When they were finished talking, Paula took a seat at the long table that was not quite rectangular, but not quite oval either. Darrick introduced the woman and man across from her as Roxy and Jaron, the station’s weekend anchors. Cindy, Miles’s assistant, whom she met earlier, was also present.
On the wall across from her was a collage of black-and-white photos of Walter Cronkite, Edward R. Murrow, Charles Kuralt, and a couple of men Paula didn’t recognize. Below the collage was a framed, matted quote, attributed to Cronkite:
Our job is only to hold up a mirror—to tell and show the public what has happened, and then it is the job of the people to decide whether they have faith in their leaders or government. We are faithful to our profession of telling the truth.
Paula glanced at the people around the table and wondered what the meeting was about. Two field reporters and two anchors. Just then Max Pierson walked in with Miles.
“Thanks for coming, everyone.” Miles took a seat at the head of the table, and Max sat beside him. “Paula, this is Max Pierson, our evening anchor. Max, Paula Landin-Cohen, our bright, new investigative reporter.”
Paula took the hand Max offered, approving of his firm, steady handshake. He had more wrinkles than what showed on TV, but that was typical.
“Some of you might’ve guessed why you’re here,” Miles said, “but I have some news that affects all of you. Or will at least affect one of you quite dramatically. Max?”
Max rested his elbows on the table. His gaze swept each person. “Well, folks, I’ve been in this business a long time. Longer than some of you have been alive.” He looked pointedly at Jaron, and everyone smiled as Jaron shrugged.
“News is in my blood, just as I know it’s in yours,” Max continued. “But the time has come, or at least my wife tells me it has, for me to bid farewell to my work.”
It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Max was past retirement age, and most stations would have given his spot to a younger, fresher face a long time ago. Even Paula had been concerned about her own youthful looks slipping away in a world where men grew “distinguished” and women “aged.” But she couldn’t help but be excited by the opportunity that was possibly being served up before her.
“Now I can see all your eyes lit up like children on Christmas morning,” Miles said. “But obviously, we’re talking about one position here. And Max is going to hang around with us until the end of March, so we’ve got some time yet.”
Paula’s thoughts careened wildly. Did she have a chance at the anchor job? She was only here as a temporary fill-in for a disabled reporter. But could Miles be considering her? He must, or she wouldn’t be in this room.
“There are almost four months between now and then, and come March, I’m going to have a big decision to make. I have no doubt that each of you is capable of doing the job. The question is, who’s the best person for the job? Who’s the hungriest for the job? You have three months to show me.”
Paula felt the stirrings of desire and drive. All the ambition that had seen her through to a journalism degree, into lead position at WKEV, and now to a temporary spot in Chicago. This was her shot at her dream job. She remembered the way David had snarled those two words the day before. Why couldn’t he understand? He was already achieving his dreams. How could he deny her a chance at hers?
Everyone was standing, congratulating Max on his retirement. But Paula knew that four of the people in that room were thinking of only one thing: grabbing the prestigious anchor chair for themselves.
* * *
Linn Caldwell stared across the desk at Mrs. Lipinski, her thoughts jelling in her head.
“And so you see, dear, while I really hate to do it, there’s just no help for it.”
Outside the office door a customer was scolding her child in whispered tones for running through the bookstore.
“Maybe you can just give me fewer hours.” Linn regretted her words when she saw the way Mrs. Lipinski’s eyes pulled down at the corners. But this was the job she’d counted on when she moved to Chicago. And living here wasn’t cheap, even when you shared an apartment.
“Honey, believe me, I’ve tried working the numbers, but I wouldn’t be able to give you enough hours to keep you going.” The woman put her wrinkly hand on Linn’s arm. “I’m truly sorry, Linn. If I had known sooner, I would’ve let you know, but . . .” She shook her head, pulling her rounded shoulders up.
“I understand.” She would not cry. She wouldn’t. She’d been through much worse than this, and God would help her find another job, wouldn’t He? Hadn’t He worked out her scholarship, her apartment, and . . . Grace? Her hand went to her belly to rub away the cramp that was building.
“Mrs. Lipinski.” An employee stuck her head in the office. “There’s a customer asking about an order that I can’t seem to find. The system’s acting up again.”
“Be right there.” Mrs. Lipinski squeezed Linn’s arm. “I need to go take care of this.”
Linn grabbed her purse and coat and left the office, her thoughts spinning. As she exited Book Nook, the crisp December air hit her in the face, much like reality had moments ago.
Charlotte was going to flip if Linn couldn’t pay her share of the rent. They’d barely have squeaked by on the salary she would have made at the Book Nook. Linn needed a part-time job, and quick. If only her scholarship had covered room and board, she’d be living easy at the dorm with most of the other students at Loyola University. But having to miss the first semester had ruined that.
She thought of what she had left behind in Jackson Hole and felt a tugging. No. She couldn’t go back there. It wouldn’t be fair to any of them. And there was no way she was giving up her scholarship, even if she had to live on the street. She shivered and huddled in her coat.
Even at night, Chicago seemed bright, glowing with fluorescent and neon store lights. She strolled down the sidewalk past the bus hut, knowing the bus wasn’t due just yet. She wished Charlotte had stuck around for a few minutes after dropping her off. Of course, neither of them had known what a short meeting her appointment with Mrs. Lipinski would be.
Ahead, a Java Joe sign lit the sky. Impulsively she turned and entered. Warmth glided over her cold skin like a welcoming hug. The place was hopping with college students. Students whose parents were probably footing the bill for college, books, and dorm with a little spending money thrown in on the side. Her dad was lucky to pay his own bills this month, much less hers. And that was even if they were talking. Which they weren’t.
Linn got in line and tried to think of where she could apply. There was a diner close to her apartment, but she didn’t remember seeing any Help Wanted signs.
The line scooted forward, and she moved with it. Maybe the university was hiring for the cafeteria or something.
She sighed. Probably not. The first semester was almost over, and kids who needed jobs had taken them in September, just as she would have if she hadn’t been—
She didn’t need to be thinking about that right now. She had barely a month before she started her first college semester, and she needed a job quick.
She should get a paper tonight and search the employment section. Did the coffee shop have a newspaper stand outside? She turned and looked past the line forming behind her. There were three stands outside the door. Reaching into her purse, she dug around for her wallet. Tissues, lipstick, class schedule, pens . . . where was it? That’s when she remembered taking it out at the apartment before she left for the Book Nook. She must’ve left it there.
“What can I get for you?”
Her head snapped up to see the guy behind the counter. A real cutie, with his brows raised in expectation.
“Uh . . .” She glanced over her shoulder, uncomfortably aware of the students in line behind her. “I left my wallet at home,” she said as quietly as she could.
Not that she had much in there anyway.
The noisy den swallowed her words.
“What?” The guy still wore his plea
sant, I-aim-to-please smile.
“Never mind. I forgot my money . . .”
She backed away, and the girl behind her nudged into first place.
“Wait.” He crooked his finger.
She wasn’t sure if it was the motion of his finger or the depth in his eyes that pulled her back to the counter. The girl who had taken her spot reluctantly slid back.
“Magenta over here mismade a drink.” He gestured toward a girl with pink hair who was dumping a shot of espresso into a grande cup. “Do you like mochas?”
Linn’s head bobbed up and down.
The girl behind her huffed.
“Look—it’s OK. I should just leave.” Linn turned and walked away. Her face felt hot, despite the chill of her skin. How could she have been so stupid as to leave her wallet behind? She didn’t even have enough for a newspaper.
Another thought smacked her. How was she going to pay for the bus?
She exited the coffee shop and leaned against the brick facade. Her breath vaporized in front of her face. What a dope she was. How was she going to get home now? Charlotte was at her own job, and the only other person she’d met in the short few days she’d been in the city was Mrs. Lipinski. And she was working too. Should she try and walk home?
Fear stabbed Linn as she stared down the lighted sidewalk. This wasn’t Jackson Hole; this was Chicago. And her apartment was at least four miles away . . . maybe more. She had never been good at judging distances. She held her watch up to the light shining out of the coffee shop’s front window. It was going on nine. She calculated the time it would take for her to walk home. Should she do it? What choice did she have?
“Excuse me.”
The cute guy from behind the counter stood half in and half out of the door. He extended a vasto cup.
She straightened, feeling her hair snag the brick behind her. “Hi.”
“It’s going to go to waste if you don’t take it.”
She couldn’t resist the mocha any more than she could resist his smile. “Thanks.” The cup was warm against her cold fingers.
“Want to come inside and warm up?”
She thought about the long walk ahead and the hour, growing later by the minute. “Nah, I’ve got to be going.”
“Right. Well, come back and see us again.” He was inside the shop before she could respond. Which was just as well, since she was pretty sure she didn’t want to show her face around there anytime soon.
She shoved off the wall and started the long walk home. The mocha slid like warm comfort down her throat. She could get a paper in the morning and start setting up interviews. She was fortunate that she still had more than a month before school started so she could pour all her time into finding work. Of course, she already owed Charlotte for their first month’s rent, and she only had fifty-four dollars left.
She should look for a waitressing job. She had experience from working at Bubba’s Bar-B-Que in Jackson Hole, and restaurants were always busier on evenings and weekends, when she would be available.
She’d walked about two miles when she noticed there were hardly any lights lining the sidewalk. Was this even the right street? When Charlotte had driven her to the Book Nook, she hadn’t been paying much attention. Was it this street or the next where she should turn?
She decided to walk to the next one. She didn’t remember the area looking so residential. Hadn’t there been a gas station or something on the corner? She waited for a car to go by, then crossed the street and continued on, taking the last sip from her now-cold mocha.
At the next corner she stopped and peered down the street. It was as residential as the last one had been. Residential and dark. Should she go that way or keep walking? Why hadn’t she called Charlotte from the coffee shop to make sure of the directions?
Linn closed her eyes and let out a breath. Her nose had gone numb, and her fingers were even worse. Three days in Chicago and she was already lost. So much for her bright future.
People whizzed by in cars without so much as looking her way. She couldn’t help but think how different it was from Jackson Hole, where you couldn’t go anywhere without passing someone you knew.
She knew she had to make a decision. She couldn’t just stand on this corner forever.
A car turned the corner slowly—a sleek sports model, filled with guys. One of them smiled at her as they passed, then must have put down the window. She could hear them shouting back to her as they drove away.
As she crossed the road, her feet kicked into a faster gear. Would those guys round the block and come back? She didn’t want to be anywhere near if they did. The streetlamps were further apart now, and the buildings had given way to mostly apartments and closed retail stores. Her feet pounded the sidewalk in a rhythmic thump. What was she going to do? She needed to ask someone how to get to her street, but who?
Behind her a car slowed. She moved to the far side of the sidewalk and quickened her steps. Had those guys come back?
Help me, God.
The metro section of the newspaper had told her all she needed to know about how safe Chicago was.
The car eased up beside her, making soft popping sounds as its tires rolled over loose pebbles. Then she heard the mechanical hum of a window sliding down.
CHAPTER
THREE
Linn swallowed gulps of frosty air and tried to get her frozen legs to move faster. She didn’t want to look next to her, to see who was stalking her in the dark. There was no one else around—not even a car passing by.
“Hi again.”
The voice registered as familiar. Her head whipped around. It was the guy from the coffee shop. Her body nearly thawed with relief. She slowed her frantic pace and turned.
The car stopped beside her, idling.
“I thought that was you, but I wasn’t sure,” the guy said, smiling. “It’s not safe to walk around by yourself at night.”
“I was supposed to take the bus, but . . .” She shrugged, not wanting to repeat that she’d left her money at home.
“Ah.” His head tipped back slightly as if he was remembering her cash problem. A car buzzed around him, honking for good measure. “Can I give you a lift?” He seemed hesitant to ask, as if he knew the fear and uncertainty that would automatically enter a girl’s mind at such a question. “I don’t feel good about leaving you out here all alone.”
Weighing the threat of those guys returning and the unknown threats ahead against the seemingly nice guy in the car, Linn decided the offer was definitely the lesser of two evils. She nodded. “Thanks.”
He opened the car door from inside, and she hopped in. The car’s warmth encased her like a fleece blanket.
“Where to?”
“3702 Cermak.”
He checked the traffic and made a U-turn in the middle of the street.
Great. I was going the wrong way. She put the mocha cup between her knees and rubbed her hands together.
He turned up the heat to full blast. “You must be new to the area.”
“I’ve only been here three days.”
“Here as in Cicero or here as in Chicago?”
“Chicago. I’m starting at Loyola in January.”
“Good school. Where did you come from?”
He had a pleasant voice and a kind demeanor that made her feel more comfortable than she had in all the time since she left home. She realized only then how strange it felt to know only one person in the whole city.
“Jackson Hole, Wyoming.”
“Ah. That’s where the Tetons are, right?”
“Right.”
He was making a left at the first street she’d questioned. She remembered Mrs. Geischen, her fifth-grade teacher, telling the class, “Always go with your first impression on tests.” Maybe that applied to real life too. She wiggled her toes inside her boots. Now that she was inside the car and sitting still, she realized they also were half-frozen.
“Warming up?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks.” She peeke
d at him discreetly. He was such a cutie. Or maybe she should say he was attractive, since he seemed less like a guy and more like a man. His dark hair was clipped short, and he had a strong profile that reminded her of a movie star.
She blinked. What was she doing? The last thing she needed to be thinking about was men. After her nightmarish record on that account and her precarious future, she needed to focus on keeping a roof over her head.
Just then he turned onto her street, and everything looked familiar again.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone looking for some part-time help, would you?” she asked.
“Are you looking?” He glanced at her sideways, and she quickly averted her eyes. He was way too distracting.
“I had a job lined up, but it fell through tonight.” She pointed toward her apartment building. “It’s right there.”
“You’ve had a rough night, haven’t you?” When he pulled up to the curb, the way his lips went crooked made her smile.
“What gave it away? The fact that I: a) left my money at home, b) had to walk home and got lost, or c) lost my job before I even started?”
“D. All of the above?”
“Ding, ding, ding. We have a lucky winner.”
The sound of his laugh made warmth curl in her stomach in a place that had previously ached. It was such a pleasant sensation that she didn’t have the strength to fight it.
He grinned. “I can tell you’re a student. Even conversation is in the form of a test.”
Linn reached for the handle. “Listen, I really appreciate the ride.”
“Wait. You asked about a job.”
She faced him, the tingling of her thawing extremities temporarily forgotten.
“There’s nothing available at the coffee shop right now, but one of our new employees might not work out. Joe, the manager, has been talking about finding someone else. Interested?”