by CF Frizzell
*
Much to Mel’s dismay, time conspired against all efforts to develop a news story off Shay’s tip. Frustrated by a denial of access to the site prior to her deadline, she worried about alterations being made at the Heights before she could report them. She insisted on a site visit the next day, determined to obtain an accurate status of the project for the following week’s paper.
She had Mike at her side as they stepped cautiously across the Heights’s acreage Thursday afternoon, but that didn’t deter workers from wolf whistling. Wishing she’d changed her skirt for slacks, she picked up their pace to reach the red dually truck. Sorvini and Chandler turned from the plans on the tailgate to watch.
“Figures he’d be out on bail.” Mike swapped out a camera lens as they walked. “Della better fire his lard ass.”
“Guaranteed he lands on his feet. Looks like he’s already joined Chandler’s army. They suit each other so well,” Mel grumbled.
“You got that right. Can’t trust either of them.”
“After yesterday’s stunt, I could crucify them. They knew exactly what they were doing, refusing to see us, pushing us back beyond deadline.” Mel lowered her head, pretending to watch her footing as they reached the truck. “Regardless of what they say, shoot everything you can.”
Chandler straightened his tie and adjusted his tan Stetson. “Good afternoon, Mel.” He beamed at her and ignored Mike.
“Hi, Ed, Angelo.”
Chandler surveyed her figure while Sorvini took off his suit jacket and tossed it over the plans. Mel’s stomach turned. What a disgusting, intimidating duo.
Chandler stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Too bad about that window of yours. At least it was a Sunday and you were closed.”
Mel subtly shifted out from under his hand. “Glass flew right by me, Ed. I was in at the time.”
“You were? Lord, Mel!” He took the opportunity to look her up and down again, and Mel was tempted to leave. “Were you hurt? Jesus, I surely hope not.”
Looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, Sorvini fought back a smirk. “Wouldn’t mean you’re pushing people to the brink, now would it?”
I’d love to push you on your goddamn ass.
“The police have a lead, so I’m sure whoever did it will be paying soon enough. It’s a shame some people think intimidation is the answer to everything.” She met Sorvini’s eyes evenly and let her insinuation linger. “Are you here representing Slattery, Angie?”
Sorvini took a breath and Mel hoped the buttons would pop off his shirt.
“I’ve worked on this project since its inception,” he said.
“And that’s not changing,” Chandler added. He clapped Sorvini’s shoulder. “We’re down to crunch time now and Della knows what an asset he is.”
“So,” Mel persisted, “you’re still on the Slattery payroll?”
“Now, Mel,” Chandler said, and stepped away from the truck. “I’m sure detailing our progress on Tomson’s biggest commercial project is your purpose here today, so why don’t we get to it, hmm?”
He strolled away, Sorvini followed, and Mel and Mike exchanged looks before tagging along. Mike clicked off photos as they went and Mel whispered at his side.
“Make sure you include them in a few shots,” she whispered. “I’ll try to get a straight answer out of Della later.”
At a stack of cement forms, Chandler stopped and gestured broadly at the backhoe operating nearby. “As you can see, foundations will be framed in no time.”
Sorvini said, “Everything’s falling into place.”
Mike wandered off, circling the pegged area and panning the scene as he walked, until Mel could no longer hear his camera’s repetitive shutter action. She watched him circle the marked area closest to the river, counting on him to put easily identified perspective into his images.
“Nothing much that’ll show in pictures,” Chandler said.
That’s what concerns me.
“Just dirt,” Sorvini added.
“And holes.” Chandler chuckled. “Nothing much has changed from the schedule I outlined for you a while back, Mel.”
She swiped through pages on her tablet’s screen and began walking toward Mike.
“I have an old note here, Ed, saying foundation forms would be in about now.” She looked up at him and then pointed to the perimeter. “Didn’t you hope to be done with this already?” Come on, Ed. Admit you ran into a snag.
“Oh, roughed-out time frames always get adjusted.”
“That’s the nature of the business,” Sorvini said, adding nothing to the conversation except to remind Mel of Shay.
“So, you are behind—but it looks like things are really taking shape.”
Chandler’s frown disappeared as quickly as it had formed. “I’m glad you’re seeing the positive here. This project is too important, and our operation is too big to let little things pull us off-target.”
“Oh, I hear you loud and clear, Ed.” Mel nodded as she wrote on her tablet. “Little things, like what?”
“Lord, Mel. Minutia doesn’t matter. What’s important is having the biggest outfit in this part of Montana on your side and getting the job done.”
“Ahead of schedule, when possible,” Sorvini added.
“Angie makes a good point,” Chandler said. “With a little luck, we could finish well within the allotted time. When you’ve been in the business as long as I have, Mel, you learn to adapt. We’re in very good shape, overall.”
Mel wrote a bit longer, knowing both men figured she was logging impressive quotes, and put her tablet away. She couldn’t get off the site fast enough.
Back in her Subaru, she swiped hair from her face with both hands before turning the key. “Phew. They just disgust me. Did you get anything good?”
“Hard to tell.” He was riveted to the screen on his camera, flipping through images. “I want to see these blown up on a tube. We might have something.”
“We’ll take a look as soon as we get back. We have the plans to compare them to.”
Chapter Sixteen
Saturday morning, Shay rolled to a stop among trucks parked near the stage. Carpenters hammered and chatted away, and she was relieved to see Moriarty had come through with the long-awaited lumber.
Freddy waved as he approached. “Looking better than last I saw you.”
“Second day riding and no headaches, no complaints.” She scanned the vast, busy landscape. “He’s gone now?”
“Sorvini? Yeah, and it’s official, and a few of his boys are pissed. He came right here after his arraignment, cleaned out his desk in the barn, then took off for Chandler’s.”
She wondered how the two big goons were coping with inquiries about the Heights. She worried about Mel, stirring up controversy and stepping on toes with pointed questions. Shay called her every day to make sure things were still all right.
“Well, we have our own pressing issues. Like that piece-of-crap grader. I need it working in a big way. Do you know if Sorvini’s had anyone on it?”
“Don’t know. Tommy’s been pushing this and driving us hard.” He tipped his head toward the stage. “Hey, why are you here anyway? Don’t you run Sonny’s shop on Saturdays?”
“I’m still taking it slow.”
“Don’t rush it. Go cruise the grounds, take inventory or something.” Freddy snorted. “Della’s probably peeing her pants, being in the dark without her big man.”
“You’re probably right. I’ll look around. Really pro job here, by the way. Looks great.”
“Good as they have at Red Rock,” he boasted. “Go see Tommy. He’ll be glad to see you’re back.”
She rumbled across the acreage designated for carnival rides and midway games, only wincing occasionally when a bounce over a gopher hole or field rut rattled her jaw. Rogers walked out of the maintenance barn to greet her and shook his head.
“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Shay joined him
in the doorway. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“You can see well enough to drive?”
“Looks worse than it feels.”
“Hey, Angie’s history. Gave me his keys just this morning. You heard, right?”
“I did. No loss in my book.”
“Everyone agrees, except for a few of his pets, and they’re the ones to watch out for.”
Shay scrabbled a hand back through her hair. “Jensen and O’Brien?”
“And Peters, the crazy one.”
“Figured. They were with him at Moriarty’s, but I thought they looked ready to abandon him when he flew off the handle.”
“Those clowns getting the drop on you would please them no end, so stay on your guard. And watch your bike.”
“They touch my bike, they’ll be sorry.”
“Angie said Peters had a little go-round with Mel Baker early this morning at the diner. Guess she was interviewing him about working for Angie, temperament, that sort of thing, and Peters let the whole diner hear he thought you two had a ‘thing’ going.”
Shay straightened and jammed her hands into her pockets. She tried to imagine Mel’s reaction to such an accusation—in public, no less. The counterpunching has begun. She hurried to formulate an appropriate answer.
“Mel and I are friends and that’s pretty low, twisting things around and putting her on the spot. Sorvini say what Mel’s response was?”
“No, but he seemed proud of his boy, embarrassing her like that in front of everybody.” Rogers took off his ball cap and scratched his head. When he shuffled in place, she knew there was more.
“Tommy?”
“Yeah, well, eh, I suppose you should hear it from me, if you haven’t already.”
“Now what?”
“Erica Brown was asking for you at the clinic the other night. I had one of my grandkids there for an earache, and Erica asked how you were coming along. Shay, she’s a blabbermouth of the first degree. Nice lady, but damn, the woman never shuts up.”
“What did she say?” Shay’s nerves frazzled a bit more and she balled her hands into fists in her pockets.
“She said she saw Mel with you there and…you two looked pretty cozy.” Shay half turned in anger, but Rogers rapped her arm with the back of his hand. “Hey, I’m not one to spread stuff like that. Hope you know. I just wanted to tell you that she’s got folks talking.”
“Mel doesn’t deserve to be the butt of two-bit gossip!”
Rogers reared back. “Whoa, woman. You don’t have to tell me. She’s the darlin’ of Tomson, but listen. It’s all over town that Mel’s nosing around the Heights for something, and if Angie and Ed Chandler think discrediting her will keep their butts out of hot water, they’ll encourage all the rumors about her they can come up with.”
“Got that right. Damn these people.”
“Look, I don’t really know and don’t care what Erica’s yapping about now, but I’ll be honest. Half the guys in town have tried to date Mel and she plays close to the vest. Hard to get doesn’t come close. And I say good for her. She should be picky. Hell, I’ve always figured she’d come back from some vacation with a city guy, that she must prefer that sort, you know?”
If Shay hadn’t been so wound up about this escalation of war and Mel’s reaction, she would have been amused. The temptation to level with him was great. Rogers was kind and honest, and she trusted him. There weren’t many others in town about whom she could say the same.
“Shay, look. I got to say, that if Mel…” He frowned as he sighed. “If you and she, um…”
“If we what?” She was afraid to appear anything but curious.
Rogers shrugged. “I’m not sure what I was going to say there.”
“Mel knows her own mind, Tommy, and I respect her immensely. She’s up front with everyone, from what I’ve seen. Professionally and personally. I think we’ve become friends because I’m not from here and I see things a little differently, and she enjoys that change of pace.”
Rogers nodded, then mumbled toward the ground. “You’re from the city.”
Shay studied him closely. “Are you saying I’m that city guy?”
“For what it’s worth, Shay, I’m on your side.”
*
Mel set a glass of iced tea on the side table next to Nana and brought the knitting bag closer to her recliner. Settled into her comfortable spot, Nana would be happy for the several hours Mel needed to spend at the office.
“Must you work today, too, Lissa? Such a beautiful Sunday and you’re going back to that little hole in the wall and coop yourself up.”
“Things are busy lately, Nana. I just need a few hours of solitude with the Heights plans we got, to get a jump on the week. I’ll be back in plenty of time to make us that pot roast I promised.”
Nana grumbled as she rummaged in her bag and pulled out a tangle of needles and yarn.
“Are you seeing someone on the sly?”
Mel’s jaw dropped slightly. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. An outsider? From Chicago, I think?”
“What would ever make you ask that?” She wasn’t ready or strong enough to engage in a battle with Nana.
“I may not get out very often, dear, but I do hear things, and there were a few whispers I caught this morning as we were leaving church. I was quite shocked.”
Mel sat on the ottoman at Nana’s feet, nervous but desperate to hear more.
“Like what?”
“That you and someone named Shay are an item. Why am I the last to hear? Why haven’t I met him? Hearing Rachel Walker and Marybeth Starr whispering about it was very disappointing.”
Mel sat up straight and glanced at the ceiling. Erica.
“Nana. You know how all those busybodies thrive on gossip, even if they have to create it themselves. They’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Well, I couldn’t hear all they were saying, but they were certainly aflutter over it.”
She patted Nana’s knee reassuringly. “Shay is in charge of the July Fourth festival at the Five Star, so we’ve talked a lot. You know I have to keep up with things over there. We’re friends. Don’t fret over the likes of Rachel and Marybeth.”
Not proud of avoiding the subject, Mel dreaded the moment she had to open up. She certainly didn’t want to be forced into that discussion, but that’s what it felt like. Dammed uncomfortable…untenable. Right now, all she wanted was to escape and just breathe.
“I don’t like people whispering about you. It’s not proper for a lady to be talked about like that. Casts you in a poor light. You’ll get a reputation.”
Mel swallowed and stood up with a sigh. Tell me something I don’t know, Nana.
“You just consider the source,” she said, wondering how many other sources were poised to rock her world. “I’m proud of my reputation.”
“I am, too, dear. That’s why I’m concerned.”
Mel bent and kissed her cheek. “Shush. Now, I have to go get some work done.”
In the Subaru, she started the ignition but dropped her hands into her lap. On top of all the news on her docket, she had this. Herself. Word was spreading already. The issue fought for priority in her brain, and she tried to find a place to stow it, just to be able to concentrate on daily life. But it refused back-burner status.
Her stomach became just as unruly as she drove into town. The Chronicle was on everyone’s lips, and she couldn’t have been more excited, more inspired, but now gossip would override that and the name Mel Baker would take precedence. Her character would be doubted, her work undermined.
She muttered a “thank you, God,” that her father wasn’t privy to Tomson’s gossip mill from his Miami home. She doubted he corresponded socially with old acquaintances here. The idea that Nana might share Mel’s “seeing someone on the sly” with him chilled her initially, until she realized Nana would elaborate and tell her father the “someone” was a Slattery worker. He’d assume “male” and be content. And I c
ould continue hiding…
Eight months really isn’t that long. Just quit rocking the boat with this romantic fantasy. Do the job justice, return to a semblance of normalcy. In the end, I’ll own the Chronicle and be free to enjoy the life I choose. It won’t take forever, just patience and some time. And Shay…Will she really still be around in eight months, anyway? Already she’s so special she’s worth losing a lifelong dream? Smarten up and cool your heels.
Chapter Seventeen
Mel interpreted Mike’s working on a Sunday as just another sign of how everyday life was changing. But she wasn’t up for any of his teasing, and prepared by shoving every hint of her personal woes aside.
“What brings you in on a Sunday?” She headed to her desk as he went out to the front counter.
“Back issues for the Montana Press Photographers’ competition,” he said, his voice lost into the low shelves of newspapers.
“Are you entering all the categories again?”
“Yup. If I can find all the tear sheets I need. I’m going to claim a whole wall out here, you’ll see.”
“You better.” She hoped Mike won for his work this year. He’d taken first prize in sports photography and third in features last year. He deserved the recognition. The Chronicle will probably need the credibility by the time this mess settles.
“If you can’t find what you need, let me know,” she said, firing up her computer. “I can dig through my stash at home.” She picked a volume of town bylaws off a corner shelf as the front door bells jingled. Don’t people know it’s Sunday? She listened for Mike to greet the customer.
“Hey, Shay.”
“Mike. You guys never take days off?”
“News waits for no one,” he said loyally. “You still got some good color going there. Are you back in the saddle already? Where’s the Harley?” He looked past her, out the door window.
“Across at the diner. I grabbed a sandwich and saw a certain car pull in.”