“Sure do.” He glanced at the MacIntosh. “Bought him that computer over there, thinking he’d appreciate it. He wasn’t interested. I can see you’re not either.”
“My manual typewriter and some good old-fashioned paper are all I need.”
“And that’s one of the reasons Buford liked you. You’re an old soul, Seb. A throwback even. Kinda like myself.” He stood and grinned. “I’d better get back to the house. Viv and me are cake testing this afternoon.” He patted his large stomach. “I ain’t been into all the wedding planning, but today’s gonna be a good day.”
“Sounds like a delicious one too.”
“Sure hope so. Thanks again. I knew I could count on you.”
Bo left, and Seb turned back to his column. He was glad he could help Bo and Viv, although he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of hiring a spoiled kid. If she worked out, though, it would help him and Tyler, at least in the short term until they could find a permanent carrier.
He started typing, only for the door to open again. “Now what?”
“Good morning to you too, bro.” Evelyn Margot paused in the doorway, holding five eight-by-ten pictures of him. She thumbed through them, then showed him the one with a scowl and slid it into the clear frame right outside the door, altering his staff photo to match his current mood. He frowned as she came back in and sat in front of him, placing the rest of the pictures on his desk. “Sorry I’m late.”
“For what?”
“My yearly reminder that you’re not allowed to duck the Sadie Hawkins dance at the hoedown.”
“Not this again. Don’t you have some vendors to call? Some ads to create? A lawn to mow?”
She gave him an annoying smirk, bothering him even more. Her smirk looked like his smirk, and if his smirk annoyed other people as much as her smirk annoyed him—
“Lawn’s mowed, ads will be done by the end of the day, and I’ll make some calls in a bit, so stop dodging the conversation.”
“I don’t duck the dance.” He just made sure he wasn’t available when the time came.
“Quack, quack.” She crossed her legs, clad in flared jeans with a wide belt, her olive T-shirt tucked inside the waistband. “Or should I say, ‘Cluck, cluck’?”
“You’re one to talk. When are you going to tell Haskell how you feel about him?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Not this again.”
He faced the typewriter. “Payback’s a pain, isn’t it? And as much fun as this banal conversation is, I have a column to finish.”
“I need to talk to you about something else.”
He turned to her. “What’s that?”
She pushed a lock of her long brown hair over her shoulder. “Piggly Wiggly doesn’t want to renew their contract.”
Seb groaned. “Why?”
“George wouldn’t say, at least not right away,” Evelyn said, referring to the grocery store’s advertising representative. “But they don’t thinkThe Timeshas a big enough circulation anymore. They’re going to look at more regional advertising instead of local.”
“That’s just great.” The store was one of their biggest accounts.
“Sorry,” she said, her teasing mood completely gone. “I tried to convince him otherwise.”
“I’m sure you did.” Evelyn was a good salesperson, and he had confidence she’d done everything she could to get them to stay. “Would it help if I called them?” He and George were on friendly terms.
Evelyn shook her head. “I mentioned that. George said the decision’s been made.”
Seb sighed and rubbed his forehead. So much for the paper being in the black anytime soon. He did some quick calculations in his head. If he didn’t hire Kalista—Bo would understand—and he and Tyler split the mountain route until Evelyn found another large advertiser, the paper would bleed less money. But that would also give Tyler a third job and Seb would have... He lost track of how many jobs he had. No, they had to hire someone for that route.
There was another thing he could do, but it would take time. Lots of time—something he didn’t have. And even if he had the time, he wasn’t sure he could pull it off again. The sophomore slump was real.
Evelyn took the rest of the pictures off Seb’s desk and stood. “Cheer up, bro. I’m sure we’ll get another advertiser soon.” She left his office.
