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Eva smiled indulgently. “Thanks, Eileen, I’ll make a note of that.”
Mark turned Sasha around to face Eva. “You remember Eva from Mr. Seb’s memorial, don’t you, honey?”
Sasha beamed her luminous blue eyes on Eva. “Yes, I ’member.”
“I remember you, too,” Eva said. “How are you today?”
“Fine. I have a new purse.” She pointed to the purse hanging over her arm.
“Very nice. It matches your outfit. I bet pink’s your favorite color.”
“Uh-huh.” Sasha grinned shyly.
“She always has to be color-coordinated.” Eileen favored her charge with a smile. “Not like me,” she added, pointing to her orange blouse and red cardigan sweater.
“I like my outfits to match, too.” Eva gestured at her brown shirt and slacks.
“You look pretty,” Sasha said.
“Why, thank you.”
“Hey, Sasha, I thought I heard your voice.”
April Hensen, clutching a piece of paper in her hand, entered the room. Her flip-flops slapped across the floor as she headed for Mark’s desk. Leaning down, she gave Sasha a hug.
As April straightened, her free hand brushed Mark’s shoulder in a gesture that seemed intentional, rather than accidental. April always seemed to hover around Mark. Were they more than boss and employee?
Mark and April’s relationship was no business, or concern, of hers.
“Here’s the flyer for the picnic.” April laid the paper on Mark’s desk. She looked around wide-eyed. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No problem, April.” Mark lowered Sasha to the floor and turned his attention to the paper April had brought.
Sasha danced over to Eva. “Are you coming to the picnic?”
“What picnic is that?”
“The Fourth of July picnic. Huh, Daddy?” Sasha looked to Mark for confirmation.
Mark sat back in his chair. “Right, sweetie.” He looked at Eva. “It’s at the City Park and sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce. The entire town is invited. We’re including these flyers in the next edition of the paper.” He tapped the sheet in front of him. “We’re covering the event, of course.”
“You have to come,” Sasha said. “There are games and prizes and fireworks!”
Eva didn’t want to spend the Fourth of July—or any holiday—in Willow Beach. This occasion would be a good time to take Susan up on her invitation to stay in Seattle. “Yes, the picnic’s always been a popular celebration. It sounds like fun, but I plan to go home that weekend.”
Sasha’s brow wrinkled. “Home?”
“To Seattle. That’s where I really live.”
“Eva’s only here in Willow Beach for a year,” Mark said. “Then she’s going back to her home in Seattle.” He turned back to Eva. “But about the picnic—you’re writing the Our Town column, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“And doesn’t the picnic sound like an event for your column?”
“Ordinarily. But it’s the Fourth of July. Won’t that rate a front-page feature? And wouldn’t that be you?”
She glanced at the others. Eileen and April had their gazes glued to Mark, anticipating his answer. Even Sasha, who’d been fussing with her purse, was now focused on her father.
Mark folded his arms and glared at Eva. She set her jaw and glared back.
Seconds passed. Finally, he shrugged. “Go to Seattle. We’ll get along just fine without you.” He turned away and shuffled some papers on his desk.
“I’d already made plans before I knew about the picnic,” she felt obliged to say. True enough, even though she hadn’t yet checked with Susan to see if that weekend would work for her, too. But Susan had said to come anytime, hadn’t she?
“I wish you could come to the picnic,” Sasha said.
“Never mind, honey.” April patted Sasha’s shoulder. “We’ll have a good time.”
Eileen grasped Sasha’s hand. “We need to go, honey. We don’t want to be late for your ballet lesson.”
“Bye, Sasha.” Eva waved. “Nice to see you again.”
“Bye.”
After Sasha and Eileen left, Mark turned to April. “Was there something else, April?”
“I need to talk to you.” She rolled her eyes and tipped her head in Eva’s direction.
Seizing the blatant hint as a chance to escape, Eva stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get to work.”
* * *
“HAVE A SEAT, April.” Mark nodded at the chair Eva had vacated.
April sidled to the chair and perched on the edge. The slight flush to her normally pale complexion sent tension rippling across his shoulders.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.
“I, um, thought you and Sasha might want to come to my place for dinner tonight. I’m making spaghetti, and my housemate has a night class at the junior college.”
Yep, as he’d suspected, her reason for lingering was personal. “That’s nice of you, April, but I’ll be working late. I’ll only have time to grab a bite at the deli.”
April’s forehead wrinkled. “Sasha could come, though, couldn’t she? She and I always have fun together.”
“Sorry, I’ve already arranged for her to have dinner at Eileen’s.”
April lowered her gaze and shifted in her chair. “I hope things between us won’t change now that Eva is here,” she said in a low voice.
At the mention of an “us,” Mark inwardly cringed. A few months ago, he and April had seen each other at a concert on the beach, and he’d invited her for a bite to eat afterward. Since then, she’d had the idea he was personally interested in her. As gently as he could, he’d tried to make it clear that wasn’t the case. She was a valued employee and a good friend only, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“I’m still your boss,” he said carefully, “but Eva is a boss, too.”
“I’ll take orders from her if I have to,” she said in a petulant tone. “But that’s not what I meant. What about us?”
Mark spread his hands. “I’ve explained that I’m not ready for a new relationship. Don’t take it personally.”
April pushed out her lower lip. “It’s been three years since your wife died. I’d think that would be long enough to wait before moving on.”
Mark kept his voice firm. “I’ll decide when I’m ready, okay? Now, what about your Police Beat column? I’ll need your copy by the end of today.”
April huffed, “I know when my deadline is.”
After she left, Mark leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Dealing first with Eva and then with April had drained him of the energy and enthusiasm he usually brought to the job.
Seb created this mess, he realized, and for a moment, he shared some of Eva’s resentment toward the man. Had he really thought Mark and Eva would get along and be able to keep the Herald running smoothly?
* * *
EVA SHIFTED FROM side to side in the green vinyl chair, trying to get comfortable. No luck; the seat part was too short for her long legs, and the wooden arms extended at an awkward angle so that her elbows kept falling off. The small TV set that had come with the furnishings was broadcasting the evening’s news, but she wasn’t watching. She was mulling over her first day on the job at the Herald.
She’d read June Baker’s files, which, as she’d suspected, were full of the kinds of articles that appealed to the citizens of a small town: local woman bank teller promoted to manager; high-school graduate awarded scholarship to prestigious school; local truckers lamenting the high cost of gasoline.
At lunchtime, instead of eating alone at one of the town’s diners, she’d walked back to her apartment and made a tuna sandwich.
In the afternoon, Mark had emailed her an article from one of their freelancers to edit. The topic was a recent quilt show at the community center. Eva had to admit the accompanying photos were bright and colorful, but the article itself was, in her opinion, pedestrian. Still, she’d performed the best editing job she could do without drastically altering the text. When she’d ventured to suggest to Mark that the article was uninteresting, his response was that Lettie Snow, who’d written the piece, was, in his opinion, one of their most talented writers and suggested that if she thought she could do better, she was welcome to try.
This terse exchange had taken place in the hallway in hushed voices. Still, Eva had noticed Dora’s and Bernie’s heads popping up from their cubicles to see what was going on. She’d told Mark no, thank you, and marched back to her own cubicle.
After work, not feeling like cooking and not being much of a cook anyway, she’d stopped at the supermarket and bought the makings of a salad.
Now the evening stretched before her like a yawning hole. She’d never be able to last an entire year. Never.
At least she could escape for the Fourth of July weekend. She was sure Mark and the others no more wanted her at the picnic than she wanted to be there. Which reminded her that she’d better let Susan know she was coming.
She picked up her cell phone and punched her friend’s number on the speed dial.
“How’d your first day go?” Susan asked when she came on the line and they’d exchanged greetings.
“Stressful, but I managed to make it through to the end. What’s new at the magazine?”
“Rolling along at high speed, as usual. Today a bunch of us went to lunch at the Four Seasons.”
“Oh, one of my favorite places.”
“I know, and you were missed.”
“Has anyone been hired to replace me yet?”
“Nope. Still interviewing.”
“I’d like to think it’s because my shoes are hard to fill,” Eva joked.
Susan laughed. “No doubt.”
They chatted for a few minutes, then Eva said, “Okay if I come up for the Fourth? Trying out my own guest room will be fun.”
The silence that followed raised an alarm. Then Susan said, “Oh, Eva, I’m sorry, but my cousins Julie and Lanette are coming for the holiday. You could sleep on the sofa, though.”
Eva pictured the curved sofa in her living room, comfortable to sit on but hardly suitable as a bed. “No, I don’t think that would work.”
“How about the weekend after that?”
“I really wanted to come for the Fourth.”
“I don’t know what to say, except I’m sorry.”
They talked a few minutes longer and then said goodbye. Eva punched off the call, heavy with disappointment.
Now, unless she wanted to hide out in her apartment or go someplace other than Seattle, she had no excuse for not attending the Willow Beach Fourth of July celebration.
CHAPTER FIVE
IF THERE WAS ONE THING Eva wasn’t going to give up with her move to the coast, it was exercise. At home, she belonged to a health club located in downtown Seattle, not far from the office, so she could stop in before or after work. Sometimes, she even squeezed in a short session during her lunch hour. The club had an indoor track, various exercise machines, a swimming pool and a hot tub. Everything she needed to stay fit.
Such a place was not to be found in Willow Beach. Knowing that, she’d brought a few weights to use in her apartment. For running, there was the outside track at the high school, but it was far enough away to require driving. That left the beach. The hard-packed sand near the water’s edge provided a good running track and, best of all, it was only a couple blocks from her apartment.
After her third day at the newspaper, Eva put on her jogging shorts, an oversize T-shirt and running shoes. She buckled on her waist pouch and tied a scarf around her head, then left her apartment and headed along the access road to the beach. Weaving through grass-topped dunes that rose and dipped like tiny mountains, she made her way to the shoreline. Overhead, seagulls searching for their supper swooped and cawed while shorebirds on stick legs dodged the breaking waves.
She stopped and took in the scene, memories rolling over her. When they were little, the beach had been a playground for her and Brett. Their mother would sit on a blanket and read while they waded in the water and dug in the sand and chased the seagulls. Years after that, Brett would race along the shore in the car their father bought for him. And now they were gone, all three of them. And she was back here in Willow Beach with only her memories.
Pushing away those troubling thoughts, she took a deep breath and started off, relishing the fresh air and cool sea breeze. The sun had dipped low in the sky, and the surrounding clouds promised a spectacular sunset. Other walkers and joggers were out today, and a few cars passed by, but given the beach’s considerable breadth, there was room for them all.
A man jogging toward her caught her eye. Mark? She squinted across the expanse separating them. Yep, it was Mark. Oh, great. After spending the workday together, she didn’t relish seeing him off-hours. She’d acknowledge him and keep running.
When they were almost abreast, Eva lifted her arm, but Mark skidded to a halt.
“Hey, Eva!”
Reluctantly, she broke her stride. “Mark. Didn’t...expect to see you...here.”
His sleeveless T-shirt showed off more of his arms than usual and his running shorts revealed legs just as strong as she’d imagined. She tried not to stare.
Mark puffed his cheeks and whooshed out a breath. “That...goes for me, too. Didn’t know you were into running.” His gaze swept her from head to toe. “Not that you aren’t, uh, fit—”
She hid a smile. So he was checking her out, too. “I belong to a health club at home. No such thing here, though.”
“There’s always the track at the high school. If I’m not there, I’m out here. Clears my head. And what better setting?” He made a sweeping gesture at their surroundings.
