A Place in Her Heart Read online

  “So telling local shop owners and businesses that they are dumb and ‘archaic’ is going to get them to listen to Gavin’s brave new vision for Holmes Crossing and other smaller towns?” Becky walked past Rick to the window overlooking the street, as if drawing strength from the community laid out below her. “These people down there know more than anyone else what they are facing. Rubbing their noses in it isn’t going to sell this magazine.”

  Rick pushed himself off his desk, and as he came to stand behind Becky she caught a vague hint of his aftershave and soap, felt the warmth of his chest close to her back. He was too close but she suppressed the urge to move away. To do so would be to admit his dominance over her.

  “But giving them practical advice will help sell the magazine,” he said, his voice quieter now. “People will respond to that.”

  Becky turned to face him. Mistake. She had to look up to catch his eyes. And as she did, she noticed the change. In spite of the fact that she was arguing with him, his anger had dissipated and in their blue depths she caught a glint of humor.

  He’s enjoying this, she thought with a start. I’m trying to defend a sensible and practical position and he’s laughing at me.

  She crossed her arms tightly over her chest as if holding back her rising frustration. “What people will respond to is the underlying tone of Gavin’s article. Superiority.”

  “I think you’re being overly sensitive.”

  Rick’s words were waved in front of her like a gentle taunt. She swallowed back her response. And tried smiling again.

  “I take it you’re going to run Gavin’s article no matter what I say.”

  Rick nodded. Decisively.

  “Then I have nothing more to say,” she said, slipping past him. She gathered up the papers and tapped them into a neat pile, buying herself some time. Surprisingly she felt reluctant to leave. She had foolishly hoped her opinion would have counted for something but she couldn’t throw out the words that would make him understand.

  She glanced one more time back up at him and as their eyes met, she felt it again. That peculiar feeling of connection.

  The ring of the phone broke the moment and Becky turned to leave.

  “Well, hello, Mrs. Ellison.”

  In spite of herself Becky spun back.

  Rick held her gaze while he listened, a smile teasing one corner of his mouth. “Sure. I’d love to come for dinner. Next week Saturday should be fine.”

  Becky’s heart did a slow flip. Since Rick had started working here, her home had become a refuge for her. A place she could simply be herself without having to force her smiles.

  Now it seemed her mother was determined to practice the Christian hospitality that Becky was reluctant to extend to her boss.

  “Thanks for the invite. I’ll see you next week.” Rick put the phone back in the cradle and grinned toward Becky. “You look a little disgruntled,” he said.

  “Just plain gruntled,” she returned with calculated crispness. “I was hoping you would reconsider the Gavin articles.” Which wasn’t the full reason for her momentary funk. She was gone this weekend with her children’s choir and was hoping for some time with just her family next weekend.

  “I’m going to run the articles,” Rick said, his tone taking on the edge that Becky recognized all too well. “Just make sure you don’t edit the life out of ’em.”

  “And you make sure you’re on hand with the shields when the rotten tomatoes come sailing in.”

  “When life throws you tomatoes, make salsa,” he quipped with a crooked grin.

  Becky resisted the urge to roll her eyes. At least he was in a better mood than when she came in. Thank goodness for that.

  “Before you go, I want you to empty a couple of days in your busy schedule next month.” Rick rifled through one pile of papers on his tidy desk and pulled one out. “The owners of the Triple Bar J are putting on a fund-raising ride and were hoping we could do a feature article on it.”

  “When?”

  “The third week of the month.”

  Becky’s mind scrambled through her schedule. “I can’t tell you until…”

  “You check out your schedule. The ride is a whole week, but I told them we could go in with them one day and out the next. So it would be two days.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “Soon. I don’t want to miss this chance.”

  “I thought we were getting away from cows and farmers.” The words slipped past her lips before she even realized she had spoken.

  Rick shot her a penetrating look. “Triple Bar J is part of the holdings of a much larger entity. Get them and we’ve got a good ‘in’ on a corporate market.” He waved the paper slowly, as if thinking, his eyes holding hers. “They’ve already expressed a great deal of interest in the article we’re going to be doing on the premier. Said they want to be a part of that issue. You have that under control, don’t you?”

  Becky squirmed a little. She’d had a firm commitment from the premier’s office for a while now. She knew she should have told Rick but was hoping she could hold off long enough so he would end up getting too busy to help her with it. “Yes, I do.”

  “And it’s an exclusive?”

  “Of course.” She stifled her immediate resentment. “Otherwise, what would be the point? Any one of the dailies would scoop us.”

  “Good. Then all we have to do is get this account with Triple Bar J and this magazine will be on the upward swing.” He slapped his hand against the paper in triumph and flashed her a wide smile. “And the sooner that happens, the sooner I’m out of here.”

  “That’s not going to happen in one issue,” Becky retorted. “Or two or three. Our cost overrun is getting a little scary, what with the market survey and all the extra promotion we’re doing.”

  “It will pay back.”

  Becky wasn’t so sure. And he didn’t want to take any money from Grandfather Colson. Of course, what did it matter to Rick whether the magazine made money or not? One way or the other he had a ticket out of here.

  Back in her office she flipped open her agenda to see if she could squeeze two days out of the week Rick wanted her on the trail ride.

  Notes and scribbles filled all available space before and after.

  A thread of panic spiraled up within her as she looked at her full days and evenings. She had promised her editor that she would have a proposal in his hands in a couple of months. All she had so far was a rough idea and a lot of scratched-out writing. She thought she had given herself lots of time. But as she flipped through the weeks ahead she could see chunks of time gobbled up by work and other activities, some doubling up.

  You don’t find time… You make time. She remembered Rick’s words.

  That was all well and good, but how? She needed this job and she had other responsibilities in the church that she couldn’t shirk. God had given her many gifts and she didn’t feel right if she didn’t use them.

  She had already canceled a meeting for tomorrow night because Rick wanted to discuss the new layout of the magazine with Design. That was a guaranteed three-aspirin meeting. Cliff had been haranguing her for the past week about taking care of him. And Rick was going to talk about using stock photos for the next few issues.

  Blessed are the peacemakers, Becky thought, pushing her Day-Timer aside.

  She started in on Gavin’s article. It grated even harder on closer reading. Easy for Rick to approve this veiled rant at the businesses of Okotoks. He was going to be out of here as soon as possible. She deleted a few of the more offensive adjectives. Hardly editing the life out of them, as Rick had warned her, but hardly the damage control she had hoped to inflict.

  She wound a bit of hair round her finger as she mentally ticked off her options. Edit it to her standards and run the risk of getting Rick riled up?

  Run it with a disclaimer so she could at least look her fellow community members in the eye?

  Or offer an alternative.

  As the last
thought slipped lightly into her mind, Becky caught it. Another column. Something positive. Upbeat and uplifting. And done free of charge.

  She knew exactly who could do it.

  Rick flipped through the binder holding the final proof of the magazine. From here, the first new and improved Going West would head to the printer. “Looks good, Cliff. I like the new font and the spacing is very pleasing. What do you think, Becky?”

  Becky tapped her pencil against her lip as she studied the mock-up in front of her. This new issue of Going West had a sharper edge. The headlines were punchier, the pictures bolder.

  It was still a shock to see huge blocks of ads cutting into the articles and marching down the sides of pages. Rick and his sales staff had been busy little beavers to garner this much extra advertising in such a short while.

  “It’s definitely moving in the direction you’re headed,” she said, hoping her words sounded more encouraging than she felt.

  “When will we be moving away from the stock photos?” Cliff asked, his chair creaking out his annoyance.

  “When we start to pull out of our overdraft.”

  “Which will happen when?”

  Thankfully Rick ignored Cliff’s belligerence. “It will take a few issues. I’m pinning a lot on our October issue.” Rick threw Becky a sidelong glance. “Becky and I are going to be covering the Triple Bar J Western Ride and we’ll get you some photos you can work with.”

  “But those photos won’t work for fall.”

  “We’re not going to be as seasonal as we would like, but it’s an interesting topic and I’m hoping we’ll get some great pictures,” Becky said, frowning a warning at Cliff. Looked like she was going to have another hand-holding session with him after this meeting.

  “Who’s going to be taking those?” Cliff asked, his voice a study in peevishness.

  “I will,” Rick said. “And the article is as much about the ride as an advertorial for the Triple Bar J,” Rick continued.

  The heavy silence that followed his comment said more than any complaint or protest could have.

  Becky flipped to another page in the binder, past Gavin’s article, the sound swishing through the quiet. “You’ve done a good job with the layout,” Becky said to Cliff, her small peace offering. “It has an energy the other issues didn’t.”

  “Thanks, Becks.” Cliff accepted her praise with a crooked grin. “I put this new column you gave me opposite Gavin’s, like you suggested.”

  “Which column?” Rick flipped the page, as well, frowning.

  Becky rocked lightly in her chair to cover her sudden flip of nerves. “We had to hold back the article slated for that page. It didn’t fit in size and content. I had to make a last-minute decision on this column. Might turn it into a regular.”

  “‘Runaround Sue’?” Rick’s tone didn’t bode well. “Who is she and why isn’t there a picture with the byline?”

  “Sue prefers to remain anonymous for now. And I respect that.”

  Rick glanced down at the article and heaved a sigh as he started reading aloud. “‘He’s a man with a mission,’” Rick read. “‘With single-minded attention he tears down the road, accelerator pushed to the limit, unafraid of what the journey might bring him. He dares all challenges and laughs at danger. He has youth. He has energy.’” Rick paused at the paragraph break. “‘He has his father’s truck.’” Rick looked up from the binder, shaking his head. “What is this about and why wasn’t I consulted?”

  Because you’d probably have vetoed it.

  “When Cliff showed me the mock-ups I realized we would either have to split the original article twice or come up with something shorter. I figured this would work better. It’s light and balances Gavin’s column.” Becky paused and delivered her strongest shot. “And Sue is doing this gratis for now.” Which was a small point given the declining financial situation.

  Rick jerked his chin toward her. “I don’t know if I like the direction. Family humor?”

  “Light humor,” Becky corrected. “A kind of positive note to lighten things up a bit. Everyone likes to smile. Chuckle a little.”

  Rick blew out a sigh and caught his lower lip between his teeth. He wasn’t pleased, but Becky knew that any change at this stage would cause expensive delays.

  “We’ll run it for now,” he conceded, slapping the binder shut. “The rest looks great, everyone. Good job. Let’s get this to the printer.”

  In the shuffle to leave, Becky winked at Cliff, thankful for Rick’s sudden affirmation.

  “Becky, I need to talk to you before you leave,” Rick said as Becky got up.

  She sank back into her chair, stifling a groan. While she waited for Cliff to leave, she managed not to tap her fingers on the arm of the chair or swing her foot in impatience. She had a meeting at the church in fifteen minutes.

  Rick waited by his desk until the door closed behind the last person. Once again he perched on the edge of his desk. Once again he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “A quick note to let me know what you were doing with this ‘Runaround Sue’ would have been in order here.”

  She knew he was right, but she also knew it would have been an uphill battle to convince him to run it. Apologizing took less time than asking permission.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, holding his steady gaze. “You’re right.”

  Rick’s eyes took on an inward look. “Why won’t you tell me who Sue is?”

  Becky released the tension in her shoulders with a slow “What can I do?” shrug. “She prefers to remain anonymous.”

  “As well, I gave you Gavin’s next four columns. I think you could afford me the same courtesy.”

  “I’ll get them to you as soon as she gets them to me.” She pulled the binder close and scooted to the edge of her chair. “Is that all?”

  Rick stroked his chin with his thumb, his lips flirting with a smile. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re hiding something?”

  “Because you don’t trust people.”

  Becky slapped her fingers to her mouth as if to stop them, but it was too late. The words were out, hanging between them like a taunt.

  “Maybe I’ve had reason not to,” he said before she had a chance to apologize.

  His abrupt turn away from her was a classic signal for her to leave and time was ticking. But in his words Becky caught the vaguest hint of sorrow.

  “Why not?” She asked the question quietly, hoping to offset the callousness of her previous comment.

  Rick glanced back over his shoulder, as if surprised she was still there. He held her curious gaze a moment. “Trust is a relationship,” he said finally.

  “I’m sure moving around all the time doesn’t help you build relationships.”

  “It suits me.”

  “And what if you meet someone special? Don’t you think you’ll want to settle down then?”

  Rick shrugged, his charming smile back in place. “Hasn’t happened yet, so I don’t need to make that kind of decision, do I?”

  “But you might.”

  “I doubt it. Most women like their men to put down roots. I can’t think of any reason I’d want to do that.”

  Becky thought of his empty Day-Timer and his lack of connections. A quick glance around his office reinforced that. Nelson had had pictures of his family and holidays decorating most of the walls and jostling for space on his desk. Her own office held pictures of nieces, nephews, brothers, sisters, parents, friends. She was running out of room on the bulletin board for more photos.

  Rick’s desk held only papers and the walls were still bare. Not a photograph or snapshot in sight.

  She felt a flash of pity and sorrow.

  “I hope you change your mind someday,” she said as she got up. “I believe we all need a place to call home.”

  Rick held her gaze a moment, his blue eyes delving deep into hers as if searching out her secrets. “And why do you care, Rebecca Ellison?”

  She couldn’t look away, and as
the moment lengthened, an indistinct emotion shifted deep within Becky and she felt herself softening toward him. “Because I believe you are also a child of God.”

  Rick laughed, cynicism edging the sound. “I’m nobody’s child, Becky. Least of all God’s.”

  And of all the things he said, that was the saddest of all.

  Chapter 6

  “Before I leave, I thought I’d get you the rest of the mail,” Trixie said, dropping a bundle of opened letters onto Becky’s desk. Becky flipped through them with one hand while she ate her sandwich with the other. She had spent the entire day running around and had just come into the office to answer a few phone messages and chase down a couple of articles for the next issue. Somewhere in all of the mess that was turning out to be her evening, she had to find a chance to work on another “Runaround Sue” column and get to a meeting with the youth pastor.

  “The magazine has only been out a week. We’ve never gotten this kind of response before,” Becky mumbled, wiping the crumbs with the cuff of her shirt.

  “Most of them are from businesses. Most of them look handwritten.” Trixie pursed her lips. “I sorted them into positive and negative but overall, I’d say not good.”

  Becky skimmed the first one, mentally separating herself from the anger spilling out on the pages. Countless times her father had told her not to take the letters personally. She tried, but she had a long ways to go before harsh words didn’t give her a clench in the pit of her stomach and a desire to go running to the writer to apologize for anything that might have caused offense.

  “Has Rick seen these?”

  “He’s at a Rotary Club meeting. Didn’t think he’d be back at the office tonight.”

  “I guess I’ll wade through these then, once I’m done working on this profile.” She was also going to have to phone the church and tell the youth pastor she wouldn’t be making the meeting tonight. Which also meant she wouldn’t have time to work on her book proposal. She pushed down a beat of resentment. Work was taking up too much time. And most of the work was thanks to Rick. “Thanks, Trixie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”