Talk of the Town Read Free

her appear sympathetic.
    Now that she knew Shannon was such a backstabber, Rebecca wouldn’t be surprised if the girl practiced the expression in front of a mirror. The ugly thought that Shannon could have had something to do with the false lead flit across her mind.
    “Shannon, I’m amazed that you’d settle for this position. I wouldn’t think it was
serious
enough for you.”
    A self-satisfied smile curving her lips, Shannon shrugged. “Circumstances change. I don’t know what else to say, except good-bye and best of luck to you.”
    If her iron will to always appear in control hadn’t clamped down like a vise, Rebecca would have given in to her burning desire to toss Shannon’s skinny butt out of
her
chair. Instead, she smiled back so hard her face ached. “No need to say good-bye. I’ll be right through the newsroom and around the corner in the Home and Food section.”
    Hoping her calm facade was still in place, Rebecca swept up the box and turned to walk away. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Shannon hastily picking up the phone. If she was calling Tim or the mysterious new owner so they could plot their next move to get rid of her, they should save their breaths.
    Let them do their worst—this time I’m not going anywhere.
    She held her box of office treasures like a shield. On top, the picture of her with Harrison Ford, taken when he was in town shooting
The Fugitive,
stared back at her.
    So we both looked a little younger in those days. But damn it, we still look good today. If I wasn’t in the media where they judge my age in dog years, I’d be considered in my prime.
    She felt a remarkable connection with her aging hero. Both their careers might be down at the moment, but certainly they weren’t
finished.
    With a vow to win whatever battles with Shannon and The-New-Evil-Boss-from-Hell lay ahead, she clutched the picture of Harrison to her breasts, pushed open the glass double doors to the newsroom, and walked defiantly back into chaos.

Chapter 2
    O n the ball field in Ellen Sumner Park, Juan Cortez’s leadoff was too aggressive at second base. “Back a step, buddy, back a step,” David Sumner muttered to himself while pacing in front of his Little League team.
    At home plate, Pedro got fisted with an inside fastball that blooped over the first baseman’s head and down the right-field line. Short on power but long on speed, he legged it into a double.
    Juan did a header into third base, and David cheered along with the team when the umpire yelled, “Safe!”
    David’s cell phone vibrated against his thigh and he yanked it out of his pocket. “This better be good, Louise. We’re down two in the bottom of the seventh.”
    “David, it’s Tim Porter. Your secretary gave me this number when I told her it was important.”
    “Make it quick.” David made a mental note to let Tim know this time was only for the kids he coached. Only half listening to Tim, David watched little Miguellia place the helmet over her regular hat because it was too big for her.
    “Rebecca Covington took the job in the Home section. There won’t be an age discrimination suit.” Tim finally had his attention.
    David felt a jolt of relief, and then it was lost in his concern for Miguellia, head down, dragging the bat behind her, moving toward home plate.
    He tried to focus on Tim for one minute. “Rebecca Covington has pride. She won’t give up her column that easily. She’ll take the money for a while, but this isn’t over. Keep me informed. Thanks. Gotta go.”
    David watched Miguellia take a warm-up swing. He ached inside, as it looked as though the bat was swinging her. After digging in, Miguellia took a wild hack with everything she had, missing the ball by a foot when the pitch was over her head.
    David signaled the umpire for a time-out and motioned Miguellia off to the side, where no one else could hear them. He knelt and smiled at her. “How you doing?”
    “Coach, we need a home run to win,”