The assignment rolled around in her mind, leading to more questions. Did Grandfather want her to go with Colin because she was family? Did he not trust Colin? And if so, what was her complete role in this? Watchdog? Relay police? Enforcer? She didn’t like the prospects at all. Colin Wright didn’t appear to be the type to want a woman telling him what he could and couldn’t do.
Grandfather didn’t know anything about the mishap at the barbecue, the flowers and card that Colin had sent the following week as an apology for ruining her clothes, or her struggle to forget the man.
How could she tell Grandfather that while she appreciated his encouragement she did not want this assignment? She might not know exactly what she did want to do with her life yet, but she didn’t need any hands-on experience to know that she wasn’t cut out to be a reporter. Had coming to work here been a mistake after all?
The many nicknames she’d heard for Grandfather over the last ten months came back to her. She’d seen enough to understand why some employees were unhappy with him. He had many decisions to make each day, and some, like assigning her to Colin Wright’s story, were without a doubt going to make someone unhappy. She sympathized wholeheartedly.
When she got home, her answering machine was flashing. Knowing it was probably her grandfather trying to reach her, she touched the play button and began changing into a tank top and cotton boxers then stretched out across the bed to rest before her morning run. Good thing today was a ten-miler. She needed it.
“Nicole, meet me at the house for breakfast in the morning. I want to explain this assignment to you.” The machine beeped to signify the end of her messages and Nikki drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke from her nap, she changed clothes, tied her running shoes and took off for her grandparents’ house. Eight miles later she entered the code into the security system and passed through the tall wrought-iron gate as it opened.
Grandfather met her at the door. “I don’t like you running at this time of day by yourself, Nicole. You never know who could be watching you.”
She lifted her right hand to reveal a can of Mace, and a cell phone dangling from the left one. “I’m careful.” Nikki leaned forward to give him a kiss, wondering if he had seen someone hanging out at the newspaper recently. Don’t be ridiculous, Nik, it’s just your imagination, she thought. “I was shocked by your memo. I thought we agreed I’d somehow skip over the reporter phase of the internship.”
He patted her shoulder. “Not even any small talk this morning?” He nodded. “I know you don’t want to write, but I need you on this assignment, Nicole.”
She opened a bottle of spring water and poured it over ice in a crystal goblet. “I wouldn’t know where to start to write an article for a newspaper. Especially for one the size of the Gazette.”
Grandfather looked at her with such astonishment that she was ashamed of herself for disagreeing with him. “I trust you, Nicole. You won’t let me down.”
“I simply don’t want to embarrass you, Grandfather. I know there’s a lot riding on Colin finishing the stunt, and I’ve never written anything for publication.”
Grandmother joined them then, carrying a platter of fresh fruit. “Morning, Nicole. This is quite a treat to have you here for breakfast today.”
Nikki followed Grandmother to the kitchen to help serve the rest of the meal. “It came as quite a surprise to me as well, but at least a nice one. You do know what’s happened, don’t you? Grandfather has assigned me to write articles on Colin Wright’s fund-raiser!”
Grandmother handed Nikki a homemade quiche and followed with a basket of pastries and a pitcher of juice. “You’ll do just fine, darling. Sometimes it’s good to stretch ourselves.”
“Is that what you call this? Stretching myself? Humph.” Nikki set the pie plate onto the trivet and seated herself between her grandparents. Grandmother said a quick blessing, barely squeezing it in before Grandfather continued to discuss her assignment.
“I’m not kidding when I say I have no clue how to write an article, Grandfather.”
“You read the newspaper every day. You’re a bright girl…” Every insecurity from her childhood returned with that one phrase, bright girl. She’d heard it often enough from her teachers, her dance instructors and even her parents. It had turned out to mean she wasn’t the most intelligent girl in the class, nor the most talented dancer, and she’d better find another means of support. She nibbled on her quiche and bypassed the temptation to drown her sorrows with a Danish.
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