“I’d love to! Um, I mean, sure, no problem.”
Sally walked Jack to the Mustang, then stood there feeling foolish and girlish and awkward while he fumbled for his keys. Was it just her or did he seem a little nervous, too? What possible reason could he have to…?
Their eyes met. Overhead a million stars twinkled like diamonds on a bed of black velvet. Somewhere in the distance a night owl screeched. Then Jack Gold did something so inappropriate, and so utterly unexpected, it left Sally reeling for hours. Instead of shaking hands, he bent down and kissed her gently on the cheek, then jumped into his car and sped off. Just like that.
She let out a yell. Yes! It wasn’t just her! He did feel the attraction, too. Mind whirling, she raced inside and called Charlie. It was late, but so what? He owed her.
“Charlie, sweetie, remember that time I baby-sat your five grandkids?”
“Ah, you’re not gonna bring that up again, are you?”
“Remember how they ran me ragged for three hours?”
“Oh now, Sally, ragged is a strong word….”
“Listen up, Charlie. I need a favor.”
4
“SO, WHY ME?”
Sally glanced sideways at Jack. They were cruising along county road nineteen, the Mustang holding tight to the road as the morning sun warmed their skin.
What did he mean by “why me?” Why do you find me to be the most attractive man who ever lived? Why do you want me to pull over right now and kiss you again, like I did last night, only properly this time? Why…
“I mean, why me specifically?” he pressed. “My editor said you requested me personally. Was it because I won the Gobey?”
Oh! Oh! He was talking about the story.
“Actually, no,” Sally said truthfully. “I don’t mean to diminish your achievement. It’s really something, winning that award. But…it was more the way you won it. Those people in your story, who lost all their pension money to those horrible crooks? You wrote about them as if you really cared about them, as if you really felt their pain and anger.”
Jack flashed her a bemused smile and Sally wondered if she’d assumed too much. Maybe he didn’t give a damn about those poor people. Maybe he wasn’t even capable of feeling that way. Maybe—oh, God—maybe he was just a slick, heartless, egotistical, big-city reporter building his career on the backs of helpless victims.
“I didn’t care about them,” Jack admitted. “Not at first. But by the time I got around to writing their story, I was angry, too. I guess that came through in my copy.”
“Oh, it did!” Mindful of her tendency to gush around the guy, Sally buttoned it and concentrated on the pavement unfolding before them. It was odd, she thought, how comfortable their silences were. They were perfect strangers and they’d gotten off to a bad start. Shouldn’t there be some tension between them? Some awkwardness? Instead they both seemed to use their quiet moments to refuel for the next round. It was refreshing, exciting, wondrous even.
“So, how do you know what a sidebar is?” Jack asked. “Yesterday you said you envisioned a sidebar story along with the main article.”
Sally sighed. Okay, it was wondrous until hotshot opened his mouth to change feet. “This may come as a shock to you, Jack Gold, but some of us hicks in this here hick town actually went to college.”
Grinning, he patted the top of his head.
Sally frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m checking my height. I think I just came down another notch.”
She laughed heartily. So, he could feel another’s pain, and he could laugh at himself. Those were good signs. Two, anyway.
Jack geared down for a steep hill. “Where did you go to college?”
“The University of British Columbia, just like you. I didn’t get a master’s degree, but I did do undergraduate work in journalism along with my regular courses.”
“You’re kidding. When did you graduate?”
“Four years ago,” Sally said. Long after Jack had come and gone from UBC. She didn’t mention that he’d been a minor legend on campus, the one and only former editor of the student newspaper whose editorials were used as the standard by which all such writing should be judged. Jack being Jack, he probably knew that.
“Why didn’t you major in journalism?” he asked. “You’d have made an awesome reporter.”
Oh wow, what a nice thing to say. Sally knew that, of course, but coming from Cracker Jack Gold it was a true compliment. She almost replied that a degree in journalism would have led to a less than glamorous career at the Peachtown Post, but some instinct told her to keep that thought under wraps. Besides, her life had been mapped out long ago.
“I always knew I’d end up doing the job I’m doing. My family has been in this valley for over a hundred years. I have roots here. I can’t imagine living or working anywhere else.”
It was Jack’s turn to clam up now. Sally could just hear him thinking: I could never live in a backwater like this. But he surprised her. “I don’t have roots anywhere. I was an army brat. Lived in base housing all over Canada, went to a new school every year. Never made any real friends.”
“Why did you pick UBC?”
“It had the programs I wanted.”
“Okay, why did you decide to stay in Vancouver?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Hey, who’s doing the interviewing here?”
“Just curious.”
“The Satellite made me the best job offer.”
“So, you aren’t especially—” Sally searched for a word “—loyal to Vancouver then? I mean, do you plan to live there for the rest of your life?”
He shook his head. “I love the West Coast, but I could never be loyal to any one place. Or to any one employer for that matter. It’s a good thing, too. Now that I’ve won the Gobey, I’ll be recruited by major newspapers across the country. Probably in the States, too.”
Wow, what confidence, Sally thought. Not, I’ll probably be recruited, but I will be. It was true, of course. All Gobey winners had their pick of the best jobs available. Soon Jack would be making a name for himself in Montreal or Toronto or New York. There was no sense in getting excited by the possibility of…of what, exactly? What was she thinking? That he might stick around here? Fat chance!
“Where am I going?” he asked as they approached the junction of the county road and Main Street. As planned, Sally instructed him to turn south, away from town. Charlie lived a few blocks north of the town centre, but there was something she needed to show Jack before he hightailed it out of here, as he so clearly wanted to do.
Anyway, enough personal talk. What business of hers was it where he chose to live? “So, I guess you could never live in a place like this, huh?”
Jack glanced over at her just long enough to show surprise. Dumb question, his expression said. “No, I couldn’t. No offense, Sally, but I really don’t want to be here one minute longer than I have to.”
Ouch. Did he have to be so blunt?
“I’ll bet I can guess how you live in Vancouver,” she ventured. Why not have a little fun?
He seemed amused. “Oh yeah? Go for it.”
“Okay. I’ll bet you live in an architecturally correct condo in West Van, with