Seven
Nadine barely had time to think about Brent’s offer, because she went straight from the café to a chaotic newsroom dealing with reports of a potential police standoff with a domestic terrorist north of Saskatoon. Luckily, they’d been able to disarm the man, and the newsroom went off to write stories that weren’t about mass murder.
Raj in particular looked vastly relieved. “They told me for large-scale tragedies, I’m part of the advance team,” he whispered to her. “I wanted to be in the sports department, for God’s sake. I thought they’d pay me to go togames. Did anyone in the world grow up wanting to do this? I want to meet the kid who told their parents their dream was to run the obituary section instead of being an astronaut.” He paused. “Never mind. I don’t want to meet that kid at all.”
By hour six of her shift, everyone but the cleaning staff had left, and Nadine had worked through enough of her tasks to feel she deserved a break. Pulling up Dot Voline’s obituary, she read it over again. The woman was right. It was dreary, and so far nothing she’d learned of Voline was dull. That was theHerald’s standard model, though, as set out by the previous editor, then continued by Nadine and Raj.
She closed the file, feeling as if she’d failed Dot Voline twice. First by running it when she was alive, second by allowing this memorial to carry none of her personality.
When Nadine had taken the obit job, she’d been too caught up in her own problems to do much research into what it would entail. Since she’d been tossed in with almost no training, she’d focused on reading theHerald’s archive to get a sense of what was expected. It had taken her time to figure out the hierarchy and processes of obituary options, from the death notices, usually paid for by families and run through the advertising department, to the editorial obituaries undertaken by Nadine and her freelancers if the deceased had enough public significance. Could she have done more while she was editor? Possibly, but it was too late now. Raj wouldn’t be impressed if she stuck her nose back in.
With a faint feeling of regret, Nadine decided it was time for coffee. The motion-activated lights clicked on with a disturbing crackle as she strolled through the rows of empty desks.
She wished her career had started back in the days of typewriters and telex machines, when the office combined a lively mix of chatter and the noise of work. Even on busy days—and those were rare as so many people worked from home—theHeraldretained the faint sense of a monastery, with soft typing and low-voiced conversations taking place through headsets. Most people wore gigantic headphones. Apparently the travel editor, who saved his expansive commentary for his stories and did his best to avoid conversation with his colleagues, had found mushrooms growing in his ears from wearing earbuds too often.
The place was one zombie away from being a horror movie, and she was almost grateful to arrive in the kitchen unbitten. She collected the various pods for a vanilla spice latte and devoted the necessary time cajoling the machine into making actual coffee instead of simply sputtering out coffee-adjacent hot water. Then she opened her texts. Her mother’s daily check in was easily dealt with, and so was Lisanne’s brief mention of a new lead for her super awesome huge project.
The next one was from Wes. How did he get her number? Scrolling up, she saw the last message was from almost a decade ago, organizing a location to meet for one of their school assignments. She hadn’t known her phone kept texts for that long.
She slapped the coffee machine to get it brewing again and reread Wes’s note.We should set some ground rules before the weekend.
Before they’d left Brent, the three had negotiated a time for their first meeting with Dot Voline and had settled on Sunday, since it was the only day Nadine and Wes had off in common. It had immediately become the thing Nadine was most looking forward to in the world.
Nadine considered Wes’s text. She wasn’t opposed to ground rules but felt a faint flare of irritation that she hadn’t taken the initiative in setting them. Regardless of what Wes thought, this story was rightfully hers. She was the lead.
Like telling someone you werejustabout to call them, it was too transparent an attempt to save face if she replied withI was going to talk to you about that. Instead she wrote back,What kind of rules?
Rules of engagement, Wes typed.
Like combatants in a war?
If that’s how you see it. I prefer to think of it as starting together in harmony.
She glared at the screen, feeling as if he’d bested her by being a better and less suspicious person, although he’d been the one to suggest limits in the first place. She didn’t trust him either, but at least she had reason to. He was snaky, as he’d proven all the times he’d gotten the better of her. Intellectually, she understood it was part of the job, but that didn’t make the impact of seeing his name on a story she’d considered hers any easier. Trusting Wes with Dot Voline would be like a frog trusting a scorpion. It was every reporter for themselves.
I propose that neither of us is allowed to contact Voline or her nephew alone, he continued.
She couldn’t let him think he was ahead of her.That was on my listtoo, she lied.I also want us to keep all information we find in a central location.
Wes immediately sent a link to a shared document, and she took an aggressive sip of coffee that would have burned her mouth if the machine heated anything past lukewarm. He had a doc.Sheshould have had a doc ready. Wes was winning. Unbearable. She usually worked harder to beat Wes when he was around, but they hadn’t been intersecting as often with his job in Lifestyle. She had to get her edge back.
Another question came before she could retaliate by one-upping him.Does the Herald know you’re doing this?
Nadine hesitated. TheHeraldwouldn’t be pleased if they found out she’d been acting on her own. She could lie, but she had a feeling he knew the answer. It would be easier to be straight from the beginning as well as give the impression that she was confident in what she was doing.
No. Does the Spear?
Wes’s answer came right away.No.
Are you going to tell them?That was the question, wasn’t it? If Wes told his editor, Nadine would be under pressure to tell her own, just in case word got out she was involved.
Like before, the message was short.No. Another came through.At least not if you don’t. Will you?
Not planning to, she wrote back.
Then my next ground rule is that neither of us can go to our editors without a discussion on what we’re doing with the story.
This was reasonable but…Do we need to agree with the other person? Like, if I want to run what we have and you say no, what happens?
