He could hear her clicking heels down the hall, percussing in his spinning head.It can’t be over. Go after her. Tell her again that you love her. Don’t let her go.
But his feet wouldn’t move. He’d done that before, chased after Karen, who in the end didn’t want him either. They dated for three years in college, and he’d been so sure she was the one for him. Just like he’d been sure about Jade.
Seb plopped down on his chair and leaned his elbows on the desk, his head drooping. He was the guy who didn’t like to be hurried or rushed, and then he prematurely and inexplicably voiced his love to Jade. While he blamed Karen for breaking his heart, in hindsight she wasn’t the only one at fault. When he finally came around to wanting to marry her, she had moved on to someone else.
Now Jade was moving on too. He was a loser either way.
He could try talking to her again. Convince her to stay. But what would be the point? If she wanted to be with him, she wouldn’t take a job hundreds of miles away. She didn’t even ask him to go with her. He was truly confused by that, since he thought—felt— they’d been growing closer during their short relationship, even before that amazing kiss.
“Your girl picker’s broken.”Evelyn Margot’s words entered his brain. She’d said that after Karen had dumped him, and considering his high school girlfriend had kicked him to the curb before graduation, his little sister might be right. He’d also been completely wrong about Jade. His own emotions too. Minutes ago, he’d been so sure he was in love with her. Now he never wanted to see her again.
His logical brain kicked into gear, instantly hardening his feelings. Fine. In fact, better than fine. She had done him a favor by ending things before they got too deep. He was the idiot who had read more into theircasualrelationship. He wasn’t going to spend years moping over her like he had Karen. Jade Smith wasn’t worth it.
Chapter 1
Clementine, Arkansas
2004
Seb glanced at his watch. Three o’clock and Haskell Panchak wasn’t here yet. It figured. Clementine’s earnest, friendly, and mostly capable mayor was terrible with time and deadlines. More than once he’d had to nudge the man to get his monthly column done and turned in beforeThe Clementine Timeswent to press. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Seb was having a hard enough time getting local content for the once daily newspaper that was now a biweekly publication that went out on Mondays and Thursdays. If circulation and advertising didn’t change for the better, he would soon have to go to just Mondays.
But he didn’t want to think about that now. Instead, he observed the cast of characters sitting at the long conference table inThe Times’s conference room. They were all waiting on Panchak’s arrival. Or Pancake, as Seb had christened him in one of his columns a couple of years ago. It was a joke at the time that ended up a part of Clementonian vernacular, much to the politician’s consternation.
There were Cletus and Paul, cousins who were as good ol’ boy as any two guys could get and had workedThe Times’s press for thirty years. They typically didn’t attend staff meetings, but Seb had invited them to this one. Across the table from them was his sister, Evelyn Margot—his advertising manager who also doubled doing layout and graphic design. Next to her was Flora Fisher,The Times’s bookkeeper, who had no idea what was in store for her as soon as Pancake arrived, and she was talking to Isaiah Boston, the sports beat reporter who also picked up breaking news.
Sitting next to Seb was Tyler Hernandez, an eighteen-year-old kid who was graduating from Clementine High next week but had been working for Seb for two years. Tyler reminded Seb of himself when he was younger—eager, willing to do the most menial of the jobs while also showing an aptitude for taking on more responsibility. Right now he was the unofficial circulation manager, and the only reason he was unofficial was because Seb couldn’t afford to pay him an official salary. At best he’d been able to give him a bonus Christmas ham from the Piggly Wiggly, the nearest grocery store, last year. But Tyler didn’t mind the pay or the measly ham, and he was quickly turning into Seb’s right-hand man, much like Seb had been for Buford.
Seb shifted his gaze to the modest conference room that hadn’t changed since the early seventies, complete with a picture of Buford and his wife, Glenda, on the opposite wall. It wasn’t a large photo or a staged one. Just the two of them sitting on their patio at their cabin thirty minutes outside Clementine. It was the last picture of them together, taken a couple of years after Seb had boughtThe Times, two months after Buford first offered it to him, and for the one dollar the man had promised.
It wasn’t often that Seb turned wistful, and maybe it was due to the real reason they’d all gathered in the conference room, butseeing Buford and Glenda during happier times tugged on his heartstrings. Little did anyone know that shortly after the picture was taken, and only two-and-a-half years into their retirement, the unthinkable would happen—a deadly car crash that took both their lives. The grieving process had been hard, but he’d been stoic and helped his staff get through it. But there were times, like now, that he wanted Buford to be here. He and Glendashouldbe here.
“Sorry I’m late.” Pancake swooshed into the room, the three strands on top of his balding head hanging on for dear life as he took his seat on the other side of Evelyn. Grateful for the respite from his melancholy thoughts, even though he was irritated by the mayor’s tardiness, Seb stood up. “Now that everyone’s here,” he said, giving Pancake a stern look, “we can start the meeting.”
Pancake shifted in his seat.
“Ignore him, Haskell,” Evelyn said in an exaggerated whisper. “He’s just being his usual crabby self.”
“No, he’s right. I was late. I had a meeting with the Clementine Historical Society, and we ran behind. My apologies.”
Considering the historical society was comprised of five women in their sixties and seventies who were all compulsive talkers and stealth gossipers, Panchak could be forgiven his tardiness. “No problem,” Seb said, softening his stance. “Okay, a quick state of the union and we’ll be on our way. The Memorial Day Hoedown is three weeks away.” As far as Seb knew, Clementine was the only town that held a hoedown in the spring instead of fall, which elicited questions from non-Clementonians every year. He’d always liked the originality. “I want everything covered before the event. Evelyn, what’s the advertising status?”
She flipped through her spiral notebook. “We’ve got a general ad going out this week, and next week three of the vendors whowill be there have taken out small—emphasis onsmall—ads. I’m working on filling our empty spots in the next two issues.”
While he wished those spots were already full, he knew she would do her best to complete the job. If not, she’d come up with some drawings and cartoon blocks to fill the empty space, but it would be nice to earn some needed funds from ads.
He asked Pancake for more info on the hoedown and the progress being made to get everything in place, and the mayor obliged. He then queried Isaiah and Tyler for their reports and assigned both of them to cover the hoedown. Isaiah, always cool and collected, just nodded. But Tyler’s eyes lit up.
“Take plenty of pictures.”
Tyler grinned and pushed up his large round metal glasses. “Yes, sir.”
Ah, enthusiasm. Seb could use some of that.
Evelyn got up from her chair. “I’ll be right back,” she said, giving Seb a small nod.
Showtime. He faked a scowl. “We’re in the middle of a meeting, Evelyn.”
“Cool your jets. I’ll be right back.” She hurried out of the room.
