Eva's Deadline

by Linda Hope Lee

  Mark closed the door and sat in his chair. Although he had his speech all planned, he decided to let her speak first.

  “I’m sorry I interrupted you this morning,” she said in a voice that sounded sincere.

  “Not your fault, April. I’m glad we made this appointment, though, because we need to talk.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “You don’t want me to do the Police Beat anymore?”

  He picked up the newspaper’s current issue from his desk and opened it to the Police Beat column, which took up the top half of a page. “Of course I do. You’re doing a fine job with the column. Good writing, good organization…” He put down the paper and cleared his throat. “April, we’ve talked before about our relationship—yours and mine—and that it’s strictly professional.”

  Defiance lit her eyes. “No. We went out on a date. To dinner.”

  Mark took a deep breath, summoning all his patience. “Yes, we had dinner together, once. That was after we’d met—by chance, let me remind you—at the concert on the beach, and I invited you to join me at Charlie’s.”

  “We stayed a long time talking.”

  “Yes, we did. Mostly about the newspaper, as I recall.”

  “I thought you liked me.”

  “I do like you, April. You are a valued employee and a good friend to my daughter.”

  April leaned forward. “You liked me in a personal way—until she came.”

  “My feelings for you are exactly the same as they’ve been from the beginning. We are colleagues. That’s all.”

  April’s lips twisted as though she’d tasted something sour. “No, that isn’t all. Everything was fine until she came. I thought we were going to buy her out. We started that fund.”

  Mark waved a hand. “I don’t see that happening. We have only a few hundred dollars so far. Eva’s share is worth much, much more than that.”

  “Have you tried to get a loan yet?”

  “I’ll let you all know if and when that comes about.”

  “I bet you haven’t even tried. I bet you’re hoping that you and she—”

  “April, have you ever thought you might be happier working someplace else?”

  “Are you trying to fire me?” Her nostrils flared.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I’m trying to find a solution to your unhappiness. I’m thinking that as long as you work here, you’ll be unhappy.”

  April stuck out her chin. “I’ll be fine as soon as she leaves.”

  *

  “GREAT SHOW,” EVA TOLD the girls gathered around her. They’d just finished the high school’s Spring Fashion Show and were assembled backstage. “And I have a surprise for you.” Eva exchanged a wink with Fran Oliver, who looked up from checking off items on her clipboard. “The participating stores are donating one outfit for each of you to keep. How about that?”

  A cheer went up. “Thank you, Ms. Sinclair! You’re the best!”

  Melanie danced around her. “Can we do it again next year, Ms. Sinclair?”

  “What do you think, Fran?” Eva looked to the teacher.

  “I don’t see why not,” Fran said, making a note on her list.

  “Mrs. Oliver and I will work on it,” Eva told them. “Go pick out your outfits.”

  Fran came to stand beside Eva, and together they watched the chattering girls disappear into the dressing rooms.

  “They’re a great bunch, aren’t they?” Fran said.

  Eva nodded. “They are. And next year’s show will be even better. I’d like to see the set have more props. I’ll talk to the drama department about that. And maybe a few more door prizes, especially if we can get a couple more sponsors.” She stopped and studied Fran. “What? Why are you giving me an odd look?”

  “I’m wondering if I’m hearing right. You’ll be here in the fall? That’s great.” She put her clipboard on a nearby table and reached out to give Eva a hug. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re staying.”

  Eva drew away. “Wait a minute. No, I’m still leaving in June.”

  Fran’s eyes widened. “Are you? I could swear you were planning next fall’s show.”

  “I was just making plans for whoever takes over.”

  Fran’s mouth turned down. “Which will be no one. None of us has the time, or the expertise, or the contacts. It’s your baby, Eva.”

  Eva held up a hand. “No, Fran, I’m not staying.”

  *

  “HOW ARE YOU coming with ShopRite’s flyers, April?” Eva rounded the counter and approached April’s desk.

  April grabbed another sheet from the stack of flyers. She folded it, pressing the crease with her fingers. “I’m working as fast as I can,” she grumbled.

  April’s hair hid her profile, but Eva could imagine the frown, the pouting lips. She’d seen them often enough over the past eleven months.

  “I know you are, and I know the flyers were late being delivered. But Cody will be bringing in the new edition any minute now, and if we want to be on time for our distributors—”

  “I know what time Cody brings the paper.”

  Eva sighed. Always so difficult. Then she reminded herself that in a few more weeks she would be free of April’s surly glances and her petulant tone. Every job had its personality clashes, but this one with April had strained Eva’s patience to the limit.

  She was about to turn away when April said, “He doesn’t really want you.”

  Her voice was so low that Eva thought she was talking to herself. On the off chance that she wasn’t, Eva tipped her head in April’s direction and said, “Beg your pardon?”

  “It’s the newspaper he wants, not you.”

  Eva said nothing. She waited.

  “We started a fund to buy you out, but we couldn’t raise enough money. So now he’s after you. He doesn’t want to work with Boyd Carlstrom. None of us does.”

  Still, Eva remained silent.

  “I’m willing to take second place, but I don’t think you are, Eva. No, you want to be number one. Well, you’re not.”

  All this was said without April losing the rhythm of folding the flyers or raising her head to see Eva’s reaction.

  Under other circumstances, Eva would address this problem, either here at April’s desk or by calling April into her cubicle for a private conversation. But with her remaining time in Willow Beach so short, she’d let the matter go.

  As though she’d heard nothing, she said, “Please let me know if you need more flyers, April. I thought I brought you the correct number, but I may have counted wrong.”

  “I know where to get more if I need them.”

  *

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE the timing,” Eva said over the phone to Susan. “You’re getting engaged and I’m coming back to Seattle all in the same month.”

  She sat in her apartment on the maroon sofa, having just checked off another day on her calendar.

  “And I can’t believe Greg finally proposed—I’m on cloud nine,” Susan said. “And don’t forget, I want you to be my maid of honor.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. When is the wedding?”

  “The wedding. Um, I’m not sure. Greg wants to be more secure in his job before we tie the knot.”

  Hearing the hesitation in her friend’s voice, Eva said, “Susan, are you sure everything’s okay with you and Greg?”

  “Of course. I’m deliriously happy.”

  “So where will you live in the meantime? You could stay on in my condo with me. I’m sure we’d get along.”

  “Thanks, Eva, but I’ve already rented an apartment not too far from here. We’ll be neighbors.”

  “I’ll look forward to that. I’ll soon be free at last and coming home. If only I knew what I was going to do for a living.”

  “What about the novel you said you were writing?”

  Eva glanced at her kitchen table, where her computer sat. Next to it was a stack of pages that she’d printed out to proofread. “I’m still working on it and hope to publish it, but I need a steady
income in the meantime.”

  “But you’re selling your half of the Herald. And when your dad’s house sells, you’ll have that money.”

  “Yes, but the money won’t last forever. Besides, I want to work.”

  Susan remained silent a moment, and Eva wondered if she were still thinking about her own situation. But then, in a conspiratorial tone, she said, “I shouldn’t tell you, but there’s a rumor around the office that you might be getting a phone call from James.”

  “What about? Is there an opening at the magazine?” Eva gripped the phone. “I’d come back as copyeditor—anything to work for Seattle’s Best again.”

  “Sorry, hon, that’s all you’ll hear from me. Gotta go now.”

  Eva sat there, stunned by Susan’s news. She was to expect a call from her old boss, James. With a job offer? What else could he want to talk to her about? But, no, she couldn’t be that lucky.

  When two days passed without a call, either at home or at work, she decided Susan had been misinformed. She finished writing her résumé and researched headhunters.

  Then, just before she left the office Wednesday afternoon, James phoned. They exchanged a few general comments, and then he said in his typically casual tone, “Got a proposition for you. How’d you like to come back to work for us?”

  “More than anything!”

  “Maybe you’d better hear the rest of the deal first. You’d be coming back as a staff writer, same as when you left. Margo Janovich is firmly entrenched as assistant editor. But Hannah Davis, who’s on maternity leave, has decided to quit and become a full-time mom, which leaves an opening we need filled.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Wonderful. We’ll be happy to have you back.”

  Eva hung up with a smile on her face. True, the position wasn’t the one she’d wanted, but at least she was back in the game.

  *

  “I’VE ADDED ALL my Our Town files to June’s,” Eva told Mark a week later, “so that the next person who writes the column will have them for review.”

  She sat in his office, as she had so many times during the past year. But this time, instead of making plans for the next issue of the Herald, she was making plans to leave.

  Mark mumbled something she couldn’t make out. He was glued to his computer screen, or appeared to be, and she didn’t know whether he was even listening.

  “I’ll clean out my desk…”

  Mark waved a hand. “I don’t need to hear all the details, Eva. I bet when you get done cleaning, all traces of you will be gone, and we won’t even know you’ve been here.”

  “You don’t have to be rude about it.”

  He went back to his reading. She sat there a moment, and when he didn’t say anything more or even look up, she said, “Okay, I’ll get back to work.”

  “You do that, Eva.”

  That evening, Eva started packing her belongings in preparation for her move back to Seattle. She’d finished cleaning out Seb’s house and had contacted Morgan’s Realty to handle the sale. Time to take a break. She gazed out the window. Now that it was June, the days were getting longer. A jog on the beach sounded good. This might be her last opportunity.

  The weather wasn’t quite warm enough for shorts, so she pulled on a pair of sweats. She tied a scarf around her head, buckled on her waist pouch and headed out. She hadn’t been on the beach more than five minutes when she recalled that first jog she’d taken—and meeting Mark. A lump rose in Eva’s throat. What was that all about?

  She started off, running along the sand. Seagulls swooped. Clouds drifted across the sky. Waves broke on the shore. She tried to focus on her upcoming move to Seattle, but her thoughts refused to anchor here, always drifting back to Willow Beach—and Mark.

  About a mile down the beach, she became aware of someone running behind her. The runner caught up, but instead of passing, he matched her stride. She glanced over.

  Mark.

  “What are…you doing here?”

  “Running…same as…you.”

  She expected him to sprint ahead, but he stayed by her side. They ran for a while, neither saying anything, their rhythm perfectly in sync. Then, about a mile later, he grasped her elbow and pointed toward the dunes, where driftwood and logs lined the beach. “Let’s take a break.”

  “I…” Did she really want to spend time with him? “All right, but five minutes is all I can spare.”

  “Busy lady.”

  They did their cool-down stretches and then sat on a log facing the horizon.

  Without looking at her, he said, “Remember that first night when we met each other jogging, and we sat like this to watch the sunset?”

  She nodded. There had been other jogs together, not many and none like that one. She sighed. “I will miss the beach.”

  “I’ll miss you.” His voice was low and husky.

  “Mark, don’t…”

  He turned toward her. “Eva, listen, I don’t want you to leave.”

  “Why not?”

  “We make a good team.”

  “At the newspaper.”

  “Yes. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I don’t believe you want to leave, either. You like being here, and you like working for the Herald.”

  She gave a short, cynical laugh. “You’re out of your mind.”

  “No, no, listen to me. You say you can’t live here anymore because of the painful memories. But I think it’s because you feel guilty. You think you’re responsible for Brett’s death. You told me that yourself. But, Eva, you’re not responsible. You didn’t force him to take you out in the boat. He could have said no, no matter how much you begged. You didn’t cause the storm to come up. You didn’t make him take off his life jacket.”

  “We’ve already been through this. I don’t want—”

  “For years you’ve been living in this psychological prison. If you give up all the guilt, the pain will go away. And then you’d be able to accept that Willow Beach is where you want to be. You like it here. I know you do. You liked working with the high-school students, and you liked writing more serious stuff.”

  Eva stared at him, her pulse pounding. “Who do you think you are—my psychiatrist? What right do you have to tell me what to do to ‘get rid of my pain,’ as you call it? You aren’t me. You didn’t live through what I did. How can you possibly know what I really want?”

  He drew back. “I’m just trying to help.”

  She threw up her hands. “I didn’t ask for your help. I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. And if you want to help someone, you might look at yourself first.”

  His eyes took on a wary look. “What do you mean?”

  “That house of yours, that shrine to your wife. What’s that all about if not guilt? Or are all those lacy doilies and fake flowers your idea of tasteful decor? Talk about a psychological prison.”

  Anger flared in his eyes.. “I’ve kept everything of Diane’s for Sasha’s sake. I don’t want her to forget her mother. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Are you sure it’s just for Sasha? Or is it for yourself? What about your guilt?”

  “We’re not talking about me. This is about you.”

  “No, Mark. You may be fooling yourself, but you’re not fooling me. This is about you. Or, maybe I should say, it’s all about the Herald. Because that’s the bottom line, isn’t it?”

  Mark stared down at his feet, twisting his shoes deeper into the sand. She was suddenly aware that while they’d been talking the sun had almost disappeared into the sea. Oh, there it went, gone for another day. It wasn’t the spectacular show they’d witnessed on that first night. Tonight’s sunset was quick—and final.

  Gripping the log for support, Eva stood. She gazed down at Mark, who had picked up a stick and was tracing patterns in the sand. His jaw was set, his brow furrowed. She reached out a hand, intending to touch his shoulder. Why, she wasn’t sure. She changed her mind and drew back.

  “I’m going on alone,” she sai
d and took off across the sand, heading for the hard-packed shore.

  She half expected him to follow her. But he didn’t. That was just as well. Then she would have had to hide her tears.

  *

  THE FOLLOWING DAY at the newspaper office, Eva’s phone rang. She put down the last Seattle’s Best cover she’d just removed from her wall and picked up the receiver.

  Boyd Carlstrom’s deep voice rumbled in her ear. “Hey, Eva.”

  “Boyd. What can I do for you?” Her question was a formality, though, because she knew why he was calling.

  “I thought you might be ready for some serious discussion.”

  “As a matter of fact, I would like to talk to you.”

  “Good, good. You free for lunch today?”

  Eva barely glanced at her calendar before replying, “I am.”

  “Meet you at the Beach Café at twelve-thirty.”

  “See you there, Boyd.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “SO THAT’S THE WAY it is.” Mark finished his speech and looked around the room at his faithful staff. “Eva will be leaving next week, when her year is up.”

  “And she’s selling her share to Boyd Carlstrom?” Dora put down her knitting and frowned at Mark.

  “I’m sure she is.” Especially after the sorry scene on the beach the other evening. Man, he’d screwed up. What had he been thinking to confront her like that?

  “What was it like when Boyd was here before, Dora?” Bernie asked.

  Dora looped yarn around her knitting needle. “He expected everything to be done his way, no compromises. And I’m not sure he has the same interest in news that Seb had.”

  Cody frowned. “Maybe this is the time for me to go back to the U and get my degree.”

  Bernie rubbed his chin. “Maybe I should move to California. Maria’s been wanting to live near her parents.”

  “Josh has been after me for years to retire.” Dora made another stitch, then looked up at Mark. “But we’d be deserting you.” She turned to April, who sat beside her without saying a word the entire time. “What do you think, April?”

  April stared at her hands in her lap. “If Mark stays, I’ll stay.”

  Dora put her arm around April’s shoulder. “Oh, honey, you’re so loyal.”