“Daddy told me he wants to hang on till the end of the year and officially start his retirement on January first, so at that time I will be taking the reins here at the Journal-Tribune,” she said.
“Gazette,” Whitelaw corrected her softly.
“Yes—Gazette. I’m looking forward to working with each and every one of you.” Earlene smiled as her father patted her arm and folded his hands over his ample belly.
“Well, let’s eat folks!” he beamed.
I cringed as I considered what direction Earlene would take the paper.
“What would be worse?” I asked Duncan as we strolled toward the food-laden table. “A corporate raider who’s never set foot in a newsroom or a spoiled brat who’s daddy owned the paper and who never worked a day in her life?”
“You got me,” he answered. “Right now, though, it seems kind of rude to bemoan her taking over while we’re eating food her daddy bought.”
“True,” I said. After filling our plates, we returned to our seats and the conversation turned to other things. We would have time to complain later—and I knew we’d be doing it a lot.
“So, Kay, how are you feeling?” I asked.
“I wear out pretty quickly, but I’m getting better every day,” she said, picking through her food. “Hopefully on Monday, my assistant can bring some of the more pressing Aurora Development items to the house for me to work on.”
“I’ll bet you were left with a real mess, with those two people shot at your house and everything,” Elizabeth said, tactlessly.
“Elizabeth!” I said sharply. “Thank God I don’t have you dealing with crime victims!”
“I’m just asking what everyone else is thinking,” she said. “So, what are you going to do about that?”
“Well, most of the furniture in those rooms belonged to my mother,” Kay said slowly. “And frankly, it was time for a change.”
“Yes,” Marcus said. “We’re getting all new furniture downstairs. We’re also remodeling the study, where the shootings took place. There is one piece of furniture that belonged to Kay’s father, a partner’s desk, and that will stay, even though it’s got a bullet hole in one side.”
“That bullet, frankly, was a personal gift from Detective Mike Birger and I, for one, am very thankful for it,” Kay said. She leaned against Marcus, who kissed the top of her red hair.
“So what’s going to happen to Rick Starrett?” Elizabeth turned to me.
“He wants to change his plea, Anna Henrickssen told me this morning,” I said. “He’s admitted to the whole story, including letting Rowan take the blame for all the gambling that put him in federal prison. She’s going to try to negotiate with Steve Adolphus for a life sentence. He’d hinted at the death penalty apparently. It’s the lead story for Thursday’s paper. The name Deke suddenly makes sense now, too. Rick was Rowan’s decoy, especially on that video and it sent his brother to prison.”
“Even creepier, he let it happen,” Marcus interjected.
“So did you ever hear why they wanted everybody to believe they weren’t twins?” Graham asked. “I could never get it out of Rick Starrett.”
“I have no idea,” I answered. “For some reason, while their mother was alive, they couldn’t tell the truth without hurting her and they didn’t want to do that. Then after she was gone, they’d already faked Rowan’s death. Family secrets are funny things.”
“And speaking of family secrets…” Duncan whispered in my ear.
“I called him, OK?” I said, loudly. “I turned the job down.”
Everyone around the table was suddenly silent.
“What?” Graham asked.
“Fisher Webb, the president of the hospital, offered me a job last week as head of public relations. I turned it down.”
“You turned it down?” Duncan asked.
“Yes. I turned down the hospital PR job. I’m staying here.”
Everyone turned to Duncan, looking for his reaction. He shrugged, a flummoxed look on his face.
“So she’s staying here, I guess,” he said.
I stood and picked up my piece of pie. “C’mon folks—let’s get back at it. We got a paper to put out.”
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to those who guided me along the way, offering their support, careful criticism and love, and especially to those who just told me to shut up and write. You know who you are.
About the author
Debra Gaskill is an award-winning journalist with more than 20 years experience in newspapers in Ohio. She has an associate’s degree in liberal arts from Thomas Nelson Community College in Hampton, Va., a bachelor’s degree in English and journalism from Wittenberg University and a master of fine arts degree in creative writing from Antioch University.
She and her husband Greg, a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel, reside in Enon, where they raise llamas and alpacas on their farm. They have two adult children and two grandchildren.
She is the author of two other Jubilant Falls novels,
The Major’s Wife, and Barn Burner.
Connect with Debra on her website at www.debragaskillnovels.com or follow her on Twitter at @Debra Gaskill.
Lethal Little Lies (Jubilant Falls Series Book 3) Page 22