Joanna:
I understand, but keep it in mind, please.
“Everything all right?” Emery looked up to see Caleb, dressed in nice-fitting jeans, a long-sleeved polo, and his hair loose about his face. “Are you waiting for the bus to the future?” He nodded at the machine.
She grinned and tucked her phone into her bag. “Don’t look now, but we’re in the future of our past.”
“‘We’re in the future of our past.’” Caleb leaned against the other side of the machine. “Nice, Quinn. Very poetic. Did you read that somewhere or make it up on the spot?”
“Just made it up.” She snapped her fingers. “I’m that good.”
“So,” he said, giving her a Rhett Butler smirk, “you come here often?”
She laughed. “Never. Come on, buy me a hot dog.”
Down the thoroughfare, he shielded her from the crowd, taking all of her hits, blocking her from folks who spent too much time at the beer truck.
“Beer and carnival rides do not go together,” Caleb said, shoving a large teetering man aside.
“Write me a letter to the editor on it.” Emery ducked behind Caleb to avoid a child wielding a large stick of cotton candy. “Letters to the editor are the voice of the community. Anyone can submit one. That’s the hallmark of theGazette.”
“To be microlocal, right?”
“You remembered—and such a big word too.”
“Keep talking smack, Quinn. Keep talking.” Caleb put his arm around her, guiding her through an angry crowd arguing about cutting in line at the pony ride. “How about I write about how architecture and politics don’t go together?”
“I’ll expect it in my inbox this week.” She curved into him to avoid a band of teens walking five abreast. “Are you here alone? Where’s your nephew?”
“Wandering around with my folks. They wanted to bring himafter church. But I know for a fact Dad is useless without his Sunday afternoon nap.”
“If you need to meet up with them—”
“Nope, I don’t.” She like the way he looked at her. Only today she didn’t feel like melting. She felt beautiful.
“Any updates from the town council meeting?” she said.
“No, but I’ve been working on designs for the Org. Homestead among other things. Emery, if we can get the funds, not only will we preserve a piece of our founding but we’ll have housing for seniors, singles, and young families. The councilmembers from the West End aren’t thinking about everyday citizens.”
“I love that, but there’s only twelve houses, Caleb.”
“True, but they are the very first houses in Sea Blue Beach. And it’s a start for preservation. A nod toward affordable housing.”
When they arrived at the hot dog stand, Caleb suggested she find a table while he ordered. She tried to hand him some money, but he refused.
She snagged a spot under a giant oak with swaying Spanish moss, near the Super Himalaya ride blasting Boston’s “More Than a Feeling.”
She was checking her phone for more texts from QuinnFam when he arrived with their baskets of food and a caddy of drinks.
“You looked pensive by the Serendiporama.” He passed over a basket with a hot dog and fries.
“My family was texting. My sister found her wedding dress, and Joanna, her mom, wants me to come to her bridal shower in March. But it’s too soon. I’m just getting settled here. And the weekend is all-hands-on-deck for the Sunday edition.”
She was exaggerating a little bit. Gayle had all the ads designed by Thursday afternoon. Junie had the pagination done by Saturday morning. All Rex or Emery had to do was hit a couple of keys to flow the final stories. Jane only came into the officefor the staff meeting. Rex was training Emery on theGazette’s production process and Junie was teaching her to paginate. Even Tobias, the janitor, gave her an overview of his chores.
“I get it,” Caleb said. “I’d probably feel the same way.” He hoisted his soda cup. “Here’s to your success of today’sSunday Gazette.”
She tapped her cup with Caleb’s. “I know it was only four pages, but they weremyfour pages as editor-in-chief.” She wiped a bit of mustard from her hand. “I shouldn’t be, but I’m proud of it.”
