1
Casey
I slammed my car into park and yanked the handle. I tumbled out, nearly dropping my phone on the asphalt. Being late was a sin in the newspaper industry, and I was a perpetual sinner.
I grabbed the latest edition of the MacKellar Cove Gazette on my way into the building, wanting to know what my coworkers were writing and wanting to see my name in print. I was still getting used to it. Since my divorce, I’d gotten a few good assignments, but not enough for me to quit my two other jobs and work full time as a reporter.
Newspapers were quickly dying out everywhere, but our small-town paper was solid. I had no doubt that was thanks to the influx of money from the locals over the last few years, not to mention the low-key notoriety of some of those locals.
As I raced into the office, I realized I had a stain on my light pink blouse. Crap. I held the paper in front of it, but it was only a matter of time before someone noticed it.
“Thanks for joining us, Casey,” my editor, Gretchen, said with a sneer.
I nodded, choosing not to speak and cause even more of a disruption.
Gretchen continued, giving me a chance to set my oversized handbag on the floor next to my chair and grab my notepad out of it. She was old-school and refused to allow anyone to take notes on their phones. It was paper or nothing.
Gretchen assigned stories to the full-time reporters and opened the floor for other ideas. A few were rattled off, and approval was given for them to be chased. When the conversation slowed, I cleared my throat, anxious to pitch my story.
“Mayor Knight is getting married next month,” I said.
Gretchen stared at me. “We are all aware of this. Why are you mentioning it?”
“I was thinking I could do a series about the wedding. A behind-the-scenes thing. Talk about the local vendors they’re using, how he’s handling the wedding with running the town. Stuff like that.”
Gretchen held my gaze for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she considered my proposal. “What’s your angle?”
“Angle?”
Gretchen sighed as if I were the world’s biggest moron.
Maybe I was because I was fairly sure I’d just told her what my angle was. Highlighting the town. The mayor. Making MacKellar Cove more appealing to visitors as a destination for major events.
“Yes, angle. Why does anyone care?” Gretchen was new to MacKellar Cove, but not new to the newspaper industry. She came to MacKellar Cove when the previous editor, Erik, resigned.
Erik ran articles about Mayor Omar Knight that were both misleading and damaging to him. He allowed me to publish stories that showed Omar positively, but Erik was a fan of the mayor Omar replaced. When I came forward with an article outlining all the things that happened before Omar stepped into the position, Erik resigned. He was willing to publish articles intending to get Omar removed from office, but when he saw all the evidence against his buddy, he walked away. Gretchen was brought in afterward, with no loyalty to either side.
I looked around the room at the others. MacKellar Cove was a small town. Life in a small town differed from that in a city. It was all about the community, the town being a place where everyone was respected and worked together. Omar had been a champion of that since he’d taken over as mayor, and his getting married was big news.
“I’ve read your other articles about him. It’s obvious you have a personal attachment to him. Maybe a crush? I will not approve anything that’s more of the same. More about how great the man is. You need to give me something new. Something different. Unless you just want to write about the mayor. We don’t really need someone who only covers one thing.” Gretchen’s gaze slid around the room, waiting for anyone to argue or agree.
Unfortunately for me, there were more nods than anything else. “I’m not… That’s… I thought it would be a good personal interest story. We always talk about work-life balance and how to handle family and having jobs, and I thought it could be a good take on it.”
“That’s been done. A million times. What else do you have?” Gretchen asked, sounding bored.
“Um, I mean, they’re using a lot of local vendors. It could be a highlight of what MacKellar Cove has to offer couples looking for a small-town destination wedding.”
“No one is looking for that.”
“Oh, okay. I… I don’t know.”
“We need excitement. We need scandal.” Gretchen looked around and again got heads to nod with her. “Is he secretly sleeping with his secretary? Is he still not over his ex-wife? Can we call her? Maybe have her show up? Does the bride have secrets? Who is she? What can we find out about them?”
“Um, I don’t think either of them has any secrets like that.”
“Then your story is a boring fluff piece. Do we really need more of those?”
“It wouldn’t be boring,” I mumbled.
