a broken stem. Karen bit back guilt that she could have deliberately damaged something so fragile.
"I don’t mind helping you clean up." She snapped the stem off the broken end and carefully arranged it into the new vase. "I think we can save most of them. These are so pretty it’s a shame you dropped them."
"I didn’t..." Karen began, but stopped before she admitted her crime. She couldn’t give this woman ammunition against her, especially if she had Gray’s ear. "Listen, uh, Miss Donnel, I—"
"It’s Donnelly. I’d prefer it if you called me Cara."
"Whatever." Karen breathed out heavily through her nose. The woman wasn’t budging. She was tougher than she looked. "If you were doing a story about singing in a rock band or trying to make it in Hollywood, I’m your girl.” Karen didn’t add that she had failed miserably at both pursuits. "But since you don’t, go find my Uncle Curtis. The Sun’s been operating for seventy-five years. I’ve only been working here for one.”
"I had an appointment with your uncle, too, but the receptionist said he was unexpectedly called away from the office."
"Then reschedule,” Karen said.
"I already did,” she said. “I’d rather not reschedule with you, though. I won’t take up too much of your time. I promise."
Karen shook her head, admiring, despite herself, the other woman’s persistence. Isn’t that what she preached to her own reporters? That you should never, ever take no for an answer when on the trail of an important story.
Thankfully for her reporters, they didn’t often run into sources as unflappable as Karen was. Or as determined not to be helpful. She chucked a few more pieces of broken glass into the waste basket and stood up.
"I don’t have the time to spare, Miss Donnelly." She deliberately ignored the woman’s request to use her first name. "It is Miss, isn’t it?"
"Yes, but—"
"I’m sure you can find the way out by yourself."
"We haven’t even finished cleaning up your spill."
"I can manage by myself." Karen put on her best satisfied smile. She’d been such a handful as a little girl the teachers at the church school had told her she’d go to hell if she lied. So be it. "Besides, Gray can always send me more flowers. He knows these are my favorites."
Karen had to give the other woman credit. Even though she blanched at the revelation, she very deliberately, very carefully placed the last of the hibiscus in the vase. Then she stood up. Karen was childishly glad that she topped her by a few inches taller, because she felt it gave her an advantage. And, all her life, Karen had been looking for an advantage. Without one, she couldn’t even begin to compete.
"If you change your mind, I’ll be staying at the Hotel Edison. Room 123."
"You’re a tourist just passing through then?" Karen asked hopefully. Perhaps she had been too hard on the other woman. Then again, she’d been pining long enough and hard enough for Gray DeBerg she didn’t intend to let anyone get in her way.
"Actually, I’ll be staying a while. So feel free to leave a message at the hotel if you change your mind about talking."
"Oh, I don’t think I’ll be doing that," Karen said, putting a hand on her cocked hip. “I’ll keep it in mind just the same."
As Karen watched her go, she considered the other woman’s statement that she’d be staying in Secret Sound. Despite her words, she’d sounded unsure, as though staying was the opposite of what she wanted.
Karen tapped her bottom lip with her index finger, wondering exactly how big of a nudge she’d have to give Cara Donnelly to persuade her that leaving town was in her best interest.
"Some investigative reporter you are," Cara said aloud as she pulled her car out of the newspaper’s parking lot. "You can’t even get people to talk to you."
That was why, she thought wryly, her dream of becoming a reporter would probably remain just that. Hadn’t she known, way back when she’d argued with her
"I don’t mind helping you clean up." She snapped the stem off the broken end and carefully arranged it into the new vase. "I think we can save most of them. These are so pretty it’s a shame you dropped them."
"I didn’t..." Karen began, but stopped before she admitted her crime. She couldn’t give this woman ammunition against her, especially if she had Gray’s ear. "Listen, uh, Miss Donnel, I—"
"It’s Donnelly. I’d prefer it if you called me Cara."
"Whatever." Karen breathed out heavily through her nose. The woman wasn’t budging. She was tougher than she looked. "If you were doing a story about singing in a rock band or trying to make it in Hollywood, I’m your girl.” Karen didn’t add that she had failed miserably at both pursuits. "But since you don’t, go find my Uncle Curtis. The Sun’s been operating for seventy-five years. I’ve only been working here for one.”
"I had an appointment with your uncle, too, but the receptionist said he was unexpectedly called away from the office."
"Then reschedule,” Karen said.
"I already did,” she said. “I’d rather not reschedule with you, though. I won’t take up too much of your time. I promise."
Karen shook her head, admiring, despite herself, the other woman’s persistence. Isn’t that what she preached to her own reporters? That you should never, ever take no for an answer when on the trail of an important story.
Thankfully for her reporters, they didn’t often run into sources as unflappable as Karen was. Or as determined not to be helpful. She chucked a few more pieces of broken glass into the waste basket and stood up.
"I don’t have the time to spare, Miss Donnelly." She deliberately ignored the woman’s request to use her first name. "It is Miss, isn’t it?"
"Yes, but—"
"I’m sure you can find the way out by yourself."
"We haven’t even finished cleaning up your spill."
"I can manage by myself." Karen put on her best satisfied smile. She’d been such a handful as a little girl the teachers at the church school had told her she’d go to hell if she lied. So be it. "Besides, Gray can always send me more flowers. He knows these are my favorites."
Karen had to give the other woman credit. Even though she blanched at the revelation, she very deliberately, very carefully placed the last of the hibiscus in the vase. Then she stood up. Karen was childishly glad that she topped her by a few inches taller, because she felt it gave her an advantage. And, all her life, Karen had been looking for an advantage. Without one, she couldn’t even begin to compete.
"If you change your mind, I’ll be staying at the Hotel Edison. Room 123."
"You’re a tourist just passing through then?" Karen asked hopefully. Perhaps she had been too hard on the other woman. Then again, she’d been pining long enough and hard enough for Gray DeBerg she didn’t intend to let anyone get in her way.
"Actually, I’ll be staying a while. So feel free to leave a message at the hotel if you change your mind about talking."
"Oh, I don’t think I’ll be doing that," Karen said, putting a hand on her cocked hip. “I’ll keep it in mind just the same."
As Karen watched her go, she considered the other woman’s statement that she’d be staying in Secret Sound. Despite her words, she’d sounded unsure, as though staying was the opposite of what she wanted.
Karen tapped her bottom lip with her index finger, wondering exactly how big of a nudge she’d have to give Cara Donnelly to persuade her that leaving town was in her best interest.
"Some investigative reporter you are," Cara said aloud as she pulled her car out of the newspaper’s parking lot. "You can’t even get people to talk to you."
That was why, she thought wryly, her dream of becoming a reporter would probably remain just that. Hadn’t she known, way back when she’d argued with her
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