Part 3 (2/2)
”I wish I could forget,” said Lucy. ”I was the den mother. They led me a merry chase. Those boys were a handful.”
”They all turned out fine, though,” said Pam. ”My Tim's helping to rebuild New Orleans, Richie's going to make a big archaeological discovery... .”
Rachel smiled at the reference to her son. ”We'll see.”
”Oh, yes he is,” said Pam. ”Toby's a fine father... .”
”And someday he'll actually get that college degree,” said Lucy, fretting about her son.
”He'll be a captain of industry,” said Rachel. ”And Eddie.” She paused, thinking, while Norine refilled their mugs. ”Do you think he'll become a cop like his dad?”
Lucy bit her lip. ”You know, I think he may need some time to figure out what he wants to do. I said the town would probably have a welcome home parade and Barney said he doesn't want a fuss.”
Rachel's face clouded. ”Oh, dear. I hope he doesn't have post-traumatic stress syndrome like so many returning vets.”
”And I hope he gets started on something pretty quick,” said Sue. ”It's no good for these kids to hang around aimlessly. Before you know it, they're in the court report for drunk driving or drugs.”
”I know,” said Lucy, with a grim nod. ”We got one at the paper yesterday and I had to format it. I was shocked at the number of drug cases.”
Rachel shook her head. ”It's an epidemic.”
”Where does it all come from?” asked Sue.
”That's a good question,” said Lucy, checking her watch. ”Gosh, I can't believe the time. It's back to the salt mines for me. I've got a budget meeting at ten.”
The ten o'clock news budget meeting had been Ted's idea and Lucy didn't like it much. Deadline was noon Wednesday and the paper came out on Thursday mornings, which meant she used to have all of Wednesday afternoon and Thursday morning free. It was valuable time she used to catch up with her friends and polish off some errands. But Ted had come back from a recent productivity seminar full of ideas, one of which was the budget meeting. Lucy thought the meeting was actually counterproductive-she'd often gathered valuable news tips as she went about town with her list of errands, crossing off grocery shopping at the IGA, vacuum cleaner bags at the hardware store, wine at the liquor store, and mailing bills at the post office. Ted didn't see it that way, however, and now she had to come in at ten instead of twelve-thirty on Thursdays. She didn't even pick up any extra pay; in fact, her salary didn't begin to cover the time she actually worked because she often stayed late at the office on the days the girls had after-school activities and needed a ride home.
The new system had only been in place for a couple of weeks and Lucy wasn't in a good mood when she got to the office. Ted, however, was bursting with ideas.
”Good, you're here,” he announced, turning his desk chair around so it faced the room and pulling over two more chairs to form a circle. ”We can get started. Phyllis, that means you, too. Put the phone on voice mail, please.”
Giving him an evil look, Phyllis punched a few b.u.t.tons before pus.h.i.+ng her chair back and getting to her feet. She hated leaving her comfortable area behind the reception counter, where her chair was just right and items like her enormous pump bottle of Jergens lotion and a big box of tissues were at hand, along with a photo of her husband. She perched uneasily on the chair Ted indicated, then shoved it aside and went back to her desk, wheeling her preferred chair across the office and seating herself.
Lucy was already in place, wrestling with the problem of Sara's job at Fern's Famous, which meant she would need a ride home at five-thirty.
”Let's begin,” said Ted, rubbing his hands together. ”Lucy, you have the usual selectmen's meeting. I'll take the school committee and the conservation committee, that should be a hot one because of the proposed toilets at the town beach.”
”About time,” said Phyllis. ”Those Porta-Potties stink.”
”APTC wants those ecological earth closets, composting toilets,” said Ted. ”They're up in arms over a septic system so close to the cove.”
”That's not news,” said Lucy, who knew the letters stood for the a.s.sociation for the Preservation of Tinker's Cove. ”They're always up in arms.”
”I'll follow up on the Max Fraser investigation,” said Ted, consulting his notebook.
Lucy started to protest but he brushed her objections aside. ”I've got something else in mind for you, Lucy.” He turned to Phyllis. ”You handle the events calendar. Is there anything I should be aware of?”
Phyllis gave him a look. ”How the heck am I supposed to know? It's only Thursday, I haven't even started.”
”Oh.” Ted looked disconcerted. ”When you file the press releases, don't you read them?”
Phyllis sighed. ”No. I don't have time. I scan them for the date, that's all. So I can file them.”
”Well, in the future, perhaps you could just look them over and make copies for me of the important ones,” suggested Ted.
Phyllis heaved her bust, a gesture that usually boded trouble, and Lucy pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. ”I told you. I don't have time to read them or decide which is important. How do I know, anyway? Is a bake sale important? What about a roast beef dinner at the VFW? How do I decide?”
Ted wasn't about to give up. ”Well, a production by the Harbor Players would be more important than a bake sale, for example.”
Phyllis smiled in triumph. She knew she had him. ”Just you try explaining that to the Junior Women's Club. They think their annual bake sale should be a first-page story.”
”Right,” said Ted, studying his list. ”Moving along, we're going to do a special supplement for the Love Is Best on the Coast weekend. There will be special rates for advertisers, an events calendar, and a story. That's where you come in, Lucy. I want a big feature on a couple, an older couple, who've made love last. Don't be afraid to pull out all the stops-I want this to be over-the-top romantic.”
”Like one of the fiftieth-anniversary couples?” They often ran stories about such couples, usually accompanied by then and now photos. ”The Crabtrees were in the paper last week.”
Phyllis was chuckling. ”You mean the Crabby-trees? They were duking it out at the Quik-Stop the other day.”
”Definitely not the Crabtrees,” said Ted. ”We want a cute, loving couple, not the Bickersons. Maybe even an old couple who fell for each other years ago but married other people, but then their spouses died and they found each other again. They reconnected.” Ted was beaming, he really liked this idea.
Lucy didn't. ”How in heck am I supposed to find this adorable couple?”
Ted shrugged. ”Ask around. You'll turn up something, you always do.”
Lucy chewed her lip thoughtfully, trying to come up with a suitable couple and, much to her surprise, coming up with a few names that she scribbled down.
”That's it, ladies,” said Ted, with a satisfied nod. ”I think we made some good progress this morning.”
”Hold on,” said Lucy, remembering the conversation at Jake's. ”I'd like to do something about illegal drugs and youth. Have you seen the court report lately? There's a big uptick. We could follow up on your interview with the governor's wife.”
Ted shook his head. ”Trust me, Lucy. That's too big for us. We don't have the manpower or budget to do an investigative report like that.” Before Lucy could protest, he swiveled his chair around and reached for the phone on his desk.
Disappointed, Lucy shoved her chair under her desk and stood, tapping her fingers on the chair back. She didn't want to write puff pieces, she wanted to tackle important issues, but she knew that Ted was struggling to keep the paper afloat. Maybe he was right to focus on promoting business, at least for now. She pulled out her chair and sat down, studying her list of loving couples.
She'd jotted down a few notes when Phyllis's husband, Wilf, came in, holding the door for Ted, who was leaving. Wilf was the mail carrier and he set the day's delivery, bound with a rubber band, on the counter. ”Hi, suns.h.i.+ne,” he said, with a wink.
Phyllis blushed and smiled at her husband as if they were still honeymooners. ”Hi, yourself.”
Too bad she couldn't write about them, thought Lucy, but she knew Ted would never go for it. He'd cite journalistic ethics, conflict of interest, or something. Lucy didn't buy it. She figured he just wanted to make her job harder.
”Hi, Wilf,” she said, glancing at her list. ”You know everybody in town, right?”
”And their dirty secrets,” he said. ”Only the trash haulers know more about folks than me.”
”You're just the man I want,” declared Lucy, explaining her a.s.signment to him. ”So tell me, do you think the Wilkersons, over there on Bridge Street, would be good subjects?” The Wilkersons had recently announced their fiftieth wedding anniversary and had even renewed their vows.
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