Frank stood in the parking lot and watched the taillights on Lani’s car disappear down the road. He hated like sin to see her leave, but she had work to do, and he understood that. What he didn’t understand was what they were facing next. Houston was about six hours away, and while it could be worse, that did fall into the long-distance category. Would they be able to get to know each other with so many miles separating them? Had they even built enough of a foundation over the last two days to build on?
Benjamin walked up behind him and clapped him on the back. “She seems like a really great lady,” he said. “So, when’s the announcement?”
“I don’t know if there’s even going to be one,” Frank replied. “She’s going back to Houston tomorrow, and we haven’t had enough time to fall in love yet.”
“But you’ve fallen in like,” Benjamin remarked.
“Yeah, I’ve definitely fallen in like.” Frank turned and gave his brother a grin. “And it’s kind of fun.”
***
As soon as Lani got back to her hotel room, she took a hot shower. Sunshine was a sweet girl, but that didn’t mean Lani wanted to smell like a horse indefinitely. She dried off and put on some flannel pajamas, then opened her laptop. Her email program came up first, showing the draft of the letter she’d composed to her editor the night before, but hadn’t sent yet. She read it over again, but kept it in her drafts folder while she finished writing her article.
It took her about an hour to add in the things she’d learned that day, then another half hour to read everything over and make sure it was how she wanted it. She’d done the bulk of the work the night before, but she’d do the bulk of the worrying now. There was always stress associated with turning in a piece of work—her editor could reject it outright, he could demand rewrites, he could give her some sappy little story about a grandma who knitted and send someone else out to do the job. She liked grandmas who knit, but that was beside the point. She couldn’t build a career on knitting.
She pressed her fingers into her eyeballs and held them there for a minute until she saw spots, then opened the other document with the smaller article she needed to finish. It was nearly done as well, and twenty minutes later, it was set to go.
Two articles ready to turn in. She glanced at the clock. It was now midnight. Her editor expected to hear from her by six a.m. That was enough time to rewrite everything if she felt it was necessary, but she actually didn’t feel that way at all. This was some of her best work—she was sure of it.
She read her email to her editor over one more time, attached the two articles, and clicked send. Now to spend a sleepless night wondering what he’d say. And also thinking about Frank. There would probably be lots and lots of thinking about Frank.
Just as she was finally drifting off, she got a text. Sunshine loved her outing.
She grinned. That was an awesome way to end the day.
***
The whole way back to Houston, Lani fidgeted in her seat, tapped on her steering wheel, accidently cut people off in traffic—she just couldn’t get her head in the game. She’d gotten an email at six that morning—Mr. Denning wanted to meet with her in his office the second she got home. He was very clear on that point—the second. Not half an hour later, not after a snack and nap. He wanted her driving straight from the McClain ranch to his office. That didn’t sound very good at all, and her nerves were wound tighter than they’d ever been before. And she was essentially the queen of tight nerves.
She grabbed a sandwich halfway there and ate it double time, getting back on the road as quickly as possible. By the time she arrived at the Texas Times building, she was starving again, but she wasn’t about to keep Mr. Denning waiting any longer than she already had.
Being a Saturday, the place was empty except for a few staffers who were running late on their assignments and were trying to catch up. She wasn’t at all surprised that Mr. Denning was in, though—she actually had her doubts that he even owned a house. He pretty much lived in his office.
As soon as she entered, he whirled on her from where he stood at the window, clutching some sheets of paper in his hand.
“This isn’t what I asked for,” he said, shaking the papers and crumpling them at the same time. “I told you to bring me some dirt. Where’s the dirt?”
“There’s no dirt,” she told him. “The McClains are genuinely good people. No affairs, no drug abuse, no child endangerment—there was nothing to find.”
“Everyone has a secret,” he told her, dropping the papers on his desk. “Everyone. Give me enough time, I could dig up a story on Mother Teresa.”
“People have already tried and no one cares,” Lani replied.
“That’s not the point. You were given an assignment, you failed to do the assignment, and what’s up with this email?” He picked up another sheet of paper. “‘My research into the McClain family has proven what good people they are, and our readers will be inspired and excited to support their fundraiser this fall.’ Did you fall off the turnip truck and hit your head? Or did you miss the whole conversation where I gave you a new directive?”
“I know you did, sir, but I couldn’t go along with it.” She’d known that from the first minute she’d read his note, but she hadn’t wanted to tell him until she could send her refusal along with the completed article about the fundraiser. She’d hoped to show him all the positive that was being done so he’d let go of this crazy idea, but no—her plan had backfired. “Maybe you should drive out and meet them for yourself. I think you’d be impressed.”
“I’m not going to drive out there and do something that I can hire someone else to do for me,” he retorted. “The entire point of leadership is delegation. You arrange your people around you like a snowflake or a spider web, and you delegate. That’s how businesses run. That’s how power is created. That’s working smart, Lani. But you . . . I can’t believe you fell apart on me like this.”
“I didn’t fall apart on you, sir. I sent you two very good articles, both of which are ready to be printed now, actually. You’ve lost nothing.”
“A fluffy piece on the do-gooders at this boys’ ranch, and a write-up of the baked bean contest at Mac’s Grill? This isn’t journalism. This is . . . crap.”
“In the first place, you asked me to attend that bean contest. And second, marketing is wrong. These are exactly the kinds of stories our readers want, and I don’t know why you’re trying to go edgy when it will cost you your magazine.”
He glared at her. “Are you telling me how to run my own company?”
“No, sir. I’m telling you how to avoid losing it.” She pulled herself to her full height. “I’m tendering my resignation, sir. Those are the last two articles you’ll be receiving from me.”
“What? You can’t quit.” Mr. Denning looked flustered.
“Why? Because you’re firing me?”
“No, because I need reporters.”
“I imagine that you’ll find any number of rookies eager to do whatever it takes to move up the ladder, including digging up dirt on completely innocent people so you can turn your respectable magazine into a tabloid. I just won’t be around to watch that happen.”
Lani turned on her heel and left the office, both shocked at her own boldness and overwhelmed with relief. She took her few personal items off her desk, shoved them into her oversized bag, contemplated stealing the stapler because it was an office tradition, decided against it, and left.
Once in her car, she sat there and breathed for several seconds, trying to calm her heart rate. She still couldn’t believe she’d actually done that. She’d defied her boss, quit the best journalism job she’d ever had, and passed up the chance for a free stapler. She didn’t know where she was going to go from here, whether she’d be able to find another job in the magazine industry, or how she was going to pay the next month’s rent. All she knew was that she felt proud of herself for the first time in a really long time.