by Ava Miles
“We’ll stay for moral support if you feel it’s best, dear,” he said, patting her hand.
She released a long breath. “Thank you, Arthur.”
He wanted to assure her everything would turn around, but he didn’t know if it would, and he wasn’t a man for false promises. “Family sticks together in times like these. We’ll stay as long as we’re needed.”
He only wondered how long that might be.
“Mr. Hale,” a little voice said suddenly, and he looked over to see Annie’s youngest standing beside the couch where he and Clara sat. “Why do you look so upset? Do you need a hug?”
His five-year-old friend Amelia was the apple of his eye, and he smiled to offset the worry around her mouth. “I’ll always take a hug from you, Amelia.”
“Good! Because I’ve got plenty for you. Aren’t you lucky we live in the same town now so I can give you a hug whenever you need one?”
“I’m the luckiest,” he said, enfolding her gently.
Personally, he was delighted Flynn and Annie had decided to move to Dare Valley. He could never have enough little people around him. Amelia always smelled like the orange blossoms her mother loved, as sweet as the girl herself.
“Where are your sisters?” he asked when she hugged him tightly one last time and then released him.
“Iris and Eloise were braiding their hair again, and it was taking forever. They tried to catch me, but I can’t stand having my hair pulled that tight. It hurts my head.”
He tapped her cute little nose, her cheerful sweetness easing his heart. Little ones had a way of pushing the troubles of the world away. His granddaughter, Jill, used to distract him like that when she was younger. Not his other granddaughter, Meredith, though. She used to fret alongside him, reading the newspaper with him from her perch on his lap. It was no wonder she was the one who’d assumed his role at the newspaper he’d founded.
“Your hair looks fine flying free. No need to scrunch it all up like that. Right, Clara?”
“What?”
His wife was fretting too much to listen, which meant one thing. He pointed to her. “She could use a hug too.”
“I could, yes,” Clara said and leaned forward as Amelia gave another one of her sweet hugs.
“Everyone is reading the news an awful lot, Mr. Hale,” Amelia said, pulling on her purple overalls. “Are there lots of articles right now that talk about bad things?”
She’d become his little journalistic pupil a couple of months ago, when he and Clara had gone out to Ohio to help Flynn romance Annie, leading up to their recent marriage. Amelia had black ink in her veins, it seemed, and while her canniness delighted Arthur, he wanted to protect her some now. “There will always be stories that upset us, stories about things we don’t want to see in the world. All we can do is try to focus on the good.”
She nodded and peeked over her shoulder at her mom before gazing up at him. “But the bad stories are about all the people getting sick from this virus, right? It’s called the coro-something—I don’t know how to say it.”
Clara squeezed his arm in what he could only feel was shock and alarm. He kissed her on the cheek. “My dear, why don’t you find Caroline? I believe she was helping Assumpta and Becca make dinner.” They were chopping up a storm for kebabs, he knew, channeling their worries into something productive.
Her mouth twisted, but she kissed him again and then stood. They both knew she didn’t chop. “I’ll see you later, Amelia. Thanks for the hug.”
“Anytime, Mrs. Hale,” she said, but her tone wasn’t quite as bright and cheerful as usual.
“Come on up here,” Arthur said, helping the little girl onto the couch next to him. “Seems you’re turning into a good little journalist.”
“You taught me how to research a story.” She swung her feet, which dangled off the end of the couch. “Who, what, when, where, why, and how. Those are the questions you ask. I remember everything you taught me, Mr. Hale. Remember the story I wrote about the twins?”
He’d helped her with that story, hoping she would feel less left out by her older twin sisters. His idea had worked. “You outdid yourself, Amelia.”
“Then will you tell me why so many people are getting sick?” she whispered, leaning on his arm. “I heard Uncle J.T. say he was worried about some of the people he knew in Italy getting sick, and I had Iris and Eloise look it up on the tablet, but Mom found us and took it away. She said it would only scare us and not to worry. But I know something’s going on. She and Flynn have the news on a whole lot right now.”
He cast a furtive glance at Annie, who was watching them out of the corner of her eyes. Of course she was scared. They all were. The Merriams had friends and colleagues in Europe and Asia and beyond. The virus had been growing there. Now it was at America’s door. Texas had just announced its first cases, and so had other states recently. It was starting to hit home, and what parent wouldn’t want to protect their children from that? “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”
Surely Annie would trust him to talk to Amelia. She was a smart girl, and he couldn’t bear for her to be scared. Better for her to know the basics of what was going on than to have unanswered questions preying on her mind. At least a person knew what they were dealing with when they were informed.
She took his hand, and he made sure to smile as Annie and Caitlyn lifted their heads. “We’ll be back in a bit. Gotta escape the braiding twins.”
Annie made a strong showing of a smile. Caitlyn wasn’t capable of mustering one, which told Arthur how stressed she must be.
He paused for their jackets in the front coat closet, and then they hustled outside. The path to the vineyards was familiar to him, and he led them there. Amelia wasn’t skipping like usual, so when they reached the stone wall at the edge of the vines, he propped her up on it and gathered his thoughts.
“I don’t want you to be scared,” he told her, “and neither does your mom or Flynn or anyone else.”
“Mom isn’t scared very much, Mr. Hale, and Flynn is always joking and laughing. But he hasn’t been doing much of that lately. I’ve seen him rub his forehead right here.” She pointed between her brows. “And he frowns a lot. Even Iris and Eloise have noticed. I know it’s not just the family company because I’ve been listening—like you told me to.”
Eavesdropping, he imagined. Hadn’t he said she was a budding journalist? “You see more than the average bear, so I’m going to be straight with you. There is a virus, and it’s kinda like the flu.”
“We got flu shots last year.” Her nose scrunched up. “I don’t like getting stuck with needles.”
“Neither do I,” he said, resting against the stone wall beside her. “This virus doesn’t have a shot yet, which is why people are getting it.”
“Can animals get it? Like my pony?”
It was still early days, but Arthur hadn’t seen anything to that effect. “No, I don’t think Carrot can get it. Only people.”
“Are many of them dying like my daddy did?” she asked, her blue eyes enormous in her little face.
He stroked her blond hair. Any child who’d lost a parent young was changed by death, and it made them older in years somehow. “Yes, they are.”
“How many?” she pressed.
“A fair amount,” he decided to say. Telling her the hard figure he’d seen reported today—more than twenty-six hundred—wouldn’t be helpful.
“I feel bad for all the kids and mommies and daddies. They’re going to cry a lot like my mom, Eloise, and Iris did. Things like this shouldn’t happen, should they, Mr. Hale?”
She’d always repeated phrases she’d heard from others, and this one struck him as such, even if it was plain truth. “No, honey. It shouldn’t.”
“I don’t want anyone to die, Mr. Hale. Not you or anyone.”
Tears started to stream down her face, and his heart tightened upon seeing them.
“Oh, now, let’s not start crying.” He put his arm around her as she gave a
little wail that tore him open.
He’d faced down death recently with his heart attack this past summer, and while he’d made peace with the prospect of moving on, marrying Clara had been a game changer. She talked about them living until one hundred, and he’d signed on, wanting to enjoy their every adventure and see their families continue to thrive and grow. As news of the virus continued to filter in, he felt a new fear lurking in the back of his mind.
He wasn’t ready to go yet. And he didn’t want anyone else he loved to go either.
Amelia was sobbing now, and he held her to his chest. “I’m going to tell you a journalist’s cardinal rule, Amelia. You don’t cry until something bad has happened directly to you. We’re supposed to observe and report the news. Not cry over it every day. Be hard to do our job otherwise, right?”
He raised her sweetheart-shaped face, and she wiped her nose. “I don’t want to cry every day. I just want to play with my sisters and Carrot and laugh with Mom and Flynn and talk to you. But it still makes me sad, Mr. Hale.”
“If it didn’t make you sad, I would worry about you, Amelia. Only good people worry about other people like that. But we’re reporters, so we have to set our emotions aside and focus on the questions we need to ask to get to the truth.”
Nodding, she wiped her nose again, her tears finally stopping. “I have a question. If we can’t get a shot, then how do we not get sick?”
He sighed. Did she know about the healing flower Clara had given her family just in case? Should he even mention it? Drat, there weren’t enough healing flowers for every sick person in the world, and he felt guilty they had something that might help and couldn’t distribute it. Still, there was so much they didn’t know. It had healed Michaela from a tropical virus, but who knew what—if anything—it would do for the coronavirus? The testing phase was in its infancy in Michaela and Boyd’s new company.
“That’s an excellent question,” he said instead, “proving how smart you are. Right now, there isn’t much of an answer.”
A few countries were testing people for the virus and implementing masks, much like he’d seen done during the SARS outbreak in 2003. Arthur had no idea if anything else was effective because he hadn’t looked. The go-to seemed to be handwashing, and that just didn’t seem to cut it.
Her direct gaze locked him in place. “That’s kinda scary, Mr. Hale. You always say there’s an answer to every question when you look hard enough.”
Caught by a novice reporter. “Then we’ll have to look harder, won’t we? Thank you for reminding me.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, scooting over on the wall until she could lean her head against his chest. “I’m going to do an article too. You said before you might publish it in your newspaper if it’s good enough.”
He had said that to her at Flynn and Annie’s wedding. “That’s our deal.”
“Then it will be the best article ever,” she said, her blue eyes reminding him of her mother’s steely-eyed gaze whenever she talked about her business. “I just want everyone to stay healthy and strong. Grandma Loudermilk prays for that for me and my sisters every day. She told me so. Isn’t that nice?”
“The nicest.” June was a sweet woman, and he’d enjoyed becoming friends with her on their trip to Ohio. She’d planned to visit them in Dare Valley this summer, but now he had to wonder if that would happen. Travel was starting to slow down in Asia and Europe. Wouldn’t the virus affect the U.S. in the same way? It seemed inconceivable, and yet he was reading more articles about its impact daily.
He kissed Amelia on the top of her head. “You are bright as sunshine, Amelia, my dear, and I’m so happy you and I get along so well.”
“We’re friends, Mr. Hale,” she said, hugging him. “I’m happy you answer my questions. I don’t like not knowing things, and I’ll try not to cry when I do my research.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted her to read the news directly, without any kind of oversight. “How about you let me take the lead and you can work with me on finding some answers?”
He’d have to talk to Annie and Flynn about it, but you couldn’t hide anything from kids. They always knew something was going on, and if you refused to tell them what, they made up stories to fill in the blanks. Better to help them understand things in a way that made sense for their age.
“Okay. We’re good partners. I also asked Iris to help me with my reading so I could research anything. When I read, I understand things better.”
Simple, yet profoundly true. “You’re prodigious.”
She looked up at him. “What’s that?”
He thought learning a new word might spike her curiosity and turn her mind away from the virus—if only temporarily—so he told her what it meant. While he was glad he’d been able to comfort her some, he didn’t have enough answers yet to allay his own fears. Certainly not Clara’s or anyone else he loved.
That didn’t sit well with a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist like Arthur Hale.
Chapter 19
He’d been poised for one of the greatest victories of his career. Instead, Quinn was nursing a whiskey with Trevor, J.T., and Flynn in what could only be described as a war room party.
“You guys should head back to Mom and Dad’s,” he told them, finishing off his drink. “I can’t thank you enough for pitching in today.”
Seven o’clock had come and gone. They’d all been on the phone nonstop to senior Merriam executives, industry partners, and market insiders. While their restructuring plan was largely seen as strong, some were thinking it was too late.
With oil prices taking another dive along with the giant plunge of the stock market, Quinn couldn’t blame them. Merriam Enterprises was in more trouble than ever. Even Francesca’s genius hadn’t been able to save them.
He couldn’t imagine how upset she must be. When he got home, he’d have to assure her somehow.
“We need to show some strength here at headquarters,” Trevor said, clapping him on the back and finishing his own drink. “I’m staying on to help you, Quinn. Caitlyn and Beau said they’d fly Becca back to Ireland tomorrow on their way to Provence.”
“Annie said she’ll fly home with the girls so I can stay longer too,” Flynn said, only adding to the constriction in Quinn’s throat. “We’re still getting into the new normal with their school.”
“Caroline will go with them,” J.T. said. “I’m not leaving until we dig our way out of this ditch. Jesus. This virus is killing us.”
It was literally killing people too, but no one wanted to voice that.
“It’s hurting everyone’s stocks,” Trevor said, rubbing his eyes. “We have to remember we aren’t alone in this bleed.”
“True, but we were in a weak position going into today,” Quinn said, “and current global conditions aren’t helping any.”
“No, they aren’t,” Flynn said, flicking open the button of his jacket. “Dammit. Francesca’s plan rocked. It shouldn’t have gone down like this.”
“It did, and we deal.” He was sick of complaining about it even if he wasn’t sure what to do about it. “Oil prices haven’t just been free-falling. They rose before. Let’s hope they do again.”
Hell, when had he become an optimist?
“All right,” Trevor said, clapping him on the back again. “You head on home to Francesca, and we’re going to get back to Mom and Dad’s place. See you in the morning.”
He faced his brothers. “Thanks for being here.”
They’d gone beyond their duties to the company tonight, and they all knew it.
“It’s what family does, bro,” J.T. said. “Later, man.”
He man-hugged him, and his other brothers did the same.
“You enjoy pounding me, Trev?” he asked, rotating his shoulder jokingly.
“Am I treating you too rough?” his brother responded with a laugh. “Maybe Francesca will kiss it and make it better.”
“She’d skin your balls if she heard you talk like that,” Quinn said,
but he was smiling.
“I love that about her,” Trevor said. “You might consider hiring her on a more permanent basis. She has a reputation for excellence, and having her on board might bring in extra market confidence fairies.”
“Your time in Ireland has made you daft,” Quinn shot back. And then, because he couldn’t duck the suggestion without comment, no matter how much he might want to, he added, “She’s figuring out her next steps professionally now that we’re back together.”
J.T. cleared his throat. “I see. Hang in there, bro. Okay, now we’re out of here.”
They left the room, and he rubbed his brow. Truthfully, he did wish Francesca would decide to join them. Him. But after the bath they’d taken in the market, he hated asking her to board a leaky ship. And hadn’t he promised he’d give her space?
He had to keep his promise. A person’s word meant everything to her.
When he arrived at his house, it was nearing ten o’clock. Entering from the garage, he let himself into the lower level and stopped short at the sight of her standing in front of the windows.
When she turned, the devastation was obvious in the tense lines of her mouth and around her eyes. “It was a tough day, and I’m sorry. I had a glass of champagne with Alice and Hargreaves to celebrate. Before the market took a tumble.”
He crossed to her and pulled her into his arms. “Yeah, and I’ve had a belly full of talking about it. The only thing I need to say is this: your plan is still genius. We’re just dealing with a global situation that’s unprecedented. Okay?”
She tightened her grip around him. “I know that. Still, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how you felt today. When I tried to put myself in your shoes, I felt sick.”
“I was sick,” Quinn said, “but my brothers came in and helped me make some big calls. It helped more than I would have thought. They’re staying on for a while longer. Trevor’s calling it a show of strength.”
Pressing away, she caressed his face. “He’s right. You need to show you aren’t concerned about what’s happening. People respect strength, especially in moments like this. You stand tall. Keep your chin up. The market responds to it.”