Page 78 of Home Body
She hadn’t been able to sleep, her cautious excitement over the chain of events her story was bound to create overwhelming her. Her stomach growled and she wished Mama Mamie’s Bakery was already open so she could pop in for a cinnamon twist and coffee while reading her paper.
A rustle behind her made her turn to see through the glass on the bank door that a gentlemen unlocked it from inside. He came out and stood beside her, saying, “Good morning, miss. Lovely day, isn’t it?”
A jovial gent, he appeared to be “somebody,” leaving Kenyon to wonder if she should know who he was. Middle-aged with sparse hair, glasses, a dark suit, and a natty tie and pocket hankie, he obviously worked at the bank.
“Yes, lovely,” she replied.
“I haven’t seen you out here before. I get the paper every day.” He checked his watch. “David will be here in two minutes. He’s always right on time.” He tapped his timepiece.
“Ah. Good.” Bursting to share her news, even to a stranger, she let go. “I have my first article in the paper today. I’m a new reporter.”
“You don’t say! Why, that’s marvelous. Congratulations. Oh, there he is.”
A Chevy truck rumbled up and a boy hopped down from the bed with a bundle of papers almost as big as he was and tossed them next to the machine. The driver got out and hollered, “Hey, Mr. Van Natter! Good morning, sir.” That man used a large key to unlock the machine, open it up, and toss in the papers. After the bundle was in, he pulled out a jackknife and cut the strings that held it together. Pulling off the two top copies, he handed one to each of the waiting customers.
“Thank you, David.” The man that Kenyon now knew to be Mr. Van Natter handed him two fifty-cent pieces. “David, we have the author on one of today’s articles right here with us. Let’s see, which article might that be.”
Kenyon stared at the headline on page one.Local Baby-selling Scheme Uncovered!Her name sat right under it. She pointed, almost unable to speak. “This one.”
The driver bent over the paper in Mr. Van Natter’s hands. “Whoa. That’s a doozie of a story. Well done, miss. We gotta go. Goodbye Mr. Van Natter. ’Bye, miss.” He and the boy and their many bundles of newspapers with Kenyon’s byline drove away.
“My, it must have been difficult covering such a horrific story,” Mr. Van Natter said.
Kenyon instantly liked him. His quick assessment of the story showed compassion.
“Yes, it was, especially because a friend of mine is involved. In fact, my mom is Llayne O’Brien on WXYZ news. She’s reporting on it at six. I’m on my way to my friend’s to watch. ’Bye.” She started to walk away but stopped. “Oh no. I didn’t pay him for my paper.”
“That’s fine. I covered it, Kenyon.”
It took her a moment to catch how he knew her name. It was right there in his hands. She supposed that would happen again and again now. It was her first experience with a speck of fame, and it felt exciting and scary at the same time. But she had to admit to herself that she liked it. “Thank you, Mr. Van Natter. I appreciate it.”
“You’re most welcome.”
At the farm, she joined Kenyon and Mamie in their living room to watch her mom’s report. Brody had volunteered to sidetrack Rose with feeding the chickens. A five-year-old didn’t need to hear such distressing news.
The three women sat on the edges of their seats as the morning news show began. After all the preliminaries with graphics, voice-over, and music, Llayne, looking professional as ever, began.
“Good morning. Today we begin with a local story that is bound to have national, if not international, repercussions. The FBI is investigating a case that began when local authorities in Amberton, Michigan, uncovered a cold case of kidnapping and selling babies that spanned twelve long years with as many as six-hundred newborns being involved….”
They hung on her every word, proud that she handled the story with finesse, precisely what Kenyon expected from her mother. She realized she should start paying more attention to her mom’s work. It would inform her in her own work as an investigative journalist. Llayne didn’t reveal yet that she’d had a baby there; that would come in the evening special. Thereport ended with an FBI phone number anyone could call with suspicions, tips, or questions. Afterward, Llayne disappeared from the news desk, leaving it to her able colleague to cover the rest of the morning’s news.
Mamie gathered everyone in the kitchen and fed them a healthy breakfast, over which the adults discussed wedding plans, avoiding the news for the sake of the child in the room. After that, Kenyon needed to go home to get some sleep. But once she was back on the road, she felt restless. She wasn’t required to be at work in Detroit until the next morning at nine. That meant she had an entire day to meander.
As he so often did, Bart the Bartender came to mind. Why hadn’t she asked for his last name? She’d been in the throes of initial attraction and hadn’t really been thinking clearly. His family lived only an hour away over the border in Ohio. But he was no doubt still in Cabos. It wouldn’t do any good to head south unless she wanted to make an out-of-country road trip.
In dire need of gas, she stopped at a station to fill up. Inside, she greeted the clerk, who she’d gone to high school with, and bought an orange pop and lottery tickets.
“Hey,” the clerk said, “some guy was in here yesterday looking for you. I didn’t tell him anything in case he was, like, a creeper or something.”
“Thanks for watching out for me, Gwen. Wow. That is creepy, isn’t it? Did he say anything else?”
“Just that he met you in Mexico and he was trying to find you. I confess, he was cute. Tall and everything.”
Kenyon’s brain froze. Bart the Bartender? He was looking for her? Quickly, her brain thawed and came alive with anticipation. “Any idea if he’s staying in town or anything?”
“Yeah. Come to think of it, he mentioned the Farmdale Inn.”
“Thanks!” Kenyon was already halfway out the door.
