Molly rubbed her eyes, blurring everything for a moment. She stifled a yawn and studied the back of the cereal box. She’d stayed up way too late the night before at the bowling alley. She and Tim had been caught up in a conversation about … well, all kinds of things and nothing in particular.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up with a frown. Who would call so early in the morning? She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“Good morning.”

Tim’s voice set her heart racing. She straightened and tucked a stray strand of hair behind one ear. “Oh, good morning to you.”

“I just wanted to make sure we’re still on the same page with this whole fake-relationship thing.”

“Uh-huh.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Was he really serious about it? She hadn’t been sure when she left the bowling alley. She hadn’t even mentioned it to Vicky, though her friend was already pushing her to date the man. Perhaps they really should go through with it, so she could prove to Vicky once and for all that she was over her ex and ready to welcome the future and not die alone – a dejected spinster, her body eaten by her mischievous Goldador before the mailman could report the smell. She shook her head with a grimace.

And then there was Granddad’s phone call – she’d heard the regret in his voice when he spoke of his time at the Chronicle with Tim’s grandfather. He wanted to make amends with the Holdens, even if he wasn’t willing to come out and say it. She knew it’d put his mind at ease if they were able to resolve their conflict.

“So we’re gonna do it?” asked Tim.

“If you’re up for it, then I am.” What harm could it do? They’d pretend to be engaged. Vicky would finally get off her case about finding a man. Their families would forget their grievances against each other and applaud Molly and Tim’s selfless act in bringing them together. Granddad would be overwhelmed with gratitude for her role in reconciling him to his oldest friend. Just thinking of it almost brought a tear to her eye – they’d be remembered for generations as the couple who brought peace to the Atlanta newspaper community.

“Good. I wasn’t sure you’d still want to go through with it. But the more I think about it, the more I’m sure it’s an answer to prayer.”

“I think so too.” She did – really. It wasn’t healthy the way Granddad and Daddy carried so much anger and bitterness toward the Holdens. Granddad seemed regretful of their differences, but she knew it would take more than a few moments of nostalgia for him to put it all behind him. Perhaps he needed her help to take that step. She was doing it for him, and for her father.

That she’d get to spend more time with Tim Holden was just a bonus. She knew it could never come to anything, but she liked him, liked being with him. Nothing wrong with that, was there? And as Vicky was always telling her, sometimes it was okay to say yes to things, especially when asked by men who looked so good in a pair of jeans.

“Okay, great. I suggest we start out by saying we’re dating. Then if we feel like we need to take it up a notch, we can pretend to be engaged. It’s more likely to have an impact if they think we’re serious.”

She nodded to herself, trying to picture how her parents might react, and her smile faded. They might not be quite as happy as Vicky. “Yeah … that sounds like a plan to me. And if it doesn’t work out, we can just part as friends.”

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

They hung up and Molly sat still, musing over their conversation. She smiled, remembering the way he’d spoken so passionately about preservation of the north Georgia woods the previous evening. They had more in common than she could’ve imagined when they’d first met. They both loved animals, especially Labradors, and both felt strongly about taking care of the environment, and they both loved God. Spending time together would be a cinch, and she was certain they could pull off pretending to be in love. It was for the greater good, after all.

“Was that Tim?” asked Vicky with a grin. “And what are you smiling so smugly about?” She slumped in a chair across the kitchen table, poured herself a bowl of Chex, then unplugged her iPad and pressed the power button to turn it on.

“Yes, it was. And I’m not smiling about anything, really – just thinking about last night.”

“Uh-huh,” said Vicky with a wink. “I’ll bet you are.”

“Like you can talk. You and Callum seemed to be awfully cozy over there at the bar.”

Vicky shrugged. “It’s not like that. He’s a great guy with a lot of interesting stories to tell. He’s a private investigator, did you know that?”

Molly shook her head. “I’ll have to keep him in mind in case I need help investigating an article in the future.”

“But what about you and Tim? You didn’t say much on the way home … do you think you’ll see him again?” Vicky took a bite of Chex and flicked through news articles.

“Actually … yes, I think we will.”

“Wonders never cease.”

“You told me to say yes instead of no, and I did. He wants us to spend time together and I agreed.”

Vicky grinned. “Oh, my little girl’s growing up.” She clapped her hands, her eyes shining. “I’m so proud.”

“Okay, okay,” Molly grunted. “No need to be so dramatic – it’s not a big deal.”

Vicky laughed. “I think it is a big deal. He’s the first guy you’ve given half a chance to in two years. Maybe you really are ready to move on.”

“I told you I was.” Her nostrils flared and she crossed her arms. Why did Vicky never seem to believe her? Well, her friend might be right not to, since she and Tim weren’t really seeing each other, but she didn’t know that. And she wouldn’t either, not if Molly could keep it from her. As far as Vicky would know, Molly and Tim were the real deal. Hopefully now she could convince her friend to let her be.

That she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Tim since she saw him at the bowling alley was just the push she needed to go along with his plan. Or was it her plan? She frowned, trying to remember who’d come up with it in the first place.

Vicky’s eyes widened and she coughed hard, spraying Chex and milk across the table.

Molly grimaced. “Ewwww – Vicky, that is disgusting. Are you okay?”

Vicky’s gaze met hers and she reached for a napkin to wipe her mouth. “I’m sorry. I just … have you seen the Chron yet today?”

Molly’s eyes narrowed. “No. Why?”

Vicky slid her iPad across the table, being careful to avoid the trail of milk.

Molly took it and scanned the screen. The browser was open to the society page and there was a large picture of her with Tim at the top of the screen. Her mouth dropped open and she tapped the photo to enlarge it. It had been taken the previous evening at the bowling alley. They looked as though they were snuggling. Her head was thrown back, her mouth wide open in laughter, and he had a grin on his face, his cheeks dimpled. The caption below the image read: Tim Holden and Molly Beluga, out on the town together at the Black and Blue Bowling Alley, North Druid Hills.

She looked up at Vicky, who’d fetched a dish towel and was mopping up the mess she’d made. She stopped what she was doing to squeeze Molly’s shoulder and half-smile. “It’s not so bad.”

Molly shook her head. “No, not so bad. Though of course they scooped us again.” She chuckled. “And now there’s no chance Momma and Daddy don’t know about us.” She’d wanted to break the news to them herself, and had been running over possible scenarios in her head all morning, dismissing them one by one when she realized just how badly they’d react.

“Us? There’s an ‘us’ now?”

Molly shrugged and her face warmed. “It’s complicated …” On the counter, her cell phone rang, vibrating in a circle on the hard surface. Her heart fell as she hurried to swipe the screen. “Good morning, Momma.”

“Good morning, darling!” Her mother’s voice was high-pitched, the way it always got when she was trying to mask her emotions.

“How are you?” Molly carried her bowl to the sink and rinsed it, the phone between her ear and shoulder. She knew what was coming.

“I’m fine, hon. I want to talk to you about the photo of you in the Chronicle.”

“Oh?”

“You know what I’m talking about – don’t play it cool. You’re dating Tim Holden?”

“Well … yes, I am.”

“Are you trying to kill your father?”

Molly made a face at Vicky who hid her laughter behind a hand. “Yes, Momma, I’m trying to kill Daddy. What do you think? We went bowling – nothing to get worked up over. I’m sorry our photo landed in the paper. I didn’t even see a photographer at the alley …”

“Well, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Come on, Momma, it’s not so bad, is it?”

“Not so bad? You haven’t had a date in two years, and all of a sudden you’re being photographed around town with the one man who could destroy your father’s business and everything he’s built, not to mention your grandfather before him.”

“I think you’re being a little melodramatic, Momma. He’s not going to destroy anything – he doesn’t even work at the Chronicle. He’s a fireman, did you know that? He’s not interested in the newspaper business.”

“That’s what he’s telling you, and you’re falling for his story hook, line and sinker! Which, by the way, is not at all like you, Molly.”

Molly sighed and covered her eyes. “Mom, trust me on this, Tim has no intention of undermining the Times or causing any of us trouble. He’s a nice guy. You should get to know him before you freak out.”

“Really – get to know him? Is this getting serious, Molly?”

Molly sighed. It was now or never – if she dove in and began the ruse, she’d be spending a lot more time with Tim Holden. Her family could end a decades-old feud, answering a prayer she’d been praying for years. Not to mention proving Vicky wrong about her impending spinsterhood. Those were all good things, and in that moment she couldn’t think of any reason why not. “Yes, we are getting serious. I really care about Tim, Momma. And I’d like you and Daddy to care about him as well.”

Molly’s car hummed, her hair flapping wildly in the wind. She rolled up the window and was swaddled in a welcome silence, then frowned as she swerved around an SUV that had braked suddenly. She loved driving, but the heavy Atlanta traffic made the journey from her apartment to the office longer and more frustrating than it really should be most days. Still, it was better than having to creep along the five miles of road inch by inch for forty-five minutes, which is what happened whenever it rained.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she crossed the intersection and entered the Times building’s underground parking garage. All morning long she’d thought of nothing but Tim Holden. As usual, she’d gone for a run and tried to focus on the beauty of the park and the way Daisy darted after her ball, her golden coat flopping around. But then Tim, pushing his dark hair back from his face, flashed before her eyes and made her cheeks burn and her stomach flip.

Over breakfast when she read the news, there was that photo of the two of them together — and again Tim dominated her thoughts: the way he smiled, the dimples in his cheeks, his strong arms bulging beneath the tight sleeves of his simple T-shirt. She shook her head – he’d invaded her thoughts and she didn’t seem to be able to do anything about it. She had to get her mind straight – she couldn’t afford to fall for a guy like him.

And anyway, they had a plan. She should focus on the plan. For years she’d worried over her family’s obsession with the Holdens and the grudge they’d held for decades, passing it on to a third generation. If she didn’t do something to stop it now, she’d probably be expected to teach her own children to hate the Chronicle owners as well, and she had no intention of that. Now that she knew how much it might mean to Granddad if she helped heal the rift, she wanted to do that for him. He’d done so much for her.

A pretend relationship with Tim could be just the catalyst they’d need to reconcile with the Holdens. It wasn’t the best plan – now that she’d had a bit more time to mull it over, she realized there were myriad things that could go wrong. But it was the plan they had and it was already in motion, thanks to a nosy photographer from his family’s newspaper, so it would just have to do.

She stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the eighth floor. The ride up to her office gave her mind another opportunity to wander, this time to an image of Tim in his fireman’s uniform. He reached for her and, instead of throwing her over his shoulder this time, kissed her passionately. Her cheeks burned and she ran her fingertips across her lips, grateful that no one else was in the elevator.

When the doors opened with a swish, she stepped out, certain that her face must be flushed. She hurried to her cubicle, anxious to find distraction in her work. The workspaces ran the length of the floor, each desk only hidden from the ones beside it by thin gray fabric walls. There was no escaping the noise of telephones, voices, heels tapping across the polished concrete floors. Still, she loved it, loved being in the middle of things, the buzz of activity and the hum of conversation.

Amanda thought it ridiculous that she insisted on sitting with the rest of the team – she was a Beluga, after all. But Molly had tried working in a private office, and spent most of the day peering through the glass wall wondering what everyone else was up to and what she was missing out on. It was too quiet. The next day she’d moved back to her cubie, leaving the private office empty.

She slid her handbag under her desk, slumped into the swivel chair and turned on her laptop, then rested her elbows on the desk to wait for it to boot up.

“Staff meeting in five minutes,” chirped Vicky over the partition.

“Okay,” replied Molly. She logged on, then stood and stretched her arms over her head. It felt good to be back in the office, ready to start on something new. Journalism was like that –always something new to discover. Every day was an adventure waiting to happen, and just thinking about it brought a smile to her face.

With a blank notebook and pen in her hand, she walked to the break room. The coffee pot was almost empty, just dark dregs in the bottom. She eyed it, twisting her mouth – did she need coffee that badly?

She decided she did, and grabbed a chipped mug that read World’s Greatest Journalist from the overhead cabinet. The moniker made her grin and she remembered the day she’d given it to Vicky. It was an apology for a stupid fight they’d had. She couldn’t even recall what it was about, but every time she saw the mug she remembered how they’d made up by eating cookie dough and dancing around the living room to Taylor Swift, and it warmed her heart.

As she walked to the staff meeting, she sipped her coffee, grimaced, sipped again.

Vicky fell into step beside her. “You’re late,” whispered Molly with a half-smile.

“So are you.”

“Yeah, but everyone expects me to be late. You’re usually such a goody-goody.”

Vicky’s eyes rolled. “Whatever. You don’t know me as well as you think you do. Underneath this sweater set, I’m full of rebellion and misunderstood angst.”

Molly stifled her laughter as they walked into the boardroom. The entire team sat around the table, some having pulled chairs from other offices and squeezed around the edges of the room where there was space. As usual, Molly had missed out on a seat and stood with Vicky by the door.

Amanda had already begun the meeting and shot her a heated look beneath lowered eyebrows. “So to sum up what we’ve already covered for those just joining us – circulation is down again this quarter. It’s time to spitball some ideas. We’ll be having our regularly scheduled innovation and creativity seminar this afternoon …”

Molly interrupted her with a cough. “Um … can I just ask something?” She put her hand in the air after the fact.

Amanda took a slow breath, then smiled. “Yes, of course. What is it, Molly?”

“I’m just wondering how well the scheduled innovation and creativity sessions are doing?”

There was soft laughter from somewhere in the room and Molly ignored it, trying hard not to squirm or smile. She’d opposed the meetings when they’d first been suggested, but had been outvoted. When she’d asked the question, how could anyone expect to be innovative and creative on a scheduled timetable?, Amanda and the rest of the editors had exchanged a frustrated glance – again. She spoke up more often than anyone else in staff meetings, because she saw things differently from management and, being a Beluga, wasn’t afraid to say so.

They never did answer her question, though it had seemed reasonable to her. Innovation and creativity came from passion, didn’t they? And how could passion meet a schedule? No one had listened to her, and from what Molly could tell, nothing innovative or creative had ever resulted from the meetings, unless one counted the use of the corporate credit card to buy coffee, muffins and fruit for those who attended. Molly thought her sister was going about it the wrong way. But then again, creativity had never been Amanda’s strong suit.

Neither was admitting she was wrong. “They’re going well,” she insisted. “We’re off to something of a slow start, but that’s to be expected. I think as we all learn to wrap our heads around the idea of being innovative and creative in our workplace, we’ll see some real progress.”

Molly nodded and chewed the end of her pen. “Sorry I won’t be able to be there this time. Could I offer my suggestion now, instead?”

She could sense her sister’s frustration growing. Ever the professional, the evidence of it only flashed across Amanda’s face for a moment before she gestured for Molly to go on.

“As everyone knows, the Chronicle has been focusing more and more on their digital edition and less on print. Every time they’ve scooped us lately, it’s been on their website – they’re operating on a twenty-four hour news cycle, so they don’t have to wait. Our digital edition is lacking in resources, style and … well, everything, really. I suggest that we put more resources into GTOnline, and focus our print edition on more in-depth pieces.”

There were a few nods around the room and murmurs of agreement. But most watched Amanda for a response before they committed to a view.

Amanda cocked her head. “Thank you, Molly. That’s a good idea, and I’ll make sure we include it in this afternoon’s session.”

Molly could see she was about to move on and jumped back in. “Amanda, sorry – just wondering if you really think it’s a good idea, since I have suggested it a few times before …”

Amanda sighed. “Sorry Molly, but I don’t think the CEO will go for it. We’re a newspaper. It’s what we’re known for – in-depth features and breaking news every morning. It’s what our readers buy the paper for. And when it all boils down, that’s what we need – people to buy our paper. We can’t give away our best stories online – it cannibalizes the print version and eats into our profits. We tried soliciting advertisers, but they didn’t seem to want to commit the money to GTOnline that they do for the print version.”

“But it’s the way every single media outlet is moving. We’re going to be left behind – we need more digital focus, not less. We could even have reporters vlog their research for the stories as an added bonus for subscribers – kind of like a behind-the-scenes look at the news. We can’t keep living in the past!” Molly stopped, her nostrils flaring.

Amanda smiled icily. “Perhaps we could have a private conversation about this later, Molly? Okay, I want to talk about vacation leave forms …”

Molly shook her head. It was always the same. She couldn’t understand why Amanda didn’t see what was happening, even as major papers around the country dropped like flies. The Times wouldn’t last much longer if it didn’t embrace the new way of working. She knew the opposition came from her father – he hated change. He loved the paper, wanted to see its legacy continue into the future, and couldn’t abide the idea of the print edition shrinking. But it was doing so regardless of his disapproval.

After the meeting, Molly stayed behind. Her sister, as editor-in-chief, always had a crowd milling around her afterward, vying for her attention.

Amanda waited until the throng had dispersed, then scowled. “Thanks for hijacking my meeting, Mol.”

“Sorry, sis, I didn’t mean to. But I’m serious …”

Amanda chuckled. “That’s an understatement.”

“So will you at least think about my idea?”

“Why? You know Dad won’t go for it.”

“You can convince him. I believe in you.”

Amanda piled up her papers and held them against her chest. “So what’s the deal with you and Tim Holden? I saw you two looking very cozy in the Chron …”

“We’re … seeing each other.”

Amanda’s eyes widened. “Momma said you were, but I didn’t believe her. I was sure she’d misinterpreted what you said. I see you every day and you’ve never mentioned him. Not to mention who he is – who his family is. How could you do that? You know what they’re like.”

“Actually, I don’t, not really. The feud is Granddad’s and Dad’s, not mine, and it’s stupid. I don’t think any of us even knows what it’s about anymore. It’s time we all put it behind us …”

“We know what it’s about. They steal stories from us, scoop our hard work, print complete untruths. They’re diabolical – nothing’s off limits for them.”

Molly took a quick breath. “And they feel the same about us.”

“How can you say that? You know that’s not true.”

Molly shrugged. “I know it’s not true about us, but they say it is. Besides, Tim doesn’t even work for the paper – he works for the fire department. It’s time to forgive the Holdens and put that old grudge behind us, don’t you think?”

“You’re playing with fire.” Amanda shook her head and walked away.

Molly’s heart pounded. Was Amanda right – would she regret getting involved with Tim? His face flashed before her mind’s eye and she smiled to herself. He wasn’t her usual type, to be sure. She guessed he’d probably never had his heart broken before – he’d be the one to do the breaking. Still, she had it under control. No one would get hurt, least of all her, and while they were working on detente between the families, she’d get to spend more time with him as a friend. Everyone needed more friends.

Anyway, it was worth the risk, if only to prove to Vicky (and herself) that she hadn’t shut herself off to the possibility of more in life and in love. And for Granddad – it was worth taking the risk for him.

Vicky hurried over, her eyes wide. “We’ve got a story.”

Molly went to her desk and set her things down, Vicky hovering by her side. “What is it?”

“Just a few streets over – there’s a house fire.”

“Okay, let’s go!”