by Amy Harmon
“Not so good,” she admitted.
The couple exchanged glances, and Paul said, “Coming from you, that’s got to mean a total disaster.”
Paul motioned for Breezy to take a seat. The living room, fireplace along the far wall, comfy chocolate brown leather couch across from two cushioned wicker chairs, coffee table in the middle, invited cozy gatherings.
The Nelsons settled on the couch and Breezy took a chair.
“Tell us about it, Honey,” Jill said.
So Breezy did. Everything that had happened since Paul left. The lowering of morale, in general. Her being demoted, as well as Fiona. Even taking soup to a sick Noah. “But I brought the dessert over to you, despite what my mother said.”
Paul laughed. “I’ll never tell her. Your mother is far more saintly than I am.”
Jill rose and headed toward the kitchen. “I’m going to get some milk for us to drink with these cookies.”
Breezy looked at Paul. “I’d like to arrange a retirement party, if that’s all right with you.”
A half smile tickled his lips. “I’d like that very much. Be sure and invite your father, too.”
“I dare you to keep him away. Or the Quinns, either.” The Quinns were the family who used to own the station.
“That’s really kind of you, Breezy. Thanks.”
“You and my dad were my heroes growing up. I wanted to be just like you both. Be on TV and report and have people watch and listen to what I have to say.”
“And you’ve done it.” He chuckled unhappily. “Well, you did, until your demotion.”
“Exactly. These changes are not as good as I was hoping they’d be.”
“I’ve been thinking, it may be a good time for you to look for another station, Breezy. You could get a job almost anywhere.”
“But I don’t want to move away from Aspen Grove.”
Jill returned, carefully setting down a colorful tray holding three glasses of milk. Breezy took one gratefully. “Thanks.”
Paul sipped his. “I was just telling Breezy she ought to do what we’re doing.”
Breezy looked at him in surprise. “You’re moving out of Aspen Grove? To another station?”
Jill sat down beside her husband and glanced at him, as if to encourage him to speak.
“We’re thinking it’s time for me to work on some of my other interests,” he said. “Last year, I started writing a book on how to be a newscaster. Now I’ll actually have the time to finish it.”
Relieved, Breezy said, “Oh, good. You’ll still live here, then.”
“We’re considering a move to Sacramento just to be closer to the grandkids. But that’s less than an hour away. If we move, you would always have a place to stay. That’s why I was suggesting you send out resumes. I heard the Sacramento station may be in need of a meteorologist soon. You could stay with us until you get your feet on the ground.”
The thought overwhelmed her. Things were spinning out of control, way too fast. “This is really sudden.”
Jill nodded. “Tell us about it.”
Breezy laughed. “Oh, yeah. I guess you know all about sudden changes. But could it really come to this? Me needing another job?”
Paul nodded. “You’ve already been downgraded. And I can guarantee you don’t want to work for Pamela Gladstone.”
She didn’t? More bad news? “What’s wrong with Pamela Gladstone?”
“She’s called Hurricane Pamela because she leaves so much damage in her wake.”
Breezy tried to smile but it probably came out more of a grimace as she said, “That bad, huh?”
Paul nodded. “Get out while the getting’s still good. Get a letter of recommendation from Mr. Quinn and the new general manager.”
“Drake the Snake?”
He snorted with laughter. “Exactly.”
Jill started laughing and couldn’t seem to stop. They both looked at her, but she could only wave her hand, laughing even harder.
“Want to let us in on the joke, woman?” Paul said, smiling at his wife fondly.
“Sorry. It’s not funny. Just me getting semi-hysterical over the whole situation,” she managed to get out. “I’m just surprised that in just a few days the world has totally changed on us. We’re talking about moving and Breezy won’t be on the weather any more.” She sobered and sucked in a shuddering breath.
Paul studied Breezy. “You would be an asset to any station. Think on it.”
“I will,” Breezy said. Unfortunately, she was afraid that now it would all she could think about.
* * *
Monday, April 15
Lucky for Noah, the soup—and some cold medication—had worked miracles. By Monday, he was back at work and only a bit tired by mid afternoon. He was looking forward to getting home and crashing early, though.
It was tax day, April 15th, and Noah was very glad he’d gotten his done a month earlier.
Breezy, who stood in his office dressed in a demure schoolgirl-modest blouse and suit, didn’t look too delighted to see him, though, and she didn’t sound at all pleased at his newest request. He really needed her to agree to this.
“So let’s see if I understand this correctly,” Breezy said. “Pamela Gladstone will be here in two days. You’ve already asked me to step aside and let her go into the studio in my place and film my weather segments, and now you expect me to do the actual work of forecasting for her? Did I get that straight?”
She said it sweetly enough, but Noah sensed something underneath the words and sweet tone. Something totally understandable, of course, given the circumstances. “I admit Pamela doesn’t have the academic training you do. That’s why I need you to make sure she sounds good. And accurate.”
“So I’m going to make the new weathercaster sound good.”
“Exactly. Thank you for being so cooperative.” He enjoyed talking with her. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but she made him smile, at some deep level.
“Oh, I am definitely cooperative. A real team player. Rah, rah, rah, KWAC, and all that jazz.”
She certainly seemed cooperative enough on the surface. And it was a nice surface, too. Petite, but shapely, even though hidden behind her demure suit. Not that he was looking because she definitely was not his type. He didn’t go for women who looked that young.
But there was something in her gaze that promised more. And it actually shook him up. He looked away, feeling like he’d just gotten sent to the principal’s office. But he was the boss, and he wasn’t going to let her get to him, so he looked back up and met her gaze.
“Is there anything else I can do for you? Or for Ms. Gladstone?” she asked oh-so-sweetly. But her eyes locked on his again.
He forced himself to ignore the challenge. He’d taken her job away, after all. He pretended to be dense enough to take her words at surface value. “Just be nice to her. Welcome her to the station. That sort of thing.”
“I wouldn’t be anything but nice to the new weathercaster.”
“I know she doesn’t have your credentials,” Noah repeated, “but she does have screen presence.”
“Ah, screen presence. As opposed to, say, chopped liver presence.”
“I am not saying that you don’t have screen presence.”
“You aren’t?” She looked so innocent, he could almost believe she wasn’t doing what he was pretty sure she was doing.
“No, I’m not. You just have a different screen presence. We’re looking for a little more—”
“Cleavage?”
“Exactly. Wait, no. No. No cleavage.”
“I saw a few of her broadcasts online. They got put on YouTube because guys liked her scantily clad state. That’s the only way I can explain the popularity.”
“It’s true. Guys do like that. Maybe just a few buttons undone.”
“Oh, guys like undone buttons, do they?” She reached up to the top of her demure white blouse and undid the top button.
His eyes widened and he swallowed. What was she d
oing?
“How many buttons would I have to undo to gain this coveted screen presence?” She undid a second one.
His mouth went dry as he shook his head and motioned with his hands to stop her. “You don’t need to do this, Ms. Jones.”
“Breezy. Please.”
“Breezy. Really. Stop. Please.”
“I’ll do anything to keep this job.” Her voice lowered huskily.
He froze in place. What? What had she just said?
She undid a third button, which took her blouse down to where it still didn’t reveal anything, but the next one would begin to make a difference in the view.
He stared at her. He had definitely not expected this. “Five buttons, if you must have a number. And if you undo even one more of yours, you are fired.”
She smiled and started buttoning back up. “Yes, sir, Mr. Drake.”
“Noah.”
Her smile broadened. “I will be delighted to continue to create my award-winning forecasts and pass them on to the new weathercaster, Ms. Pamela Gladstone of five undone buttons.”
He tried to speak and had to clear his throat before words would come out. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
“You are so very welcome. Anything else I can do for you?”
“No! No. I’m good.”
“I’ll get back to work then.”
As she closed the door behind her, Noah sank down into his chair.
What in the world had just happened?
Breezy had come in with her innocent look and unleased some kind of unexpected all-grown-up sensual power.
Where on earth had Pollyanna learned that?
* * *
Breezy almost laughed as she went back to the Cave. The look on Noah’s face had been priceless. She had actually scared him. Not that she would have actually undone five buttons for him. But it was nice, for a change, to surprise the man who thought she wasn’t glamorous enough. It was small salve to her ego that had been hurt by being replaced by someone like Pamela Gladstone.
She almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Chapter Six
It’s so cold that folks are going to church just to hear about the fires of hell. —Black Dog on http://www.shannondale.org
Wednesday, April 17
“Warning. I predict stormy weather.” Chad lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “I just heard that Hurricane Pamela has touched down and is headed your direction.”
Standing just outside the Cave looking over some of Fiona’s graphics, Breezy lightly elbowed him. “She’s not going to be that bad. No one is that bad.”
“You hope.” Chad adjusted his fedora. “Good luck, Breezy. I’m really sorry they’ve put you in this position. If you need me for anything, you know where I sleep. Right at my desk.”
“Thanks, Chad.” He was going to get an extra nice Christmas gift from her this year for all his support.
“The only thing I can’t do is get rid of Pamela for you. Wish I could.” He winked. “Got to run. I’m afraid of hurricanes.”
As Breezy entered the Cave, she met Fiona’s eyes.
Today’s tie-dyed shirt had a purple theme, matched by her large, dangling purple bead earrings. Fiona sighed. “I’m afraid, too.”
“I’m more than a little nervous, myself,” Breezy admitted. Taking her seat at her computer to prepare the forecast, she could feel her heart rate increase. Pamela Gladstone was finally here and, according to both Paul and Chad, that meant it was time to batten down the hatches. Breezy drew in a deep breath and tried to summon up her usual cheerful mood. All she was able to pull up was a fake-it-til-you-make-it comment aimed at Fiona. “We can do this. How bad can she be, anyway?”
Fiona sighed again, dramatically. “I fear the worst.”
That made Breezy chuckle. “You know I love you, Fiona.”
“I know. And if we survive this storm, we’re going to Hawaii. Next spring.”
“If we survive, I’ll be there.” Breezy forced her attention back to her forecasts and tried not to dislike Pamela Gladstone simply for taking her job. She was going to give the woman a fair chance. Besides, she could get along with pretty much anyone. So this was going to be fine. Not ideal, of course—ideal would mean she was back in the studio—but okay. For now.
From the lobby, tinkling laughter filled the air, and Breezy glanced up to see that Gabe was the lucky man assigned to give Pamela the official tour. From that one glance alone, Breezy figured Noah had grossly underestimated her attractions. Pamela looked more like a seven-buttons-undone type of gal to her. Full red lips, long red fingernails, and red toenails peeking out from four-inch spiked red sandals. Skirt up to here and blouse down to there. Teased, shoulder-length blonde hair framed a beautiful face with a hard edge Breezy could see from where she sat.
Seeing her in person made Breezy feel very inadequate, but she would not resent Pamela Gladstone just because she’d flirted her way into Breezy’s job.
Gabe led Pamela up the aisle, away from the Cave. Good. By the time they looped back around, Breezy would have time to regain her composure.
Turning back to her monitor, she tried to lose herself in air patterns and cold fronts, all the delicious parts of weather that she loved, but it wasn’t working today. Breezy was painfully conscious of their progress around the newsroom.
When she heard their voices growing nearer, Breezy felt herself tense up.
Fiona whispered, “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” she whispered back.
And, then, it was their turn to meet the new weather screen presence. Breezy stood just inside the Cave opening, and Fiona joined her.
Gabe smiled warmly, but touched his soul patch nervously. “Pamela, this is your talented weather producer, Breanne Jones, known around here as Breezy, and Fiona Hughes, who is a wizard at graphics. Ladies, this is Pamela Gladstone, the new addition to the weather team.”
Gabe seemed more than a little awkward introducing Breezy to her replacement.
Pamela showed no such awkwardness. She nodded briskly. “Good to meet you. I understand you’ll be preparing my forecasts.”
Was it Breezy’s imagination, or was there a not-so-nice glint in the woman’s eyes? She forced a smile. “That’s right.”
“That’s great. Hey, would you bring me a coffee? And be sure not to bring me decaf. I need a jolt of caffeine, Babe.”
Babe? Pamela was staring right at Breezy, so there was no question that she was talking to her. It just took a second for the words to make it past that babe.
Breezy glanced at Gabe, who looked uncomfortable. Fiona coughed and turned back to her monitor.
“I’d love to,” Breezy lied. “Part of the job description. Forecast accurate weather and fetch coffee.”
Without further comment, Pamela turned back to Gabe, who was looking more uncomfortable by the minute.
As Breezy walked to the break room, she thought that perhaps she might end up resenting Pamela, after all—because of her abrasive personality. By the time Breezy returned with a mug of steaming caffeine-rich coffee, she had her own personal storm front brewing. And seeing the admiring crowd of editing guys gathered around Pamela didn’t improve her mood.
Yup, Noah was right. Guys definitely liked the scantily clad and unbuttoned look. And Breezy was pretty sure cleavage had a great deal to do with that.
Breezy held out the cup of very hot coffee to the new weathercaster. Burn, Baby, burn.
Pamela flicked a glance at her and motioned for her to set it on the counter. “Thanks, Babe.”
Two of the five guys looked at Breezy in surprise, the other three apparently unable to pull their gaze off that seven-button gap. Breezy smiled at the two who did look up and raised her eyebrows as she set the mug down, as directed. One of the guys frowned, locked gazes with Breezy, patted her arm, and told the crowd, “I’ve got to get back to work.” He nodded at Breezy in silent support.
She nodded back. “Thanks.”
He
shot a disapproving glance back at Pamela, shook his head, and headed back to his work space.
This lovely man was also going to receive an extra nice gift at Christmas. Maybe even earlier.
She turned back just in time to have Pamela glance her way and say, “Now go do the forecast. I want to look good going out there for my debut today. Make sure it’s accurate.”
“Accurate. Right.” Gee, why hadn’t she thought of that? This witch put new meaning into the phrase blown away. Breezy’s smile set on permafrost, she said, “I’ll get to work on that right away.”
“You do that. And go ask Noah to set up an appointment for me. I want to talk to him in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll arrange that, Pamela.” Gabe glanced at Breezy and looked like he really regretted this whole thing. Which she knew he did because she’d overheard him defending her. Extra nice gift for him, too. “In fact, why don’t I take you up there right now? Noah wanted to speak with you after the tour.”
As he led her back toward the elevators, Breezy found her normal cheerful attitude slipping badly. Hurricane Pamela would no doubt receive coal in her stocking. Breezy let out a ragged breath.
So this was going to be her work life from now on. Glorified assistant to Hurricane Pamela. Breezy could see the writing on the cumulonimbus clouds: She was going to be the damage left in Pamela’s wake.
Paul was right. It was going to be hell working for this woman. Nothing like when she’d been in this position before as an aspiring meteorologist. Maybe Paul was also right about sending out a few resumes.
But she wasn’t quite ready to do that yet. She didn’t want to work for Pamela, but did she really have a choice? She had bills and family traditions to uphold.
She could continue to hope that Pamela would get tired of working at a smaller station and move on to bigger and better things. Soon. Because that was the only way Breezy could escape the hell she could easily see from where she sat. Even if she didn’t get her old job back, at least she’d have a chance of working for someone decent.
