Page 3 of Promise Me This Christmas
Larkin peered inside the window to the small cluttered workspace.She spotted two desks and a large table, probably used for layouts.Only one person was in the office, a woman with dark-brown hair cut in a chin-length bob, her head bent over her computer.It made Larkin glad to see evidence of a small local newspaper surviving in the world of instant digital news.On impulse, she checked the door, and finding it unlocked, went inside.
The woman glanced up with a quick smile.She was pretty with a heart-shaped face, and alert dark-brown eyes.“I’ll just be a sec.”
Larkin took the opportunity to browse the framed photos hanging on the wall by the entrance, detailing the history of the paper.It seemed theCourierhad been in the Akers family since inception in 1917.Right in the middle of the First World War.What a time to be a reporter that must have been.
“Can I help you?”
Larkin stepped forward and offered her hand.“Hi, I’m Larkin Carrillo.I work as a staff writer for theWestward Beaconin Denver and I couldn’t resist stopping in.”
“I’m glad you did.I’m Marly Everett, formerly Akers.I love meeting fellow journalists, though I’m sure, to you, our paper here must seem very small peanuts.”She wore a simple, yet elegant diamond and wedding ring set on her left hand, and now that she was standing, it was apparent she was around five months pregnant.Glancing at her desk, Larkin saw a photo of a handsome cowboy holding a cute blond toddler in his arms.
Deep inside, Larkin felt a pang.Maybe theCopper Mountain Courierwas a lot smaller than theWestward Beacon.But this woman had more than a meaningful career.She also had a gorgeous husband and children.It was a package Larkin doubted she’d ever have.
“I’m a big fan of small independent press.It’s tough for journalists of all types these days,” she said.
“Yes.It was a different world back when my great-great-grandfather started this business.But some things are universal.Like people being curious and caring about the events and people in their community.”
“I couldn’t agree more.Fostering a sense of connection and responsibility to your community is what local reporting is all about.”
Marly nodded, then glanced at her watch.“Do you have a few minutes to talk?I make a mean pour-over coffee.”
“I’m already caffeined up for the day.But I’m happy to talk.”
Marly led her to a small office with an antique wooden desk.She invited Larkin into a very comfortable high-backed leather chair, then went to sit behind the desk.“This is supposed to be my office, but I do most of my work in the bullpen.I like looking out at the street.Now tell me what brings you to Marietta.”
“My grandmother.She broke her hip six weeks ago.”
Marly took a moment to process.“Ah, your grandmother must be Ethel Carrillo.She used to write a gardening column for us back when my mother was running the paper.I didn’t know she’d injured herself.How did she fall?”
“Stepping off a curb.She’s really quite spry still, but she said she was distracted by a barking dog, and didn’t realize she was so close to the edge of the sidewalk.”
Marly grimaced.“Oh dear.”
“Gran just finished her rehab three days ago, so I’m here to cover the week up to Christmas.We’re staying at Bramble House B & B while her house gets remodeled to make it safer for her.”At least that had been the plan.Larkin snuck a look at her phone.Still no message from the construction company.
“Interesting…” Marly leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful.“So you’ll be at Bramble House for a while?”
“We leave after Christmas breakfast.”Larkin wondered where this was leading.
“I’m in a bit of a jam,” Marly said.“My senior reporter retired last month, and I haven’t been able to replace him.Honestly, I doubt I’ll ever be able to replace him.”
Larkin hoped Marly wasn’t thinking of her for the position.“I’m only in town for a week.”
Marly raised her eyebrows hopefully.“If that should change…”
“It won’t.”
“You sound definite on that.”
“I am.”
“In that case would you be open to taking on an assignment while youarehere?We’ve been profiling local businesses at theCourier, and I was thinking for our Christmas issue it would be apropos to feature Bramble House—in particular their Mable Bramble Christmas Tea fundraiser.”
Larkin didn’t know what to say.Right now it was hard for her to imagine returning to Bramble House at all.What if she ran into Carson again?But of course she had to go back for her grandmother.It was already past the time Gran usually ate her lunch.Was it possible Carson wasn’t staying for the entire week?Could she dare hope he’d be gone by the time she returned?
Somehow, she doubted she would be that lucky.
“It shouldn’t take too long to write,” Marly cajoled.“Take some pretty festive photos, interview the owners, write a bit about the history—the house was originally built by one of our early copper barons, Henry Bramble—and then mention the tea and how proceeds are used to help underprivileged kids attend the local rodeo school.It would really help me out.”
