Share the Moon. Sharon Struth
Up. The computer’s motor whirled to life and she went to her e-mail, opening one marked “urgent” sent from Cliff an hour earlier.
Will Steiner wants us to interview Duncan Jamieson. Let’s talk asap.
Will Steiner? Her shoulders tensed. There wasn’t an ounce of love lost when it came to the man who ran their parent company.
Sophie blew out a breath and her tenseness relaxed. What was she doing? A few short days ago, she’d begged Cliff to give her the story. Even though he’d think she was fickle, the time had come to tell Cliff what had happened at the kayaks. It might be in the best interest of all parties for her to step aside. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d just given up on anything, though. The idea gnawed at her, carrying the sour aftertaste of losing a well-played game.
She gulped a swig of coffee and stood. “This should be good.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
Sophie snorted. “Guess again. The powers from above are dictating what we report on.”
“Above meaning God or good ol’ Willy-boy?” Gabby chuckled. “May as well make the best of it. I think he’s here to stay.”
“Who? God?”
“Him too.” Gabby grinned. Sophie marveled at how her coworker stayed so positive, even with the stress in her personal life.
Sophie marched up the stairs. At Cliff’s office, she leaned on the doorjamb and crossed her arms. “Got your e-mail.”
He sat at his desk editing a document squared in front of him. With one swift movement, he dropped the pen and tipped his glasses to the top of his head. “Good. You’re here. Have a seat.”
She plunked into the chair across from him and pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan, staring at an autographed Larry Bird poster from the early years and a framed Super Bowl XXXI program on the wall behind Cliff. Besides sports, fishing was the only thing to draw him away from his desk.
“I can’t stand editing these reader submissions for Eye Around Town.” Cliff’s face reddened, matching the fire engine color in his plaid shirt. “They get worse and worse. How can we let the public give us news? Half this stuff probably isn’t even true. Why doesn’t a smart guy like Will realize you get what you pay for?”
“Because he knows anybody who has two index fingers and a computer can give us free content.” She grabbed a lone paper clip off the edge of the desk and unbent the curved metal. “That dumb column is right up his penny-pinching alley. If he gets enough free material from them, I’m the one who’ll be out of a job, not you.”
Cliff frowned. “You’re supposed to calm me down, not get me madder.”
“That’s Gabby’s job.” She tossed the ruined clip into a nearby can. “Why is Will in a big hurry to get a story about Jamieson?”
“Because Jamieson’s a rich guy moving to a small town. A town where he’s making a huge financial investment. I hate to say this, but it’s not a bad idea.”
“Don’t you think a busy guy like Will calling on such a trivial matter is odd?”
“Normally I’d say yes, but he’s friends with Jamieson.”
Sophie slapped a palm on the desk. “Did you know RGI is pulling strings at the Courant too?”
Cliff shrugged. “There’s politics everywhere.”
Annoyed by the way Cliff had returned to his levelheaded self, she stifled the rest of her rant.
He picked up the pen. “Oh yeah. Will said to give the developer some good press. I told him we’d do our best.”
Sophie bit the inside of her cheek. A quiet rebellion raised havoc inside her. Had journalism changed since she attended college? Who? What? When? Where? Why? How? So What? Keep it simple. Ensure the story remained fair and balanced. These days, everywhere she turned the lines between journalism and opinion blurred.
“You might have explained to Will the difference between reporting and editorializing.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’d like to keep my job until retirement.” The bags under Cliff’s lower lids suggested a tough night’s sleep and he didn’t appear in the mood to have this conversation. “Approach this the way you do every other interview. See how it falls out. Who knows?” He smirked. “Maybe you’ll end up loving the guy.”
Will’s demands sapped her energy. Maybe it was a sign she should give this up before she compromised her journalist ethics in a whole other way, to suit the needs of someone above her.
Besides, a whole sidebar of issues prevailed. The way she peeled out of the parking lot after telling Duncan off was rude and ladies’ night conversation had confirmed the indictments she’d thrown in his face were untrue. Worse than anything, her imaginary flirting accusation still left her with the embarrassment of an escaped burp.
She could just tell Cliff the truth; that she’d been lying to him for the past week.
Instead, she slipped on her best overwhelmed-but-willing face, hoping it didn’t look like she was in pain. “What about my conflict of interest? Maybe now that Gabby’s back, she should take the story. From what Will’s saying, this sounds urgent. I mean, I’ve got the Bellantoni’s Market hours change to work on.” Cliff stared back, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, and this week I’m scheduled to interview the head of Public Works about the left turn signal at the school park.”
“Thought I’d be dead before they addressed that stupid traffic light.”
“Me too.” Even back when Sophie had attended school, the signal at the main intersection of their educational park didn’t have a left turn arrow on the traffic light. Oncoming traffic was delayed by a good thirty seconds once the light turned green, however, during busy hours the precarious moment right before the oncoming light switched to green became a game of chance. “So, you’ll put Gabby on the zoning story?”
“Can’t.” Cliff rubbed the tip of his long chin. “Will said Jamieson specifically asked for you to do the interview, but I’ll call them and tell them no if you think you can’t handle—”
“Are you sure he wants me?”
“You two met at the hearing, right?”
She nodded.
“Then you’re the Sophie Shaw he’s asking for.” Cliff lifted a yellow Post-it, held it out at arm’s length, and squinted, apparently forgetting about the glasses on his head. “He said to arrange it through Carl, um….”
“Carl Hansen?”
His vision shifted over the top of the note. “You know him?”
“Oh, yeah. Carl and I go way, way back.” Sophie stood and left. The worn wood staircase creaked as she headed to the first floor.
When she hit the last step, Cliff yelled, “They’d like the story in by this Friday too.”
“Of course they would,” she mumbled but yelled back, “Okay.”
Sophie phoned Carl, who slotted her in with Duncan on Wednesday afternoon. She had two days to figure out how to mend her mistakes. She’d called Duncan a liar, speculated he’d flirted with her to gain professional favor, and then spat out the last word and sped from the parking lot. Two days? She’d need two weeks to find the right words to fix this mess.
Chapter 6
Waxing Crescent: Varying amounts of the lunar surface are illuminated
offering the appearance of growth.
A trip to the West Farms Mall put Sophie ten minutes behind schedule for her appointment at RGI’s Hartford office. She pushed the accelerator and violated the posted speed limit on I-84. No point in giving the almighty