Barbecue and Bad News (4 page)

She’d only been to one parade in DC, and that was only because she’d had to be in it. Right after she’d taken the job with Evelyn, all the writers at the paper rode on a float sponsored by GetItNowNews in the Christmas parade right past the Capitol building. She was still pretty sure they’d tricked her into drawing that short straw that forced her to be the newspaper’s stupid mascot. As if it wasn’t bad enough being the only woman, she had to be the one wearing a rolled-up-newspaper costume, which really made no sense at all, since they didn’t even have a physical paper anymore. Everything was online. Someone must have dragged that musty thing out of an old storage closet. The guys had spent the better part of the next year begging her to swat them for being naughty.

The timing of that parade had been less than perfect while she’d been trying to make a good first impression and be taken seriously in a man’s world like the newsroom. None of them had wanted to be in that parade, but Evelyn had made it mandatory. They’d all been half-drunk by the time the float started edging its way down Pennsylvania Avenue. To her benefit, at least no one could see her face in that costume.

The unmistakable clip-clop of horse hooves against the pavement grabbed her attention. There’d been a time when riding was one of the only things she could still find joy in. It had been years since she’d even been around horses, but the one walking by wasn’t your everyday trail horse.

The beauty of this horse was undeniable.

The sheen from the animal’s coat glimmered almost like it was wet, and his muscles screamed athlete, even with the bright-purple saddle towel and decorative tack. The jockey sat astride the horse in matching bright-purple-and-white silks.

Cheers and hushed whispers from the crowd filled the air. This wasn’t just any horse. This was Hillcrest Joyful Kixx, the Kentucky Derby winner. From what she was overhearing, he was being moved out here to a local farm. His win had been big news; in fact, if she remembered correctly, Evelyn had lost a bundle on that race because this horse won.

Too bad she hadn’t placed a bet. She probably would’ve picked this horse—purple was her favorite color.

A police car followed closely behind the horse, probably more for safety precautions for the high-dollar athlete than for parade reasons.

Savannah pulled her phone out of her purse and snapped a picture, then texted it to Evelyn with the message,
Look
.

Evelyn:
Who’s the hot guy in the cop car? That your cop?

Savannah:
The picture is of the horse. The Derby winner. And yes. That is the cop who pulled me over.

Evelyn:
He’s hot. The cop. That horse cost me 5k.

Savannah:
;)

Evelyn:
This little gig is going to be more fun for you than I thought.

Savannah:
I didn’t agree to that gig.

Evelyn:
One more thing. Hang on a second.

That woman ran at ninety miles an hour all day long. Her mind was always spinning up the next big thing. Too bad Savannah hadn’t considered that
before
she’d tried to play that silly April Fool’s joke on Evelyn. That joke had backfired on her big time. Evelyn hated advice columns. She made no bones about that, so Savannah had slipped a fake advice column tagged Advice from Van in the GetItNowNews upload to run on April 1.

In the Dear Abby format, she’d posted a question with a snarky answer. Evelyn was the only one who’d ever called Savannah
Van
, so she’d know exactly who was behind it, and it had seemed the perfect prank at the time. She’d thought they’d get a big laugh and it would be over. The problem was, the readers loved it. Questions came pouring in, and Evelyn, being the shrewd businesswoman she was, knew a good thing when it was in front of her and wasn’t about to let Savannah get away with not finishing what she’d started.

An advice column was not her idea of being a writer, and it sure as heck wasn’t something she could write home about. Especially since it wasn’t done with a real remedy in mind. The answers poked fun, making light of what really were some serious issues.

The paper had decided early on that part of the viral aspect would be to keep the columnist under wraps, which was easy to do since so few people knew about it to begin with.

So there she was, stuck getting no credit for all the hard work she’d put in and not sure she’d really be proud of it if she did.

She glanced down at her phone. Nothing back from Evelyn yet, and that just made her nervous.

She dreaded the one-more-hoop that Evelyn was always putting in front of her. Why was there always one more hurdle before Savannah could get off of that darn advice column? Change takes time. Patience just never was one of her strong suits.

Float after float went by. Good thing she’d decided to skip the wedding, because Bobby’s estimate of an hour had long passed. These people were serious about their parading!

The music drifted as the parade disappeared around the corner, and the locals started peeling back from the curb. Some gymnast in an animal costume went bouncing by, cartwheeling and carrying a sign that said
HAPPY DAY Y’ALL!
on it.

She wasn’t sure if it was the parade, getting out of going back to her hometown, or the possibility that she might really get off the Advice from Van assignment making her feel so good, but whatever it was, she wasn’t about to question it.

Savannah maneuvered between the people who had stalled to talk and catch up, then waited to cross the street with the others as cars filed out of a church parking lot.

To the mechanic’s credit, he was right; there was a significant amount of traffic once the barricades were pulled back. Of course, now she wasn’t in as big of a hurry.

First things first: she checked the text to her aunt and cousin. Aunt Cathy had responded with just a simple
FINE
, which was never fine at all, but then maybe that was just one more reason to be happy she wasn’t going home. Home. Just thinking about it was enough to make the bear claw do a somersault inside her gut. Winnie had sent back a selfie of her in her gown. She really did look beautiful.

Savannah tucked the phone into her purse. “Excuse me, ma’am,” she said to a woman walking down the street, holding the hand of a small boy. “Is there a hotel in town?”

“Well, there was, but it closed down a few months ago. But the Markham B and B is right up the block there.” The woman pointed in the opposite direction of the gas station. “It’s much nicer, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Staying at a bed-and-breakfast wouldn’t be so bad. Although if she got right down to work, she could probably get her research done and knock out the article in a few hours. She could do that from the diner. Then she could just go home and relax. Whoever said a vacation had to be away from home?

But since she was here, it wouldn’t hurt to check out the B and B. It didn’t take but a few minutes’ walk before she spotted the hand-painted wooden sign swinging from chains in front of a huge Victorian.

Savannah pushed the old wrought-iron gate open. It creaked and closed behind her with a loud clang, but no one came outside. As she walked up the sidewalk to the front porch, she noticed an older gentleman in a rocking chair.

“Excuse me, sir?”

He flew to an upright position. “Right here.” Then he settled his gaze on her. “Hello. Can I help you?”

“I was hoping to rent a room.”

“You could, but my wife isn’t here right now. I’m Mr. Markham.”

“Nice to meet you. Is there a room available?”

“I think so. Fifty dollars a night. But it’s two hundred dollars a week, so you may as well stay the whole week, if you ask me. That includes your breakfast.” He rocked forward. “And the bed, of course.”

“Internet connection?”

He rolled his eyes, sending his bushy eyebrows on what looked like a caterpillar race across his forehead. “No. Although my daughter says you can piggyback on the wireless signal over at the library from here, if you know what any of that means.”

“Good to know.”

“Only TV is down here in the living room, but my wife probably has some suggestions for you. She knows everything around here. Everyone is up at the park for the big concert. Why aren’t you over there, come to think of it?”

“I’m not from around here. What concert?”

“Cody Tuggle and some other loud guitar-playing guy. Dustin something. Anyway, big celebration here in town today because of the Derby. Lady that owns the horse is moving to Adams Grove.”

“I saw the horse. He’s a beauty.” The old man didn’t flinch, not a blink, not a wiggle. Could he even hear her? “In the parade,” she added a little louder.

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“Kind of a celebrity for y’all, huh?”

“I guess. Hell, country stars, horses. I don’t know what else is coming to our town, but things are changin’.”

“Can I walk there from here?”

“Where?”

“The concert.”

“Well, you could, but you’d be tuckered out and probably miss the whole darn thing if you tried to walk all that way.”

“Hmm. Okay, well I guess I’ll go back down to the garage and pick up my car, then.”

“Your car down at Bobby’s?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Just keep heading north and you’ll see all the signs. Probably hear the racket. No one plays good music anymore. Not since Sinatra. Even Tony Bennett has abandoned the good ranks, doing duets with those pop stars. What the hell is that all about?”

She stifled a laugh at the ol’ curmudgeon. “Probably just trying to stay relevant in changing times.”

“Change. Someone ought to ban that word from the dictionary. Nothing good can come of change.”

She sure hoped he was wrong, because she was ready for a change. A big one.

Evelyn:
IDEA! Call me now.

The day Evelyn became text savvy had been a bad day for Savannah.

The woman was relentless with the number of text messages she sent out. It hadn’t taken Savannah long to learn that Evelyn considered everything an emergency. When she’d first started working for her, Savannah would drop everything and practically fling herself on the phone to respond to Evelyn’s call-me-now requests. Not anymore. Now she’d known her long enough to know that she could respond when it was convenient . . . no matter how urgent it sounded. If it was really an emergency, Evelyn would put a #911 on the text.

Savannah pressed the button on her phone to speed-dial Evelyn. “What’s up?”

“I just had the best idea.”

“Uh-oh. Your ideas always mean more work for me.”

“It’s only because you’re the best, dear. Take it as the compliment it’s meant to be.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I need that filler piece, but we need more than just one little story.”

“The one I didn’t agree to yet, you mean?”

“Oh, you’ll do it. Quit being hard to get along with. You write that story about your seven-over speeding ticket by that amazingly hot piece of ass. It’ll be funny. People love to hate cops. You know I’m right. Then, follow up with maybe a series that I can run once a week about small-town mishaps.”

“Look, I’m so over the Advice from Van thing that I want to poke my eyes out rather than read another e-mail to that account. You promised you’d get me off of that assignment.”

“Maybe this will be your chance, and you just might score a nice date with that cute man behind the badge if you try hard enough in that little town. Where are you again?”

“Adams Grove. And you know I don’t want a date.”

“Oh, live a little, girl. You don’t have to marry the guy. Just have a little fun. You can’t just work all the time.”

“Why not? You do.”

“And I’m old enough to be your mother’s older sister. Much older. Besides, I already had the love of my life. I outlived him, but there won’t be another like him. This is a choice I’ve made. You don’t even have a social life.”

“I have a social life.” Savannah didn’t like having this conversation with Evelyn. It wasn’t the first time they’d had it.

“Uh-huh. Going out for drinks once in a while and playing cards with the guys once a month is not a social life.”

Savannah pushed up her sleeves, biting back any argument. Problem was, Evelyn was half-right, but she really liked it the way it was.

Evelyn’s voice held that don’t-be-a-fool tone. “You’re too young to not find true love.”

“I’m making a choice too, and I’m happy with it. I’d be happier if you’d get me off the Van column, though.”

“Anyway . . . here’s what I’ve got for you.”

Savannah could hear the papers shuffling on Evelyn’s desk. She was on speaker—as usual.

“While you were watching the parade, I made contact with a very nice man. His name is . . . here it is. Connor Buckham. He’s the guy at the phone number on that little sign you texted me. I just paid for you to live and work there for the week. Any other expenses can go on the corporate card.”

“Evelyn, I don—”

“I don’t want to hear it. This is a well-deserved semi-vacation on my dime. You get me that story. And a few more too. There’s bound to be some fun stuff to write about there. We need something fresh in the news right now. You can do this. Get your head together, and when you get back, I’ll give you that Senior Associate promotion we’ve been talking about and reassign the Van page to someone else permanently.”