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“He’s busy with the paper.”
“There’s time to stop in now and say hello if you want. I’ll be talking to the florist, so you might as well.”
Steffie was tempted, but felt uncomfortable about interrupting Charles at work. “Some other time,” she said with a feigned lack of interest, though in actuality she was starving for the sight of him. Helping Valerie plan her wedding had forced some long-buried emotions to the surface. Steffie hadn’t admitted until these past few weeks how deeply she longed for marriage herself. A family of her own. A husband to love and live with her whole life.
A husband.
Her mind stumbled over the word. There’d only ever been one man she could imagine as her husband, and that was Charles. Even though Steffie knew it was unwise, she’d started dreaming again. She found herself fantasizing what her life would be like if she was married…to Charles. She wanted to blame her sisters for putting such thoughts in her head, but she couldn’t. Those dreams and fantasies had been there for years. The problem was that she couldn’t suppress them anymore.
An hour later, at the same moment as Steffie and Valerie were leaving the flower shop, Charles happened to step out of the Clarion office.
Steffie instinctively looked across the street, where he was walking with Wendy, deep in conversation. Something must have told him she was there because he glanced in her direction. He grinned warmly.
Steffie relaxed and waved. He returned the gesture, then spoke to Wendy before jogging across the street to join Steffie and her sister.
“Hello,” he said, but his eyes lingered on Steffie. He barely seemed to notice Valerie’s presence.
“Hi.” It was ridiculous to feel so shy with him. “I’d have stopped in to say hello, but I knew you’d be busy.”
“I’m never too busy for you.” His eyes were affectionate and welcoming.
“See,” Valerie hissed close to Steffie’s ear. Then, more loudly, “I’ve got a couple of errands to run, if you two would like a chance to talk.”
Charles checked his watch. “Come back to the office with me?”
“Sure.” If he’d suggested they stand on their heads in the middle of Main Street, Steffie would have willingly agreed.
Valerie cast a quick glance at the clock tower. “How about if I meet you back at the car in—”
“Half an hour,” Charles supplied, reaching for Steffie’s hand. “There’s something I’d like to show you,” he told her.
“Fine, I’ll see you then, Steff,” Valerie said cheerfully. She set off at a brisk walk, without looking back.
Their fingers entwined, Charles led Steffie across the street to the newspaper office. “I was going to save this for later, but now’s as good a time as any.” He ushered her in and guided her down the center aisle, past the obviously busy staff, to his desk.
Steffie wasn’t sure what to expect, but a mock-up of the Clarion’s second page wasn’t it. As far as she could see, it was the same as any other inside page she’d read over the years.
“Clearly I’m missing something,” she said after a moment. “Is the type different?”
“Nope, we’ve used the same fonts as always.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.
“How about a hint?” she asked, a bit puzzled.
“I might suggest you read the masthead,” he said next, his dark eyes gleaming.
“The masthead,” she repeated as she scanned the listings of the newspaper’s personnel and the duties they performed.
“All right, I will. Charles Tomaselli, editor and publisher. Roger Simons—”
“Stop right there,” he said, holding up his hand.
“Publisher,” she said again. “That’s new. What exactly does it mean?”
His smile could have lit up a Christmas tree. “It means, my beautiful Stephanie, that I now own the Orchard Valley Clarion.”
“Charles, that’s wonderful!” She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him, but it was difficult.
“My dream’s got a mortgage attached,” he told her wryly. “A lot of folks think I’m an idiot to risk so much of my future on a medium that’s said to be dying. Newspapers are folding all over the country.”
