Into the Light (18 page)

They drifted back to the outer office.

“When can you start?” Trey said.

His fingernails weren’t all that looked boyish. His hair fell over his forehead, and his attempts to brush it back had left ink smeared over one eye. Deborah, who avoided touching anyone except her sisters when she could, had a sudden urge to reach out and wipe the smudge away.

“Tomorrow?” Her voice squeaked a little. Uncle Jason had talked about regretting things not done. He should have mentioned regret over biting off too much to chew — and over impossible dreams.

J
UDITH WANTED TO
know every detail of what had happened, of course. Deborah wanted to share, but they had to wait until after supper, after the children were in bed, and after Uncle Jason and William retired to the parlor for drinks and cigars.

“So,” Judith said, pouring them each a cup of tea before settling down at the kitchen table. “Tell me everything.”

“I’m in trouble,” Deborah said. “He wants me to just — wander around town and find things to write about.” She waved an arm around to illustrate and looked into her cup gloomily.

“Does he? Well, that’s silly. Let’s make a list of what you should look at.” Judith dug through a drawer and came up with a pad of paper and a pencil. “Let’s see. This week Mrs. Tindell is sponsoring some Eastern writer reading his poems to enlighten us ignorant hayseeds.” She looked up and made a face. “The trouble with that is you’d better say nice things because if you get on the wrong side of Mrs. Tindell, you won’t get through half the doors in town ever again.”

“I won’t say I like it if I don’t.”

“Then go and see, and if you hate it, don’t say anything.”

“Did you know that Norah once worked for Mrs. Tindell?”

“Of course, and she quit when the old bag tried to tell her she couldn’t walk out with Caleb.”

“How did you know that when I never did?”

“Because I don’t go off by myself when interesting things are being discussed around the table at family dinners. You have to stop that now that it’s your job to hear things like that.”

“I’m not writing about our family.”

“If you keep adding things you’re not writing about, you won’t have anything left. Let’s see, the Methodists are having a rummage sale, setting up tomorrow and officially open Saturday. Used clothes.” Judith wrinkled her nose. “There’s a new play starting at the theater. Oh, I know. You should go watch the first night they have anything new at the theater and then say what you thought in the paper so people will know if it’s any good or not.”

Deborah stared at her sister in wonder. “He should have hired you.”

“Yes, he should have,” Judith said smugly, “but he doesn’t want a married woman or two little children running around his office. He wants you, unmarried and full of possibilities.”

Judith did that silly thing with her eyebrows again. Deborah pretended not to notice.

The list grew longer until it filled the page. Finally Judith tore the sheet off and handed it over. “There. That will do for this week. In between times, you need to just go shopping and keep your ears open. I’ll go with you when I can. As soon as Miriam stops being ridiculous, she can too. Having Hubbell’s first lady reporter in the family is fun, and you should have seen William’s face when he heard how much Mr. Van Cleve is paying you.”

As she read down the list, the anxiety that had been building in Deborah ever since the visit to the paper waned. “You’re wonderful,” she said to her sister sincerely. “You give me hope I can really do this.”

“Of course you can, and in honesty I couldn’t. I could go and chat and have a wonderful time flitting all over town, but I couldn’t write about it afterward. I have trouble with thank you notes.”

“I’ll write them for you. Thank you. Are you sure William doesn’t mind my staying here?”

“Of course not. He’s hoping you’ll stay with the children every time he wants to go to a restaurant — or a poetry reading. Having you here will work out for all of us, just don’t let us overdo.” Judith pushed the pad and pencil across the table. “Here, take this too. You need something to take notes on, and this will do until you can get a proper notebook.”

Deborah folded the list and pushed it deep in her pocket. If the children got to the pad of paper before she did in the morning.... Maybe she needed not just a notebook but a purse too. The pockets on her coat barely held a hanky, and dresses sometimes didn’t have pockets at all.

Judith’s bright chatter had already changed the rumble of male conversation in the parlor to laughter by the time Deborah joined the rest of the family. Over the years she had sometimes envied and sometimes resented her sister’s unfailing optimism and exuberance. Tonight gratitude brought a lump to her throat.

Deborah touched the paper in her pocket. The list changed the thought of her new job from something frightening to something to look forward to — almost like sneaking off to meet a mysterious stranger in the night.

D
EBORAH WALKED TO
the newspaper office alone the next morning. William had offered to wait and leave later than usual for the mill and walk with her, but as she explained to him, her new job would have her roaming from one end of town to the other soon enough.

“You’re as bad as your sister,” he said, with a look at Judith that said he didn’t find anything about her bad. “Here, let me draw you a little map so you know which parts of town to stay away from.”

“Are these all bad parts of town?” Deborah asked her sister after William had left.

“Bad enough you don’t want to go there alone. I’ll talk William into taking us there one day so you can see. He’ll get all red in the face, but he’ll do it. A newspaper woman should know what those areas are like.”

Maybe so, but Deborah hoped William would resist her sister for once. Adventures like that appealed to Judith, but Deborah wasn’t so brave. She could write about weddings and christenings without setting foot in the areas William had marked off on his map.

Trey looked up from the desk and smiled when she walked into the office. “Good morning. Are you ready to start?”

“Yes, I am.”

No shirtsleeves today. He had on a black suit, and his hair was in place. Her nerves began playing up. Nothing else could explain the way her stomach flipped. Wearing any one of her own dresses would be embarrassing when he looked so fine. Thank goodness Judith had talked her into borrowing a dark blue wool dress with jet trim and velvet hat to match.

Deborah hung her coat on one of the pegs along the wall, but after a moment’s hesitation, left her hat on. After all she’d be going out again soon. At least she thought so. “That’s not true. I’m not ready because I don’t know where to start. You were vague yesterday about what I should do.”

He made a face. “Aah. That’s because I don’t really know. Maybe Peter can give you some ideas about how his wife went about things. He’ll be back from the barber shop in a little while.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Deborah took the list from her pocket and laid it on the counter. “Judith helped me make a list.”

Trey rose and stood across the counter from her as he read down the page. When he finished, he said, “I’m not paying you enough.”

“You’re paying me too much. If you keep throwing money around like that, the paper will fail for you faster than it did for Mr. Richmond.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “At least that’s what William says, William Dalton, Judith’s husband.”

“He should know, but I don’t need to make a profit.”

“You mean — your father?”

Trey’s face hardened, and she drew back. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my....”

“It is. If you’re working for me, you have the right to know I’m not crazy. Those years after college when I drifted around the country, I worked at any job that came my way. I tried prospecting in Colorado without any luck and then tried it again in Arizona and stumbled on a vein of high grade ore. Looking for silver and found gold.”

“You have a gold mine.”

“No, I pulled out as much as I could by myself with a pick and shovel and then sold the claim to a company that thought there had to be more if they went deeper. I have a five percent royalty interest, and the mine is still producing. I don’t need to make a profit from this paper, but I do need to break even. Not making money is one thing, losing it is another. So we’ll give it a couple of years and see how we do.”

“You keep saying we, but you own the paper now. Do you mean you and Mr. Richmond?”

“Me, Mr. Richmond, and you.”

His eyes gleamed as if he understood the effect those words had on her stomach. Deborah picked up her list and went back to her coat. “How soon do we need these stories?”

“Monday afternoon for Thursday’s paper.”

Deborah nodded and headed for the Methodist church.

D
EBORAH WHIRLED WHEN
she heard Trey’s voice behind her. Sure enough, there he was, talking to Mrs. Yates. Men who owned big papers back East would probably pay to look as good as Trey did in that long gray coat, with black hat, black cane, devastating smile. In fact, Mrs. Yates, mother of six and grandmother of more than Deborah wanted to know, was simpering. Simpering!

He was here to check on her, of course. Deborah dropped the dress in her hand back into the box it came in and brushed her hands together as he left Mrs. Yates and strolled over.

“Mrs. Yates says you’ve been a great help this morning,” Trey said as he reached her.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to observe, but they were so happy to see me and have help, and I just — got dragged in somehow.”

“When I said be an observer, I didn’t mean you always had to do it that way. Whatever works. I came to see if you’d like to have lunch with me.”

“Lunch?”

“Lunch. Not a big meal like on the farm, but a sandwich at the café?”

She swiped at the dust on the front of Judith’s dark dress. His eyes followed her hand across the bodice. Deborah dropped her hand as if it had been burned. “I don’t think....”

Trey looked around the big room, empty except for tables with piles of the used household items and clothes that had been sorted for sale, and boxes such as the one Deborah had been sorting through.

“They have Bible study, church dinners and the like here, don’t they?” he said. “Surely there’s a wash room somewhere. If not, we’ll stop by the office first.”

He reached out and rubbed a finger across her cheek. “Or maybe not. You’ll look better than anyone else there just the way you are.”

Deborah stopped breathing. The casual touch raced along every nerve ending. All her life she had flinched and jerked away from anyone except Judith and Miriam. Now she stood staring into his eyes as if turned to stone. Gray-green, a charcoal ring around the outer rim. Beautiful eyes. Questioning eyes. Questioning?

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “I mean, yes, there’s a washroom. I-I’ll go and....” She fled before she could make a bigger fool of herself.

T
HE LITTLE CAFÉ
Trey took her to sat a block inside the area William had designated “bad” on the hand drawn map of town he’d given her the night before. The walls and tables alike were bare wood, but Deborah was grateful for the steamy warmth of the place after working all morning in the chilly room at the church.

Her stomach reacted to the scent of frying meat with an appreciative growl she hoped no one heard over the clatter of dishes from the kitchen and buzz of happy chatter from every table.

“Jamie found this place,” Trey said as he pulled out a chair for her. “The food is plain but good. I should have asked you if you wanted something fancier.”

“Oh, no, I like this.” She spotted two other women at the tables and relaxed. After all William had only meant she shouldn’t come to this part of town alone.

“Have anything you like. Sandwiches aren’t the only choice.”

“So what did you find out this morning?” he asked once they’d ordered his sandwich and her soup.

She hesitated, tempted to tell him nothing. “The best of what is donated never makes it to the sale. Mrs. Yates and her friends see everything first, and they take anything that’s particularly nice.”

“Do they now.” Trey didn’t look particularly surprised. “And do they pay what these items would bring at the sale into the treasury, so to speak?”

She had never considered such a thing. “I don’t know.”

“But you’re going back this afternoon to find out, aren’t you?”

A young man with plates balanced up and down his arms paused by their table long enough to slap down a plate with a sandwich and a soup bowl.

If he had hesitated for a moment, Deborah would have thanked him for giving her time to think.

“We can’t put that in the paper.”

“Why not?”

“Everyone will hate me. Us. When the Baptists have a fund-raiser. They’ll slam the door in my face.”

“If they do, we’ll report that and let people make of it what they will.”

Deborah put her spoon down without tasting the soup. “It’s only a church rummage sale. Organizing it is time-consuming and hard work for those ladies, and they do it for charity. Everyone in town probably knows what happens.”

“Do you think women like your aunt and cousin who live a day’s drive away know? How many of them time trips to town for supplies with the church’s sale thinking they’ll get something they can use at a bargain price, only they don’t know they’ll never have a chance at the best things?”

Aunt Em had done that when she and her sisters were little. Aunt Lucy did it last year and probably would again. And today Mrs. Yates had “put aside” a lovely yellow dress with no sign of wear on it for one of her granddaughters.

“All right,” Deborah said, understanding the point, even if she still didn’t completely agree. “I’ll go back and find out.”

“Really find out. You have to either see plain evidence yourself or hear the same thing from more than one person you believe. Don’t just take the word of some lady who’s upset because someone else got something she wanted.”