle breeze blew across the front lawn outside the First Methodist Church in downtown Tuttle Corner. I swept my bangs away from my eyes and looked at the groups of people walking toward the entrance dressed in somber clothing.

  It seemed like the entire town of Tuttle Corner had turned out for Jordan’s funeral. Mr. and Mrs. James had pushed the service back a few days after the DEA told them the real story behind Jordan’s death. They needed some time to process the new information. Despite their devastating grief, I think they took some solace in the fact that Jordan had not left this world by her own hand. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. I could imagine that knowing that it wasn’t suicide would provide comfort in the years going forward. I think a part of me still hoped that someday I’d be able to prove the same about Granddaddy.

  Kevin Monroe was being held in jail awaiting his trial. He’d been charged with conspiracy to commit extortion and abuse of public trust. But I knew that whatever the judicial system had in store for Mr. Monroe, it was nothing compared to the hell he was putting himself through.

  Sheriff Tackett had been transferred to a jail in another county, as the judge deemed he wouldn’t be safe in the same jail where he’d sent most of the inmates. According to Carl, who had been appointed acting sheriff, the case against Tackett was strong, and in addition to the corruption charges, he was going to be charged with conspiracy to commit murder. Apparently, Gonzalez had given him up like a bad habit in hopes of making a deal for himself.

  Nothing would bring Jordan back, but I felt a deep sense of relief that at least the people responsible for her death would pay.

  “Have you given any more thought to my offer?” Holman’s voice cut across my thoughts. He was like a dog with a bone about this job thing.

  I rolled my eyes, but the truth was, in the past few days, I’d done little else but think about his offer. Part of me wanted to take the job, and part of me wanted to stay in my safe, comfortable job at the library. It was the only job I’d ever had, and even though I’d stayed there mostly through inertia, I’d miss working with Dr. H, and maybe even Tabitha. So when I hadn’t been in DEA interviews, or explaining everything to my parents, or passed out from exhaustion, I’d been thinking about whether or not to go to work for the Times. I’d sworn I’d never work in the newspaper business after Granddaddy died, but there was a definite excitement to the work. Plus, look at how much good we were able to do! Because of our investigations, some really bad guys were going to prison. It felt good knowing I’d been a part of that. Kay Jackson also intimated that as a part of my work, I’d be able to work the Obits desk, such as it was. I had to admit I liked the sound of that.

  “I’m still thinking it over, Holman.”

  “‘Don’t think. Do.’ Yoda said that.”

  “No, Yoda said, ‘Do or do not. There is no try.’ They’re going to revoke your nerd card if you can’t even properly quote Yoda.”

  “You’re avoiding the subject.”

  “Very good, Sherlock.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Hal Flick leaning against a tree in front of the rectory. “What’s he doing here?”

  Holman’s eyes followed mine. “I know you two have a complicated history, but I think you’ve got him wrong, Riley.”

  I scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

  “You know, when he heard you were taken hostage, he was frantic. He insisted on being involved in the rescue plan.”

  “Wait—what?” This was the first I’d heard of that.

  “Yeah, I thought I told you. Flick was the one who urged me to call in Ajay, I mean, Jay.”

  “I thought you said you came up with the plan.”

  “I did. After Flick gave me the idea.” He blinked at me in the birdlike way of his and waited for me to respond. But I was too taken aback. It had been Flick who suggested involving Jay? It was Flick’s idea that saved our lives? How did Flick even know Jay? Or about Jay and me?

  When I asked Holman that, he shrugged. “Flick seems to know a lot about a lot of things.”

  “Well,” I said, brushing it off. “So what if he did. I’m sure he would have done that for anyone.”

  “I don’t know, Riley,” Holman said. “I have a feeling there is more to Flick’s story than we know. I know you swear he gave up on your granddad after his death, but something tells me he hasn’t.”

  My eyes snapped up to Holman’s. “What makes you say that?”

  He shrugged. “Investigative reporter.”

  It was an interesting theory. Flick had shut me down time after time when I’d tried to talk alternatives with him after Granddaddy died, but what if he knew more than he let on? Could he have been involved in some way? When I looked back for Flick, he was gone. I didn’t know if he’d gone inside the church or simply disappeared, but once again, Hal Flick had fled the scene.

  Holman didn’t seem to have noticed. “Are you ready?” he asked, looking through the doors to the crowded church.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “You’ll do her proud, Obit Girl.” Then in a very uncharacteristic gesture, he moved to put his long, spidery arms around my shoulders.

  Not exactly sure what was happening, I asked, “Are you trying to hug me?”

  “Y
es. I’m comforting you during this difficult time.”

  Oh. It felt like being embraced by a weeping willow. I relaxed into the strange embrace and allowed him to provide me with comfort during this difficult time. For about three seconds. “Okay. I think we’re done here.”

  Holman stepped back and smiled. “Think about my offer, okay?”

  I nodded, and he turned to walk inside.

  My parents waited for me at the side of the massive arched door. I took a deep breath. Then another. And then another. I could do this. I would do this. I needed to do this. I took the note cards out of my pocket and looked them over once last time. When I sat down to write after learning the truth of what happened, the words had come easily, and I already knew them by heart. I was honored when her parents asked me to read them during the service.

  Just before I walked inside, I saw Ryan walking up with his parents, who both hugged me before going into the church.

  “How are you really?” he asked once they’d gone.

  “Okay, really.” My face was starting to heal, and I’d been able to stop taking the pain medicine days ago. My ribs were still sore to the touch, but that was the worst of it. I considered myself lucky.

  Ryan looked handsome in his dark slacks and pressed white shirt with French cuffs, the cuts on his face making him look more rugged and masculine. His sandy blond hair was neatly in place, and although he was wearing Ray-Bans, I could imagine his baby blues behind them, the same color as the sky.

  We’d talked several times in the past few days, our near-death experience drawing us closer together in some ways and further apart in others. Either way, it had changed us both. Ryan seemed older now, more mature. It was like he had a new air of purpose. I really believed he was going to put all his energy into being a good father to his unborn child and stop acting like a victim of circumstance. And I was proud of him for the first time in a long time.

  “Listen,” he began, “I wanted you to know that Ridley is moving to town next week.”

  “Oh,” I said, not sure how to react. It was going to be really weird to have Ryan’s baby mama living down the street. There’d be no avoiding her in a town this size. I guess I’d just have to find a way to coexist.

  He paused. “We’re still not together-together, you know.” He took off his sunglasses, and I could see a dim glimmer of hope in his eyes, the right one still purplish-yellow underneath.

  But for me, there was no hope for a future with Ryan—at least not romantically. A part of me would always love him, but there was too much water under our bridge to go back to how we were.

  “You never know, maybe things will change for you guys.” I said. “Remember what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men?”

  “God, I hated that book!” Ryan said, laughing. “In fact, if I remember right, I think I sweet-talked you into writing my essay on it in Mrs. Adler’s class.” A mischievous, hand-in-the-cookie-jar grin slid across his face.

  “That sounds about right.”

  We stood there as friends on the lawn of the church where, for most of my life, I believed we would be married one day. The best laid plans, indeed.

  “I love you, Riles.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Then he hugged me, and in sharp contrast to Holman’s twiggy feeling, Ryan’s hug felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket. His arms would always feel safe to me, but for the first time since Granddaddy died, I was starting to believe that maybe I wanted more out of life than just safety.

  Before I walked inside, I pulled out my phone and texted Holman: I’m in.

  Dear Ms. Ellison:

  I am so sorry to report that Ajay257 has deactivated his account on Click.com. I suppose that means that two of you did not “click,” as I had hoped you would. But please don’t lose faith. As Celine says, your heart will go on and on. #sadsongssaysomuch

  Speaking of sad songs, I’d like to make you aware of a special playlist that Click.com has available on iTunes for just this sort of occasion! For a one-time cost of $13.99, you can download our exclusive Heartbreak Harmonies playlist, which is like having the best of the best singing directly into your soul: Celine, Adele, Gloria Gaynor, Lady Antebellum, Sinead O’Connor, Alanis Morissette, and Eminem feat. Rhianna, to name just a few. The songs are ordered from sad to fierce, so that by the end of the soundtrack, you will feel empowered and ready to get right back onto that horse! #youwillsurvive

  I realize that you may not be quite ready to move on (especially since you haven’t yet listened to our Heartbreak Harmonies), but I did want to make you aware that another Click.com member has recently asked to place an arrow in your quiver! JayFed is an avid reader who likes to spend his free time hanging out in libraries. He is a dog lover, especially German shepherds, and says his ideal date would consist of themed cocktails—not beer—long walks in the park, honest conversations, and passionate kisses.

  If you’d like to accept JayFed’s offer, please let me know. Although, I hope you don’t mind me saying that JayFed sounds a little too specific in his tastes, which could make him difficult. And (I’ll just say it) it sounds like he might be unemployed. Libraries? Parks? Conversations? Hmmm. That is all well and good, but a girl can’t live on passionate kisses alone! #justsaying

  I would understand if you’d rather pass this one up and purchase Heartbreak Harmonies instead. Either way, please know that I have full confidence you will land on your feet and find love! #carpediem #thatmeansseizetheday

  Best,

  Regina H, Personal Romance Concierge, Click.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First, to my superstar agents, Emma Sweeney and Margaret Sutherland Brown. Thank you for your enthusiasm, hard work, and patience. I could not imagine having a better team behind me. A special shout-out to Margaret for all the extra hand-holding. I owe you a vat of Nutella.

  To Colleen Dunn Bates at Prospect Park Books. Thank you for believing in this book and in me, for your sharp editorial eye, and your patience with my mega-emails. Please know I’m working on brevity (not here, of course). Thanks to Susan Olinsky for the gorgeous cover design, and to Nancy Nimoy for the brilliant illustration of Riley. And thanks to Caitlin Ek, Dorie Bailey, Margery L. Schwartz, Amy Inouye, and everyone else at Prospect Park Books who has worked behind the scenes to launch this book. PPB may be small, but it is mighty, and I am so very proud to be among its ranks.

  Thank you to my mother, F.E. Nortman, for a lifetime of unconditional love, support, and hugs. And to Jack Nortman for taking such good care of her. To my father, Neal Rosenfeld, for giving me his love of words and showing me what true dedication looks like. (I hope I made it look easy.) A million thanks to Scott and Cheryl Orr, for being my second set of parents and never once saying no when we asked you to babysit.

  To my writing beasties, Ann Breidenbach, Nina Mukerjee Furstenau, Jennifer Gravley, Laura McHugh, and Allison Smythe. You guys make writing—and everything else—fun.

  To my Highland Park buddy and mentor, Steve Weinberg. Thank you for your support and faith in my writing. You are a true writer’s writer.

  To all the friends who have listened to me talk about this dream for so long, and have been there through so much with me these past few years: Shoshana Buchholz Miller, Stacia Coughenour, Beth Dunafon, Heather Flanagan, Karen Grossmann, Shauna Henson, Melinda Jenne, Chrissy Meyer, Julie McDermott, Jennifer Montgomery, Tia Odom, Lindsey Rowe, Julie Ryan, Nicky Scheidt, Amy Sprouse, and Kaisa Wallis. I love you, ladies!

  And now for a tale of three sisters:

  To my sister-in-crime, Laura McHugh, you have been both mentor and friend, cheerleader and therapist, coach and cupcake-eating buddy. I could not have done this without you.

  To my sister-in-law, Dawn Orr, for your steadfast and loyal support, the way you make everything fun, and your general awesomeness.

  And to my sister with whom I actually share DNA, Allison Fiutak, you are my lifelong role model and very best friend. Thank you for always being there.r />
  To my children, Fletcher and Elliette, I want you to know that you are not just mentioned here because you’re my kids and I love you, though you are and I do. But you were both genuinely helpful in the writing process. Not only do you have great ideas, but you are generous with them. Thank you for being the best cheerleaders. You have my whole heart, and I am so proud to be your mom.

  And to Jimmy again, because your sublime Jimmyness deserves mentioning more than once. If I could fill ten books with acknowledgments of how much you mean to me, I would. #iloveumore #iwinbecauseitsinabook

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jill Orr writes a parenting column for COMO Living in Columbia, Missouri, where she lives with her husband and two children. The Good Byline is her first novel.