“Thanks.” Sara met his gaze a moment, then looked away. “So what do you do next in here?”
“Make some prints, fix them. Want to see how it’s done?”
“Sure, I’d love to.”
Wyatt explained the printing process, using the negatives they had chosen. Sara helped, intrigued to learn the different steps. The odd thing was that, as they worked together, she finally started to feel comfortable with him.
While the prints dried, they went back out into the office, where Wyatt looked over her copy and made a few small changes. “You could move these lines up and then cut down here,” he explained, as he marked the text.
“Right, that is better,” she agreed, appreciating his explanation.
“Well . . . I guess that’s it,” Wyatt said finally. He sat back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “Unless, of course, you want to hang out and help me finish the layout?” He flashed a charming grin, making it almost impossible for her to refuse. “I’ll throw in a pizza.”
“A pizza, huh? Okay, I can stay,” Sara replied. She did feel like hanging out with him. It was definitely better than going back to her empty apartment to think about Luke.
“Great.” Wyatt looked pleased. “In that case . . .”—he glanced at his watch—“let’s order now. We might be here awhile. Are you hungry?”
“Actually, I am. I don’t think I ate lunch,” she commented.
“Me, either. I’m starved. Let’s get a lot of stuff on it,” he said eagerly. “Where’s that menu? I just had it—” he said, searching around his messy desk.
Sara had to smile. Sometimes she was amazed that he got a newspaper out every night without any pages missing.
“I’ll call. What do you want?”
They were hard at work by the time the food arrived. They managed to eat at the drafting table where the paper was being set up, hardly missing a beat. There weren’t any last-minute articles to fit, so the work went smoothly.
At last Wyatt transmitted the text and photos to the printer by E-mail.
“Excellent. It’s a wrap. You’ve made my day, Ms. Franklin.” He glanced up, his dark hair falling over his eyes, and he reached out to shake her hand. Sara took his hand, feeling his strong, warm grip in her own. His hands were wide and his skin smooth, much smoother than Luke’s, which was covered with calluses from construction work.
She felt odd thinking of Luke all of a sudden and turned away. “I guess I’ll get going. See you, Wyatt.”
“Wait, I’ll walk out with you,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the coatrack behind his desk. Sara put on her jacket and scarf and waited for him by the front door while he made sure all the computers were off and then turned off the lights.
“I can’t believe we finished already. This is a record for me,” he said, as he locked the door.
“I guess you’re getting the hang of it now,” Sara remarked. It was true, too. He hadn’t really needed her help at all. Sara had a feeling he’d just wanted the company.
“So, what do you think of the paper lately—I mean, since I took over?” he asked. “It’s okay, you can be honest.”
She felt nervous about answering. After all, he was her boss, and she didn’t want to insult him. But it was a fair question, and she knew he’d pick up on it if she tried to hedge.
“It’s not the same as when your father ran it, not quite as consistent. But I think it’s been good. Some issues have been really good,” she added. “More provocative.”
He glanced down at her, his hands in his jacket pockets. “Thanks. I guess I think so, too. Seems like I don’t have to worry anymore if I can do it. It’s more whether I want to do it.”
Sara was surprised by his candor, though she’d often sensed Wyatt had mixed feelings about the paper, acting as if it was more a duty than a pleasure—or the prize he’d been waiting to get his hands on since childhood.
“What about your father? Does he know that?” she asked him.
“We don’t communicate that well when it comes to the Messenger,” Wyatt said, pronouncing the name of the paper in a mock-solemn tone. “Not that it’s all his fault, either. I don’t even know how to bring it up. Something like, ‘By the way, I know you’ve waited for years for me to come back, but I’m really having second thoughts about doing this. I sort of miss taking pictures, traveling around, having a real life. . . . ’ ”
“I don’t know your father all that well,” Sara said, after a moment, “but I think you should be honest with him. It doesn’t do either of you any good if you’re not.”
She had learned that lesson the hard way, taking so long to reveal her identity to Emily, when honesty was the only thing that had helped either one of them.
Wyatt was quiet for a moment. He looked out at the harbor across the street, and she wondered if what she said had made him angry.
“Sara, that’s good advice, really. But I don’t think my father will understand. You were right the first time. You don’t know him. Once he has a plan—well, it’s nearly impossible to change his mind.”
Sara had a sinking feeling she’d said too much, given advice when he hadn’t really asked her for it.
Wyatt must have guessed what she was feeling because he said, “Listen, it’s okay. I know you’re just trying to help.” He smiled, then reached out and briefly touched her cheek.
Sara stared up at him. She suddenly realized she liked him. She liked him a lot. Luke’s words came back to haunt her. Had she had a crush on Wyatt all this time and not even realized it? She suddenly knew that yes, she really did like him.
She felt his hand drop away, as his voice broke through her trance. “Where’s your car? I’ll walk you over.”
“I didn’t drive today. I just walked to town.”
“Let me give you a lift then. My car’s right here.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She nodded, trying to keep her voice normal. It seemed hard in the wake of her sudden revelation.
They crossed the street to his car, and Wyatt opened the door for her. He drove a small black sports car, a two-seater with patches on the convertible top. It looked a little shabby, but also, somehow, classy and hip, Sara thought. It definitely suited him.
He started the engine and a few moments later, they were cruising through the village and then turning down her street. Sara pointed out her house, and he parked in front.
“Thanks for staying tonight. I appreciated your help—and it was fun.”
Almost like a date, Sara wanted to say. But she caught herself. “I had fun, too. For work, I mean,” she added in a serious tone that made him smile again.
“Yes, for work,” he agreed, his smile deepening. “But you still owe me for that lunch date,” he reminded her. “I didn’t forget.”
“The lunch date—oh, right,” she said, glancing at him.
“What are you doing Saturday night? Would you like to go out?” He stretched his arm along the back of her seat. Not around her shoulder exactly, but the car was small enough that the gesture was definitely distracting.
“Yes. I would,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.
“Good.” He smiled at her. “We’ll figure out the details later in the week. There’s a movie house in Newburyport that shows foreign films. Maybe something interesting will be playing there.”
“Sounds good to me.”
She found herself staring at him again, wondering how dumb she to had been not to realize she was attracted to him. Had he noticed all this time, she wondered uncomfortably. Gosh, I hope not, she thought.
She suddenly panicked and turned away, her hand fumbling for the latch on the door.
“Well, see you. Thanks for the lift,” she said abruptly. She jumped out of the car and nearly slid on the snow, catching herself just in time.
“See you, Sara,” he called out from his window.
He sounded as if he was trying not to laugh at her hasty escape, but she felt too embarrassed to turn around and look at him again.
; Sara still felt a little rattled as she opened her apartment door and let herself in. No calls on her answering machine, she noticed. But who was she expecting? Luke wouldn’t be calling again. He was gone, she reminded herself. Gone from this town—and her life.
She felt sad all over again, then almost guilty that she’d had so much fun tonight with Wyatt.
But she didn’t have anything to feel guilty over. She was free to see whomever she liked. Now more than ever, she told herself.
She’d felt closer to Wyatt tonight, as if they’d gotten to know each other much better, and she’d grown to like him even more. He was fun, clever, even irreverent at times. The opposite of Luke, who was usually so serious.
Maybe she didn’t need deep, serious feelings right now. Wasn’t that the real problem between her and Luke? A relationship with Wyatt might be just right.
“LOOK, DAD, I KNOW YOU HAVE YOUR SYSTEMS AND ALL YOUR LITTLE timesaving tricks. But these things don’t work for me. I’m trying to work out my own way of doing things. In case you haven’t noticed,” Wyatt said in a tight voice.
“I know that,” Dan replied. “But if you’d just try it my way once, I think you’ll see that you’re not only saving time but some money, too. That goes directly to the bottom line, Wyatt. Which you don’t seem to think about too much, I’ve noticed.”
“What are you talking about? Overhead hasn’t gone up at all since you left. Did Lindsay tell you that?”
“Your sister has nothing but positive words about what you’ve been doing here,” Dan replied, which was basically true, he thought.
He stared at his son, feeling weary. It was nearly eleven, and they still hadn’t transmitted the issue to the printer. Dan had never realized that his son could be so stubborn and inflexible. The more Dan tried to help him—show him a few shortcuts or problem areas to watch out for—the more Wyatt closed down, shutting him out.
They’d been at each other like this for days now, ever since he started coming into the office last Wednesday. Somehow they’d managed to make it through the week, but Dan could see they weren’t getting anywhere.
“Listen, I haven’t come down here the last few days to check up on you or make your life miserable. This is your paper now. I know that. I just want to feel sure that you really have control over things before I go. That’s all I’m trying to accomplish,” he said tiredly.
Wyatt looked up at him and leaned far back in his chair. “Right, your big trip,” he said. “I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
Dan almost thought he hadn’t heard him right. But he knew that he had.
“Getting restless already?” He tried to keep his tone light. “You just got here.”
“Oh, I think I’ve been here long enough to figure some things out,” Wyatt said slowly. He looked up at his father in a way that made Dan distinctly uneasy. “Dad, I’ve been thinking about this a lot, so don’t think I’m saying it just because we were arguing,” he began.
Dan felt his mouth going dry. He didn’t like the sound of this. “Okay, you’ve been thinking. I’m listening.”
“I don’t think I’m really cut out to run the paper,” Wyatt said flatly. “I know it’s been our plan. I know it’s the family tradition and all of that. But I have to be honest with you: it’s not for me.”
Dan didn’t know what to say. He felt a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He just didn’t get off to a good start, Dan told himself. If only I’d been here with him from the beginning. He got a bad taste in his mouth and now he wants out.
“Look, I hear what you’re saying, Son. I understand. But I know where this is coming from. You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve always been that way. You want to pick something up and master it immediately—no learning curve.” When Wyatt didn’t answer, he kept going. “Remember when we bought you that guitar? You stayed up in your room for a week and then came down one day, totally frustrated that you weren’t playing like some rock star,” he said, trying to lighten the mood between them.
“Dad, I’m not seventeen anymore. This isn’t because I’m not running the paper in my sleep—like you’ve been doing for most of your life,” he said in a cutting tone. “It’s because I don’t ever want to turn into that guy, who’s sitting here . . . running this paper in his sleep.”
Now Dan felt hurt and angry, but he tried his best to hold on to his temper. He had to go slowly—and carefully.
“Okay, you don’t want to be running this paper in your sleep. You don’t want to turn into me,” Dan said in an even tone. “Fair enough. I know how you feel. I felt the same way when my father handed me the keys to this place. What was I doing with my life, I asked myself, coming back to this nothing little town, throwing my life away on this nothing little paper.”
“I didn’t say that,” Wyatt argued, shaking his head. “I didn’t say it was without value. I know it has value.”
“You didn’t say it, but you didn’t have to,” Dan told him. “It’s easy to say the paper has value. But you don’t feel that inside, where it counts.”
Wyatt met his eyes, then slowly nodded. “Maybe I don’t. It’s not for me,” he repeated again. “I need to travel, see things. I can’t sit here every day, staring out at that harbor, feeling like I’m missing out.”
“You will feel that way at first. I felt the same way when I took over,” Dan confessed. “But after a while you get used to it. You get involved with the paper, lost in it. It becomes part of you. Then you get to the point where you wouldn’t give it up, even if you had the chance. Believe me, it happens. I had this same exact conversation with my father.”
“You don’t understand. I didn’t think you would,” Wyatt said sadly. “In time, though, I hope you’ll see that I’m doing the right thing.”
“Doing the right thing? What do you mean?” Dan asked, feeling panicked.
“I’m going back to L.A. I spoke to my old boss. There’s an opening there for me. I can go back to the Times.”
“You can’t go back to the Times. You’re staying here. You’re running the Messenger,” Dan insisted. He was shouting now, but he couldn’t help it.
Wyatt didn’t answer. He looked down at his desk, then rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Look, it’s late. We haven’t even sent the paper to the printer, yet. Let’s talk about this more tomorrow,” he suggested.
“As if I could sleep for five minutes tonight, after you’ve dumped this news on me?” Dan took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. His leg was hurting him something fierce. He knew he’d been up on his feet too long today.
Still, he couldn’t sit down. Restlessly, he paced in front of Wyatt’s desk.
“Look, maybe I made a wrong move coming here this week. I butted in, and I shouldn’t have done that. It’s your show now. You run this place however you want to. I’m going to start packing tomorrow and get out. That’s it. No more advice,” he promised. “Just an occasional postcard.”
“Dad, I told you before. It wasn’t the advice—though there has been way too much of it,” Wyatt agreed. “I’m trying to be honest with you. Even if you leave tomorrow, I’m not taking over. You’ll have to make other arrangements. Maybe Lindsay would do it for a while.”
“Lindsay? What are you talking about? I’m not going to give the paper to Lindsay. She’s not even in the business!”
“Maybe not, but she’s a quick study from what I’ve seen,” Wyatt remarked. “The point is, I’ve accepted this job offer and I’m going back to California. I can stay a few more days if you need me,” he offered.
Suddenly, Dan felt as if the fog had lifted, and he could finally see Wyatt clearly. Nothing he could say to his son was going to change his mind.
He let out a long, painful breath, unable to even look at his son. “All right. I got the message. Why don’t you just leave now then?” he said in a low, angry voice. “I can get the paper out, no problem. I can do it in my sleep, remember?”
“Dad, come
on. I didn’t mean it that way—” Wyatt came to his feet and looked at his father. “I’m sorry I said that.”
“I know what you meant,” Dan said. “You want out. There’s the door. You don’t have to bother coming back here anymore. I don’t see the point.”
Wyatt’s face filled with emotion as he met Dan’s gaze. For a moment he looked as if he were going to say something more. Instead, he grabbed his coat from the stand behind the desk, nearly knocking it over in the process, and stalked out.
Dan didn’t watch him go, but he heard the door to the street slam shut with a thud, making everything in the still, silent office tremble for a second—including his heart.
“WHEN IS HE LEAVING?” EMILY ASKED.
“Tonight. That ridiculous little car of his needs a tune-up before he tries to drive it cross-country. I just hope he makes it in that thing. I told him he didn’t have to rush off like this, but maybe it’s better not to drag it out.” Dan sighed and stared out at the water.
Emily had been surprised that morning when he called and asked if she wanted to meet at the beach for a walk. They had both more or less retreated to their separate corners after New Year’s Eve. But they were, above all, friends, and she could tell from his voice that something was bothering him. She’d never expected this. She could see that Dan still couldn’t quite believe it.
“I know it seems awful right now,” she said. “But if Wyatt is really unhappy, then maybe it’s for the best. You wouldn’t want him to stay here feeling miserable, just because he felt he had to.”
“No, I suppose it’s better for me to feel miserable. I’m the parent, after all.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” Emily said.
“I know. I’m just a mess today. I’m sorry,” he apologized. He took her hand, and they started walking again.
Dan seemed lost in thought, and Emily wondered if she should say anything more. So far, nothing she’d said seemed to have much effect. Dan could be so narrow-minded sometimes. Once he’d fixed his mind on something, he couldn’t seem to admit to any other possibility.
The beach was beautiful today, and though the air was cold, there was very little wind, so it wasn’t hard walking. The sky was a startling deep shade of blue, and the blue-green waves rolled in long and flat along the shoreline. Far up on the sand, clumps of icy snow clung to a fringe of seaweed and driftwood.
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