Page 66 of Hearts on the Line

“It’ll be okay,” she says, as if she can read my thoughts.

“Yeah.” A heartless chuckle escapes me, and I wipe my own eyes, not hiding my tears.

“I’m an old woman, and I have been hanging on to this newspaper because it’s all I have. Everyone in this town hates me. I’m an easy target.”

“They don’t hate you.”

She holds her hands up. “I annoy everyone.”

“They rely on you,” I say. “News is important, even to small towns.”

“You know as much as I do that advertisers matter more. The news that actually counts is often buried behind a paywall, but I’ve read your stuff,” she counters. “The paper is failing, and I don’t think I can keep up anymore. It was never easy, but now there’s social media and short-form content, and podcasts. Besides, the doctor, well, I don’t like this doctor. He tells me it’s time to find something else, that it’s too stressful.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

Ruth stepping down from the newspaper makes as much sense as… well, it doesn’t. It has to make sense because it’s all there ever was. She started there in her twenties, bought it in her thirties, and is almost in her seventies. It’s her life.

“How would you like a job, Sloane?” Panic must flash across my face because she holds up her hand. “For the summer. I know you’re leaving.”

She says that so matter-of-factly that it kind of catches me by surprise. And I guess I’ve been telling myself that I’m only staying for a little bit, but suddenly, that just feels wrong. I don’t really want to stay, but I don’t want to go either.

“Job doing what?”

“The paper. I want you to be the editor. I have to take the summer off to rest, and I’m supposed to have a string of physical therapy appointments. I’ll figure out what I’m going to do in the fall. Maybe I’ll sell it or try to find someone to run it for me. I don’t trust anyone else, and I know you think I’m a cranky old bitch.”

“I don’t,” I say with a laugh.

Ruth glares at me.

“All right, you hate me,” I say. “You think I was chasing the wrong thing when I left, and you hate me now.”

“You were seventeen,” she says. “When you’re young, all you have are mistakes to make. You can’t live life trying to be perfect.”

She lays her head back against her pillow and closes her eyes. “Oh, these meds make me feel dizzy. I swear they make my lips loose. You might as well ask me about any secrets you want to know. And I know all of them here in Merritt Point.”

“You are being oddly agreeable right now.”

“Don’t tell anyone.” Her eyes pop open on a small laugh.

“Cross my heart.” I grab the menu from the table. “So, what are you going to have for supper tonight?”

“Jell-O.”

“Classic choice, can’t go wrong there. But may I interest you in some steamed chicken breast with brown rice?” I waggle my eyebrows.

“It’s no supper club.”

I drop the menu, my mouth hanging open in surprise. “You know about the supper club?”

“It’s my job to know everything. Ethan has real talent, but he doubts himself. Even with you.”

“Oh, we’re not⁠—”

She waves a hand, cutting me off. But the words stick with me anyway. Even with you. Like I’m supposed to be some source of confidence when I can barely figure out my own life.

Though maybe that’s the thing about Ethan. He doesn’t need me to have it all figured out.

“What do you think, Sloane? The deadlines haven’t changed. You have five days to start the next issue.”