“See you in a couple of weeks,” Eleanor said, then hung up the phone and turned to Jake. “Common courtesy says you don’t listen in on other people’s conversations.”
Jake shrugged. “There are no secrets in a newsroom. Even I know that.”
Eleanor pointed to the green metal desks scattered about the room outside her office. “There’s no privacy out there. This is my office. There is privacy in here. And if we’re going to get along, you’d better understand that.”
Jake reached across her desk and picked up her copy of the Times. “I’ll try.”
“You’d be wise to do better than try. I’m not afraid of you, Jake Mason. Or of your high-powered father and his Mason Publishing.”
Jake lowered the paper so he could see her. He would have grinned but she was so wound up, he didn’t think she’d appreciate it. “What are you so bent out of shape about? Ease up some, Eleanor. We’re going to be cramped in this office for a long time. Let’s try to be friends.”
“Friends?” Eleanor said the word as if it were a curse. “You must be joking. We can’t be friends. You’re the worst kind of enemy.”
Before Jake could respond, a wiry, copper-complexioned brother in gray dress slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a black tie stuck his head in the office door. “Eleanor, they want you down in advertising. Seems there’s some problem with the ads for today’s edition.”
Eleanor jumped out of her chair and rushed past the man and in the direction of the advertising manager’s office. Jake watched her strut off, and as he did, he wondered why she was so upright.
“Don’t let her get to you,” the man said. “She’s all right. You’ll get used to her.”
“And how long will that take?”
The man smiled. “A while.” He extended his hand. “I’m Carl Winters. You must be Jake Mason.”
Jake shook the hand. “Nice to meet you, Carl.”
“Has Eleanor introduced you to everybody yet?”
Jake shook his head. “We went on a tour, but not many people were around when we started.”
“Come on, then, I’ll do it. And maybe even get you a cup of coffee.”
Jake got up and clapped Carl on the back. “I’m glad I met you, Carl. Eleanor had me wondering if that Southern hospitality I’d heard so much about was a myth.”
***
Eleanor was grateful when the waitress removed their lunch dishes. She was ready to leave this restaurant and Jake’s company. And her father’s. The man was completely taken in by the smooth-talking Jake. It was so unlike her father.
“It sure is hot here,” Jake said. By his tone, you’d think he’d made some brilliant discovery.
Her father pushed back from the table. “Why don’t you and Eleanor go for a swim? She goes at lunch most days.” Mathias winked at Jake when Eleanor gasped. “She didn’t know I knew.”
“It’s not like I was trying to hide something from you,” Eleanor countered. “There has been no reason to discuss it.”
“That’s not important now, Eleanor,” her father said in dismissal with a wave of his hand. “Why don’t you take Jake here and the two of you hit the pool for a while?”
“Maybe another day. I usually swim instead of lunch, not after.” She glanced at Jake. “I’m sure Jake doesn’t want to go swimming on a full stomach.”
Jake didn’t give her father time to respond. “She’s right, Mathias. We should’ve gone before lunch or instead of it. But it’s a good idea. Maybe we’ll do it tomorrow.”
Yeah, right, Eleanor thought. And tomorrow Hell will freeze over. “Maybe.”
“Good, good,” Mathias said. “Now how did things go this morning?”
Eleanor listened while Jake told of her tour and the introductions made by Carl. She waited for him to comment on her lack of courtesy, but he didn’t and she wondered why. As if he’d read her thoughts, Jake turned to her and smiled.
Heaven help her, that smile made her insides quiver. The man was a practiced flirt. He wasn’t her type at all. And heaven knows, she wasn’t his. She’d have to keep her traitorous emotions in check. She was not going to be one of Jake Mason’s small-town conquests. Megan could have him.
“Mathias Sanders, there you are.”
It was Mrs. Thompson. The elderly woman cornered her father at every opportunity trying to get free publicity for one of her projects or another.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Thompson,” her father said, standing up and reaching for the older woman’s age-spotted hand. “It’s good to see you. Won’t you join us?”
Eleanor hoped Mrs. Thompson had other plans. Lunching with her and Jake would be more than she could stomach.
“No, no,” the gray-haired woman said. “I’m meeting my bridge club. I stopped to tell you how much we appreciated the story you ran on our Bridge Club Tournament. Those were some good pictures, too. Too bad you didn’t get any of me.”
Eleanor picked up her napkin to hide her smile. Mrs. Thompson never changed. She glanced at Jake and saw he didn’t bother to hide his smile.
“Well, you know we couldn’t run photos of everyone. We do our best.” Her father gave her his biggest smile. Goodness, he was as bad as Jake. “Have you met my new partner, Jake Mason?”
“Your new partner,” Mrs. Thompson said. “I thought this might be Eleanor’s beau.” She extended her hand to Jake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mason. Welcome to Lamar.”
Jake stood up. “Thank you, Mrs. Thompson. It’s a pleasure meeting you.” His hundred-watt smile flashed and Mrs. Thompson blushed. A sixty-plus-year old woman blushed. Eleanor wanted to kick Jake.
“Are you married, Mr. Mason?” Mrs. Thompson asked. Eleanor could have kicked Mrs. Thompson then.
Jake smiled. “Not yet. But then they don’t have Southern belles like yourself where I’m from.”
Eleanor watched as Mrs. Thompson batted her eyelids. Goodness, the older woman was flirting with Jake.
“Eleanor, dear,” she said, addressing her for the first time, “this is a good one. You’d better keep an eye on him.”
Jake smiled again and Eleanor wished she had the nerve to slap that smile off his face. Thank goodness Mrs. Thompson floated over to her friends at a distant table before Eleanor could make a comment. Jake’s laughter brought her attention to him.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Small towns,” Jake answered with a huge, mocking grin on his face. “I think I’m going to like it here.”
Eleanor knew he was having fun at her expense, but her father spoke before she could put him in his place.
“We like to think our town has a certain charm.” He cut a glance at Eleanor. “How’s the party planning going? We want Jake to meet the people of Lamar. Have you spoken to Megan about helping you plan it?”
No, she hadn’t, and she was hoping her father would forget it. No such luck. “Megan’s out of town. She won’t be back for a couple of weeks.”
“Well, damn. Where did she go and why did she have to go now?”
Eleanor glanced at Jake. “She had some personal business to take care of.”
Mathias turned to Jake. “I guess this means we’ll have to put off your party until she gets back. You don’t mind, do you, son?”
“Not at all, Mathias. Eleanor is doing a great job of making me feel welcome.”
“I’ll bet,” Mathias muttered.
Jake laughed. “Like I said before. She’s the bratty little sister I never had.”
Eleanor stood up, slapping her napkin on the table. “Since the two of you seem to like talking about me as if I’m not present, I’ll leave and you can continue.” She grabbed her purse from the back of the chair. “Besides, some of us have work to do.”
Before Eleanor reached the door, she knew she had behaved badly. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting this way? It didn’t take her long to figure out why.
Jake Mason.
Four
&
nbsp; Eleanor wasn’t surprised when her father entered her office, shut the door, and closed the blinds. She wondered where Jake was.
“What’s wrong with you, Eleanor? Why are you so rude to Jake? And to me, for that matter?”
Eleanor placed the layout she was studying on her desk. “You don’t have to say it. I know I’ve been out of line.”
“That’s an understatement,” he said. The “young lady” at the end of the sentence sounded as loud as if he’d spoken the words.
“Why are you doing this, Dad? Why are you giving them control of our paper?”
Mathias released a heavy sigh before he sat in the chair at Jake’s desk. “We’ve been over this before, Eleanor.” He searched her face before continuing. “Randolph and I have talked about going into business together off and on over the years.”
Eleanor leaned forward in her chair. She didn’t like what she was hearing. “But why this, Dad?” she asked, her lips tight.
“Don’t use that tone with me, young lady,” he said in the inflection he’d used long ago, when she’d complained about wanting to stay up beyond her bedtime. “This is still my newspaper and don’t you forget it.”
Eleanor wanted to roll her eyes at her father’s oft-used phrase, but she knew if she did, she’d get a lecture and her schedule for the afternoon would be shot. “I’m sorry, Dad, but I don’t see why you want to merge the Lamar Daily with Mason Publishing.”
Mathias stood up, put his hands in his pockets, and faced the window to the newsroom. Eleanor stood to her full height of five- four and pulled on her father’s arm to turn him around. She hated having to look up to him. It was one of the things that helped keep her a child in his eyes. “Dad?”
“It’ll be good for us, Eleanor. Think what it would mean if we were a part of Mason Publishing. Some of the changes you want to see around here could actually happen with the Mason Publishing money behind us. It’s a great opportunity.”
Eleanor knew he was right. It was a great opportunity. In fact, too great. “What do they get out of it?”
“What?”
“Mason Publishing? What do they get out of the deal? I see what we get, but what do they get?”
Alarm flashed in Mathias’s eyes and he looked away again. “You know Randolph and I have been friends for years. He understands he won’t get as much out of the deal as I will, but he thinks there’s money to be made with the Lamar Daily.”
Eleanor wasn’t so sure. The Lamar Daily hadn’t made much money over the years. Maybe with some changes they could do better, but she didn’t think they’d ever become rich. No, that kind of potential was not in their newspaper. The Lamar Daily was a good small-town paper, but that’s all it was. “Randolph Mason didn’t get rich buying small-town papers, Dad. And something tells me an astute businessman like him knows how to keep business and personal matters separate. There must be something in this deal for him.”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Eleanor,” Mathias warned, looking at her again. “You’re getting what you wanted. You should be happy.”
Eleanor knew there was no discussing this with her father. In his eyes, Randolph Mason could do no wrong. “I don’t want this merger to happen, Dad. What if Mason Publishing starts telling us how to do our business? We’ve always counted ourselves lucky that we didn’t have to cut through a lot of corporate red tape. Why do you want to subject us to it now?”
“This is another corporation. This is Mason Publishing. And Randolph Mason is my best friend. You worry too much.”
She didn’t think so, but there was no use telling him that now. “If he’s not planning to make any changes in our business, what’s Jake doing here?”
Mathias shook his head. “It’s still a business deal, Eleanor. Randolph thinks this paper is the place for Jake to get involved in the business.”
“But why now? Why us?”
“That was Randolph’s call. Jake’s overseeing this deal. He’s here and you have to work with him in addition to sharing office space with him.” She would have interrupted, but Mathias continued. “I know you don’t like his sharing your office, but we don’t have much space. And since he’ll be working mostly with the two of us, it was either have him share your office or have him share mine.” He smiled. “And since I’m the boss around here, you got the office mate.”
“I still don’t like it, Dad,” she said, meaning more than sharing her office.
Mathias touched his daughter’s cheek. “I know you don’t, sweetheart, but you have to deal with it. You can work with Jake and me or you can work against us. Either way, this deal with Randolph is going through.”
Jake chose that moment to make his appearance and Mathias dropped his hand from Eleanor’s face. He gave her a final pleading look, then said, “I have an afternoon meeting with the mayor. I’ll see you two tonight.”
Jake watched Mathias leave and he knew instinctively words had passed between father and daughter. From the uneasy look in Eleanor’s eyes, he guessed the conversation had not been a pleasant one. For some reason Jake couldn’t name, he wanted to comfort her.
“So, what are we doing this afternoon?” he asked.
“About lunch—” she began slowly.
“Yes,” he interrupted, “I enjoyed that tasty Southern cuisine.” He hoped she understood why he couldn’t let her finish. He didn’t want her to apologize. He felt an apology would somehow take away from the tenuous and strange relationship they were forming. In fact, Jake enjoyed sparring with Eleanor. It thrilled him to see her all riled up. It was more than obvious she didn’t want him in Lamar. And she had no intention of allowing him to make any changes in the way they ran the newspaper. But that didn’t matter. Somehow he knew the two of them would work through their differences.
Eleanor stared at him a few seconds. “This afternoon we lay out tomorrow’s paper and edit the editorials and columns.”
Jake knew she didn’t understand why he didn’t want her apology but he was glad she accepted his gesture. He grinned. “Where do we start?”
***
At ten o’clock the next morning, Eleanor dropped down in her office chair, kicked off her low-heeled black pumps, and propped her stocking-clad feet on her desk, wishing it was time for her lunchtime swim. It had been a heck of a morning. Columnists. She couldn’t live with ’em and she couldn’t live without ’em. She’d spent the better part of the morning arguing with Tempest Tanner, their most temperamental and most popular columnist, about her treatment, or rather, mistreatment, of the recent demise of one of Lamar’s oldest residents. Eleanor shook her head. For some reason columnists couldn’t comprehend slander and libel. Maybe it’s because the newspaper would be liable and not the individual columnist.
Eleanor crossed her legs at the ankles, leaned back in her chair, and attempted to run her hand through her hair. The barrette that kept her black hair in a bun on top of her head stopped her fingers and she had to settle for rubbing her hand across her head. Some days she wished she could wear her hair down, but she knew wearing it up made her look more mature, more professional.
Eleanor lifted her wrist and checked the time on the Spelman watch she’d bought at the last class reunion. Two hours. Two hours and she could escape for a refreshing dip in her father’s pool. Nothing relaxed her like a swim. She’d been on the swim team in high school and college. She’d been told she could have been a competitive swimmer, but she enjoyed swimming too much for that. If she allowed it to become a job, what would she do for relaxation?
If she was lucky, she could go to the pool without Jake as she’d managed to do yesterday after work. He’d spent this morning with her father and she hoped their meetings would keep them occupied through lunch and her swim.
“Call for Eleanor from Horace,” came Maxine’s voice on the intercom.
Eleanor made a mental note to speak with Maxine again about the intercom, then picked up the phone.
“Oh, no,” she
said when she learned Horace Page was in the hospital with a broken hip. “Don’t hesitate to call us if you need anything, Mrs. Page. My father and I will visit Horace today.” After a few more exchanges Eleanor hung up the phone. “What am I going to do?” she asked herself.
“About what?” was Jake’s response.
So he was back. “Horace Page is in the hospital.”
Jake sat on the corner of his desk. “Horace? That’s the sports reporter, right?”
Eleanor nodded. “And the sports editor is in Alaska on a four- week vacation. Who’s going to cover sports while they’re out?”
“There has to be somebody. You’ve got about twelve people on the news staff.”
“Everybody’s busy. We don’t have anybody.”
“Get a freelancer,” Jake suggested.
“This isn’t New York, Jake. The closest thing we can get to a freelancer is a sports reporter from the high school.”
“Do that. How hard can the job be anyway? Even I’ve heard the old newspaper saying, Sports is entertainment; not brain surgery.”
She leaned a finger against her cheek and considered his words. “You’ve heard that, have you?”
Jake flashed his trademark grin. “Publishing’s in my blood.”
“It is, is it?” Eleanor said, an idea forming in her mind.
“Of course. Just like it’s in yours.”
Eleanor snapped her fingers. “You’re right. And I’ve thought of the perfect solution.”
“See, I knew you could do it. Are you going to go with one of the high school kids?”
Eleanor shook her head. “Actually I was thinking of someone a bit more mature.”
“Who?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Didn’t you say a high school kid could do it? Well, if publishing is in your blood, you can do it, too.”
Jake stood. “Me? A sports reporter?”
Eleanor scooted around to her desk. “Don’t sound so surprised, Jake. I know you can do it. After all, everybody knows sports is entertainment, not brain surgery.”
Between the Lines Page 4
