“Look, this week is dead. People only care about the weather, and right now, a certain demographic will only tune in to see your pretty face.”
Why hadn’t I learned how to bartend as a backup? I wished I could quit on the spot like Elizabeth had, but I counted on still having the upper hand. “What are you going to do fire me? I don’t think you have that authority.”
“Shelby might if I told her what I saw in here on Monday?”
I leveled a steely gaze at her. “Try and prove that.”
She exhaled, and I knew I’d won that skirmish. “Just give the people what they want, Evan.”
“I can’t make it snow.”
“You don’t have to. They’ll forget your forecast by Thursday, but we’ll have the eyeballs.”
I needed an exit ramp from this job, but I was feeling boxed in by my past choices. As I studied the weather patterns all afternoon, looking for any evidence that might allow me to ethically do as Lauren was asking, my mind drifted back to the day Elizabeth first showed up, looking all professional cute. I’d been an idiot not to grab her hand and kiss her the first chance I got.
There’d been another day, when she’d stood right there, under the monitor, when I’d known how I felt about her, but I’d fought it like a blind idiot. I could hear her cracking some naughty weather pun, like, “You promised me eight inches.”
Elizabeth’s love language.
That gave me an idea that would probably put my job at risk, but nobody had chastised me a week ago when I did it by accident, and Lauren wanted eyeballs, so maybe…
Just before the top of the hour, I stood before the green screen for the teaser. When the light turned red, I said, “It’s been a cold, dry weekend, but it’s about to get a whole lot wetter with a potential for snow in the air for much of the area. Are you ready for eight inches?”
The camera cut off as we rolled to commercial, and I glanced over to make sure Sandra’s jaw hung slack before heading back to my office. I was skirting some very ethical lines, banking on Elizabeth tuning in. It would really suck to get fired without at least making her laugh.
Thankfully, when it was time for the actual weather forecast, Sandra couldn’t resist teeing me up. “So Evan, we’re all excited about the impending snow. Will we really get eight inches?”
I grinned and turned to face the camera as I answered. “Well, Sandra. I hate to disappoint everyone with an over-exaggeration, but honestly even six inches can seem like a whole lot more, depending on the quality of the snowfall, of course.”
Behind me the green screen showed nothing, but I glanced at the map on the floor and gestured toward what I knew would be the higher elevations. “In the mountain region, we can expect significant accumulation beginning Wednesday evening, possibly up to nine inches. You will definitely want to plan for that possibility. Down below, if the conditions are right”—I ran my hands along the curve near Afton, smooth and deliberately slow—“the surge will penetrate the valley and slide right into Hooville, bringing us upwards of six inches. However, there’s been steady wind resistance which would certainly stall the pressure system.”
The five-day forecast appeared on my monitor, so I changed my patter to the affable airline pilot voice. “We’re looking at temperatures holding steady, with a wintry mix tomorrow into Wednesday. Then on Thursday, we may see snowfall anywhere between two to six inches which might not be the full eight-inches you were hoping for Sandra, but either way, you can be sure you’ll be getting wet.”
Sandra double blinked, “Well, I guess we should appreciate it whatever the size.”
“You should definitely take the time to enjoy it because this weather will be in and out by the weekend, leaving us with just a taste of the long, hard winter to come.”
Kent said, “I certainly do love a quickie,” then turning to Sandra, he added, “The first snow of the season is fun, but then I never want to see it again.”
And just like that, he gave himself cover, and I hoped all of us managed to skirt by without an FCC violation or the complaints of hundreds of concerned mothers.
I went back to my office and waited, hunkered down for the impending storm, but five minutes passed, then ten, and neither Lauren nor Shelby darkened my doorway. Was it possible that sounded like every other newscast to them? Was that how every newscast sounded to everyone?
After enough time had lapsed I didn’t feel like it would jinx anything, I reached for my phone, hoping to find at least one notification. I had three.
One was a text from Bas, nothing but snowflake, eggplant, and squirt emojis. I exhaled the stress I’d been holding in. At least someone got the joke.
The second was a text from Elizabeth. I closed my eyes before I opened it, bracing for anything other than what I hoped for. But when I read it, a grin broke out across my face.You were very humble with your prediction. Next time, tell Sandra to mind her own business. Those eight inches are mine.
The third was an email from Shelby.Evan, please come see me at your earliest convenience tomorrow. Shelby.
Yikes. Well, if I was about to lose my job, at least it had been worth it. Phase one of my three-prong attack was a success. I prayed it meant I was on my way to winning back Elizabeth’s friendship.
Chapter Thirty-five
Elizabeth
“Shall we give over and drown? Have you a mind to sink?”
