by Vivi Holt
“I spoke to the police – he was out on bail and his trial is set to start next week. And he’d been drinking. Anyway, he’s back in jail now.”
“I’m glad he’s locked up. I wouldn’t feel safe otherwise. Do you know who wrote the article? I mean, are we sure they checked facts?” Vicky’s nose wrinkled.
“It was a freelancer and they’ve moved on, so I can’t be sure what they did – but I know Amanda. She’d never publish something that wasn’t adequately fact-checked.”
Vicky glanced at her watch. “Well, I hope that’s the end of it. Let’s get going – we’ll be late for work.”
Molly chuckled. “I think you mean, we won’t have time for a coffee.”
“Yes, well – you know how important caffeine is in my life.”
“And lithe men in Lycra …”
Vicky laughed. “It’s not about the men in Lycra, it’s about the caffeine.”
“So is that why we always have to go to the same café as all the cyclists in the area?”
“It’s got the best coffee!” Vicky insisted.
Molly laughed, then whistled for Daisy, who promptly tore toward her and slammed into her legs, tail whipping around madly. “Oomph! Daisy, seriously – you can slow down before you get here. Are you trying to break my legs?”
Vicky laughed and went through the gate. Molly followed her, with Daisy safely reattached to her leash. They all broke into a run, feet pounding on the pavement through the park.
Molly heard the rat-a-tat of a woodpecker in the distance, along with the hum of vehicles already joining the commute to offices throughout the city. Green grass rose in rolling hills around them and tall oaks threw shade where people sat and read, or lazed with hats over their eyes. She always wondered what those people did with their days. Didn’t everyone have to go to work? She couldn’t imagine having the luxury of falling asleep beneath a tree in the park on a weekday morning.
A spasm in her thigh made her wince. She wished she’d skipped the run that morning – some days she just didn’t have the energy for it. But Daisy needed her exercise, and each morning sat at the apartment door keening and thumping her tail against the floor until Molly complied and fetched her leash. It was good motivation to be active, but today she was tired and dreamed wistfully about resting her head back on her pillow.
They stopped at the Future Artisan Café and Vicky selected an outdoor table. Molly limped after her, Daisy’s leash looped around her wrist. The dog sat obediently beside her, accustomed to the routine after several failed attempts and mishaps involving spilled coffee, angry cyclists and broken coffee mugs. Molly bent to pat Daisy, whose tail thumped slowly against the ground while she licked the side of Molly’s hand, and Vicky skipped off to place their order.
Molly pulled her cell phone from a small zippered pocket on the back of her athletic pants and opened Google Chrome. Every morning she sat with Vicky, sipping coffee and scrolling through breaking news from all the major newspapers, including the Journal-Constitution and the Chron. Then, she’d finish her reading over breakfast back at the apartment. It was part of her routine – she’d tried ignoring current events a couple times when she was on vacation, but it had left her feeling something was missing and very wrong. In the end she’d always caved and at least read through the headlines.
Molly opened the Chronicle’s home page and froze, her mouth falling open.
“What is it?” asked Vicky as she returned with their coffees.
“There’s an article on Chronicle Digital about Amanda’s stabbing!”
“No!”
“Yes! They scooped us on a story about our own editor! I can’t believe this – how did they get the information?”
Vicky sipped her latte and stared at the table.
“What? Why are you being so quiet about this?”
She shrugged. “Didn’t you say Tim came to see you at the hospital?”
Molly’s eyes widened and her heart fell. “Yes. But you don’t think he would’ve …?”
“I don’t know. I think the question is, do you think he’d do something like that? I mean, it’s his family’s newspaper, and he gets a juicy bit of gossip about their competitor. I know if I was him, I’d scoop it like ice cream.”
Molly frowned. “But he must’ve known that would upset me. It was a family matter.”
“Not exactly – we’re running the story this morning ourselves.” Vicky took another sip.
“But it’s our story. So that’s different.”
“Welcome to journalism.”
“Thanks. I’m aware of how the world operates – I’ve been part of it my entire life.”
“No need to snap at me. I’m just saying the things you don’t want to hear. The only way they could’ve found out about Amanda is via the paramedics, police or … Tim.”
Molly slurped her cappuccino, gagging as it singed her tongue. She coughed and set the cup down. “Hot! Hot!” she gasped.
“Yes, the coffee is hot. Sorry.” Vicky’s lips pursed.
Molly sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry – it’s just that I can’t believe Tim would do that. Not when …”
“Not when you’re starting to fall for him.” Vicky grinned. “It’s okay, you can admit it to me. I’m not blind, and I know you better than anyone.”
“I’m not falling for him. But we have developed a friendship, and I trusted him. Friends don’t break trust like that, do they?”
A line of cyclists walked by, their clip-ins tapping the pavement with each step. Vicky’s gaze followed them and she smiled.
“Never mind,” sighed Molly. “I think I just answered my own question.”
Later, at the office, Molly chewed the end of a pencil and read through the final draft of another article she’d written on homelessness in the city center. She frowned, deleted and replaced a few words, then returned to the original wording.
“Working hard, I see.”
Her father’s voice jolted her out of her reverie, and she spun around in her chair to face him with a grin. “Almost done. And you’ll be pleasantly surprised to hear that I’m finished well before the deadline.”
He chuckled. “Wonders never cease.” He pulled up a chair and sat facing her. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
She knew what he was going to say. Her body tensed and she took a quick breath. “Before you say anything, Daddy … I have something I want to ask you about.”
“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow.
“Do you know if Granddad is okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I spoke to him the other day, and he sounded sad. He said some things about Wallace Holden — he seemed sorry about losing the friendship. I don’t know, it made me wonder if he’s feeling well.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed. “As far as I know, he’s fine.”
“Well, that’s good. I still think we should keep an eye on him, though. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“How did the Chron get that story about Amanda’s stabbing before we’d even printed it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they have a contact inside the paramedics’ team, or somebody at Atlanta PD …”
“Or more likely, it was Tim Holden.” His voice was stern, and he crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. “I knew that it’d cause issues, having you dating our rival’s son – I just didn’t know it’d be something so personal.” His voice thickened with emotion and he coughed it away.
Tears filled her eyes. She rubbed them before putting her hands in his. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know it was hard on you, on all of us, to see the story on Amanda done by someone else – without the sensitivity to privacy we maintained in our piece. But it was bound to happen – we’re a newsworthy family, whether we like it or not.”
“I’ve always wanted to be behind the story, not be the story.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “And having Amanda exposed that way – it was just what we were trying to avoid by running the story and kee
ping her name out of it.”
“I know, Dad – I wrote it myself. But we can’t be sure it was Tim.”
“I can.” His nostrils flared. “I knew he was trouble the moment I saw you two in the paper together, and unfortunately I’ve been proven right. I hope now you can see what a bad idea it was to date a Holden.”
Her heart ached and her throat tightened. What should she do? She hadn’t even had a chance to talk to Tim about what had happened. She could’ve called him, but she really wanted to ask him face to face. Yet she couldn’t ignore her father’s pain. Perhaps he was right – it was the same conclusion Vicky had drawn the moment she saw the story. It made sense. Except it didn’t, because Tim wasn’t that kind of man. At least, she hadn’t thought of him that way until now. She inhaled deeply, then shook her head. “Dad …”
“So you’ll end things, then?”
Her eyes widened. “You’re asking me to break up with Tim?”
He nodded. “Of course. You have to put your family and your job before a boyfriend. You’ve only known him a short time – I’m sure you can walk away without causing too much heartache on either side.”
Her stomach tightened into a knot and she frowned. “I can’t break up with him for something with no proof.”
“He’s just a boyfriend!” barked her father.
Molly’s eyes widened and fire sparked through her chest. “No he’s not. He’s my fiancé!”
Tim rolled over in his mussed bed and rubbed his eyes with his fist. His cell phone rang again, shrill and piercing in the quiet, dark room. He groaned and reached for it. “Hello?”
“It’s Molly. Sorry, did I wake you? I figured you’d be at the station.”
He sat and swung his feet to the ground, still wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Uh … no, my schedule is twenty-four hours on, forty-eight off, so I’m home. But that’s okay, it’s time I got up.” He flicked on the bedside lamp. “What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you. One-on-one.”
That sounded ominous. “Um … why don’t you stop by?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s not a problem.” He gave her his address.
“Okay, I’ll come over and I’ll bring coffee.”
“That sounds perfect.”
After she hung up, Tim ran his hands over his face again. He could hardly get his thoughts to make sense, he was so tired. The previous day, they’d been called out six times, and that was before he’d done his mad rush to the ER. He put on a sweater, sweatpants and a pair of sandals before padding out to the kitchen for coffee. Molly said she’d bring some, but he needed a cup before he could face her and string words together. Besides, girls like Molly usually bought fancy coffees, with names like Ethiopian-Free-Trade-Single-Origin-Organic-Skinny-Soy-Latte or something similar.
He poured himself a cup from the drip coffee maker he always set to run at seven am on the mornings he was at home, and stood with his back against the counter to drink it. It wasn’t long before his head cleared and his thoughts firmed up. What would he say to her when she got there? Things were so uncertain between them. The last time he’d seen her had been at the hospital, and his feelings at the idea of losing her had surprised him. He was almost ashamed of his overreaction – she wasn’t even hurt – yet he’d imagined the worst and it had scared him.
The knock at the door drew him from his reverie and he hurried to answer it, his heart pounding. She stood there, two coffees in hand, a half-smile on her face. Her hair curled neatly beside pink cheeks, and the morning sun rose hot and orange behind her against the glowing horizon. “Come on in.”
“Thanks. It’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
Molly eyed the mug in Tim’s hand. “What’s that you’re drinking?”
He glanced at the cup, almost in surprise. “Oh. It’s coffee.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But I told you I was bringing coffee.”
“There’s nothing better than a cup of coffee, except two cups,” he said with a chuckle, taking the disposable cup she offered.
“It’s strong and black – hope you like it that way.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Yeah? Not one of those fancy drinks?”
She laughed. “No. I need real coffee first thing in the morning. Those lattes and frappuccinos just don’t do it for me.”
“Wow, I think I might be in love,” Tim said with a wink.
Molly’s heart skipped a beat and she bit her lip. She had to be careful with a man like Tim. He knew just what to say to make a girl’s legs weak, and she didn’t need that in her life. She needed a friend – a friend she could trust.
He shut the door behind her and led her to the kitchen. She sat on a barstool and took a sip from her cup. “This is nice,” she said, looking around before studying him. His hair was mussed and his eyes half-lidded, his cheeks covered in stubble.
He smiled. “I like it okay.”
“You’ve made it really homey.” She smiled and returned her attention to her coffee cup. She’d come to see him for a reason, but she wasn’t eager to get started on that particular conversation too soon. “I told Daddy we’re engaged.”
His eyes widened and he swallowed a mouthful of coffee before responding. “Oh.”
“He was arguing with me, and … I guess I said it to get him off my case. I’m sorry, I probably should’ve talked to you about it first.”
He laughed. “Not really – I did the same thing to you. So unless you’ve decided you want to back out of the arrangement, I guess telling your family was the next logical step. What were you arguing about?”
She took a long breath. “You, actually.”
“He’s not happy about us either?”
Molly shook her head. “No, he’s not. But that wasn’t all we were arguing about. Did you see the story in the Chronicle about Amanda’s stabbing?”
He nodded. “I did.”
He didn’t seem very sorry for it – he could at least have the decency to blush. But he sat there, cool as a cucumber, as though there was nothing at all wrong. Hot anger surged through her gut. “You don’t think it was completely inappropriate and inconsiderate?”
His brow furrowed, he shrugged. “What do you mean? It was just a story about what happened to Amanda. Or am I missing something?”
Molly set her cup on the countertop. “Did you leak the story to your family’s paper?”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Don’t pretend – who else could it have been? We didn’t tell anyone. We didn’t run the story until this morning, and our staff kept the whole thing under wraps to protect Amanda. It had to have been you – you showed up there, I told you what happened, and next thing I know it’s on Chronicle Digital.”
“It’s not my newspaper. I have nothing to do with running it, or the stories they publish, you know that. I didn’t tell them. In fact, I didn’t talk to anyone about it except my neighbor Callum, and he wouldn’t say anything. And I’m really disappointed you think that little of me.” His voice was cold and his eyes dark.
“You didn’t talk to your father or your brother about Amanda?”
He shook his head and stood to pace. “No, I didn’t. And I can’t believe you’re accusing me like this. I knew what I witnessed was a private moment for your family – I’d never turn it into a story. That kind of thing is why I walked away from the family business – I hate all that. And you know that about me – or at least, I thought you did.”
Molly’s cheeks blazed with heat. “I’m sorry – I had to check. Daddy was so sure it was you, and I always hear this stuff from my family about yours …”
His nostrils flared. “Well, perhaps we should just call the whole thing off. Why would you want to make peace between our families if you think so little of us?”
“I didn’t say I did, but …”
Tim started dialing his cell phone. He set it on the counter and turned on the speakerphone.
She frowned. What w
as he doing? They were in the middle of an argument and he was calling someone. She didn’t understand him at all. Perhaps she should just leave.
“Hi, Tim,” said a man gruffly.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Just fine. How about you?”
“I’m well. Say, Stuart, how did you stumble upon that story about Amanda Beluga –the stabbing?”
Stuart grunted. “We’ve got a source – an orderly at the hospital. He keeps me informed about anything he thinks I might like to know.”
Tim arched an eyebrow and met Molly’s gaze. “Thanks.”
“Why do you want to know?” asked Stuart.
“Just curious, you know – she’s going to be my sister-in-law. I’d like to look out for her, for Molly’s sake.”
Stuart chuckled. “I still can’t believe you’re getting married.”
Tim sighed. “I can’t believe it either. Hey, I’ll call you later, okay?” He ended the call, still looking at Molly. “Satisfied?”
She felt three inches tall. He had nothing to hide – unless he’d set up the whole conversation earlier with his brother, he must’ve been telling the truth. And how could he know she’d come by and confront him about it? Her head spun – it was all too confusing. But she knew she owed him an apology. Her cheeks flamed at the memory of her accusations. “I’m sorry. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.”
He nodded. “Yes, you should’ve.”
“Would you have trusted me?”
“Of course. I have no reason not to.”
“So you trust people until they break your trust?”
“I do.”
“I tend not to trust people until they prove I can.”
He laughed. “I can believe it.” His eyes darkened as he stepped toward her. Her heart skipped a beat – would he kiss her? But he just rested his hands on her upper arms, caressing them with his thumbs. “You need to relax,” he whispered.
Her skin goose pimpled beneath his touch. “I know. Vicky’s always saying that.” Her voice was hoarse and she cleared her throat, her heart pounding.
He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers. She almost couldn’t bear the tension. If he kissed her, it would change everything, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. There were so many things about him she liked, but her feelings swirled around inside her like a fog. She longed for that first kiss, yet it scared her. “My parents want you to come to dinner next Friday,” she blurted.
