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But today was their editorial meeting, and she was never late for that. Her editor did not take kindly to people showing up late to her meetings.
As she entered her one-bedroom apartment, she tried not to notice how small it felt after Jay’s mansion. Buzzy bounded over to greet her and she bent to pat him. He had been a rescue dog, featured in theSea Shell, and she couldn’t resist rescuing him herself when she saw his photo. He was a mix of breeds, but closely resembled a cockapoo with his shaggy, toffee-colored hair and large, soulful eyes. It had been love at first sight.
“Hello, you,” she said affectionately. “We’re off to work now. I just have to grab a few things.”
Buzzy barked happily. He was excited to go anywhere Erin went.
As she moved about her apartment, she tried again to take pleasure in how compact it was. To Buzzy, she said, “We don’t need an ensuite bathroom, do we now?” And then, “This Formica countertop is practical. The whole place is quick to clean. And who needs a home gym when you have hills to walk and waves to surf?”
Buzzy barked his agreement.
“Okay, my view is of a schoolyard and not as inspiring as the ocean, but I’m happy to have it.” When Erin bought the place, she had been worried that the noise of the children might disturb her on days she worked on her articles at home. But on days their laughter and singing travelled on the breeze, she found it made her happy. She would let herself imagine what it might be like to walk her own child across the road to school and wave good-bye at the school gates. These reveries always made her smile, although she never let herself get carried away. She was about as single as they came and for now, that was just fine.
She clipped on Buzzy’s leash. “I have you, and that’s enough,” she said, rubbing his soft coat.
But for the first time, she wondered if that was still true. She looked around her apartment again and realized it felt a little lonely. What would Jay make of it? If he were here, he’d be sure to take up all the air in the room, like he always did, but strangely, she thought he might fit in. He always did at the Davenport family home.
She had mixed feelings about Jay ending up with her dream house, the one she’d never been able to walk past without imagining herself inside. On a reporter’s pay, there was no way she could afford that house—even if she saved every cent of every paycheck for the rest of her life. But Jay had simply said, “I want it,” and it was his. If she had chosen a different career, she might have been in that position too, but she’d always known her path wasn’t like those of her movie-star brother or her rock-star brother or their agent-to-the-stars friend. She didn’t want to be a top Realtor like Mila or a house builder or an app developer like Nick and Finn. She was a writer. It was all she’d ever wanted and in her small way, she was proud of what she’d accomplished.
Like all Carmel locals, she’d loved theSea Shellsince she was a little girl and had been thrilled to begin working there as an intern when she came back to Carmel with her Englishdegree from Stanford. She’d worked her way up to the role of main reporter and one day she hoped to be the editor of theSea Shell, maybe even own it. That was a dream she could conceivably accomplish with a lot of hard work—to say nothing of determination to make it on her own. She didn’t want to ask any of her rich relatives for help. That was important to her too. Whatever she accomplished, Erin wanted to do it with her own talent and her own money.
As she locked the door behind her, her thoughts turned to the meeting ahead. Pat Sinclair had been a top editor at theChicago Tribuneand then, burned out from stress, she’d arrived in Carmel-by-the-Sea with her wife for a holiday and fallen in love with it. When she’d taken over as editor of theSea Shell, no one could believe it. Erin had given the woman six months before she ran screaming back to the bright lights and buzz of Chicago, but it hadn’t worked out that way. The editorial standard had definitely risen since Pat had taken over, but she’d kept the heart of theSea Shell—the local stories, the Dog of the Week, the weekly advice column—and if anything, the paper was a lot better now than it had been. Erin admired the heck out of her and wanted to learn all she could from Pat while she helmed the paper.
Erin let the midmorning sun warm her cheeks and thought how lucky she was that her job let her bring her dog to work. Buzzy loved theSea Shelloffice. It was situated on a cobbled side street with a walk-in front office where people could place classified ads or drop off press releases for local events.
They walked in and Buzzy sat immediately, his whole hind end wagging as he waited for the treat that Bobby, the receptionist, kept for the dogs who came through the door. As soon as Erin crossed the threshold into the editorial office, a wave of happiness filled her as she took in the familiar sight of the desks cluttered with multiple computer screens and stacksand stacks of paper. To an outsider it might have looked a mess, but everyone who worked there knew exactly where everything was. It was like a family home in that way, with all its quirks that made little sense to anyone but its family members.
Pat came out of her office, already going over the week’s schedule as she walked to the conference room. She ran a hand through her short mop of salt-and-pepper hair. As always, she was chewing nicotine gum, caught as she was in a perpetual struggle to quit smoking that she never quite seemed to nuke. Pat liked to blame her wife, to whom she’d been married for ten years, and who staunchly refused to give up the habit. Next to her was tall, shy Clark, the photographer, with whom Erin had become firm friends over the years; Louis the editorial assistant; and Carrie, the junior reporter and copy editor. Erin took her place at the long table they used for editorial meetings, among other things. She sat next to Pat, who was looking more irritated than usual.
Carrie wanted to pitch a story about a school funding shortfall, but Pat was scowling. “We need something new, something exciting,” she said, interrupting Carrie. “We could have had a scoop on thehugestory of an A-list actor getting married secretly right here in Carmel before flying off toScotland...” She paused and shot Erin a hard look.
Uh-oh.Erin got a sinking feeling in her stomach.
“But sadly, that opportunity passed us by.” She grabbed a pen, holding it like a cigarette, and began to twiddle it between her fingers.
Erin gulped and felt guilty. She admired Pat hugely and knew she was lucky to have such an incredible mentor, but surely she could understand that Erin couldn’t—wouldn’t—betray her family just for the sake of a scoop. Erin had been in a tough position, caught between her job and her duty to her family, but family would always win.
She stayed silent. Pat hated to hear excuses.
“Luckily,” Pat continued, “I’ve managed to get something of a scoop myself.”
At this, Erin perked up. A distraction from her misdemeanor. Perfect.
“I’ve had my ear to the ground and word is that another Hollywood hotshot has just bought one of the most expensive homes in Carmel.” Pat’s mouth twitched in its telltale way when she had a good story. Erin felt her heart sink into her sandals. She knew exactly what Pat was about to ask.
She turned to Erin. “Jay Malone is the latest in a string of Hollywood celebrities to buy a place in Carmel-by-the-Sea. There’s a good story here, Erin, and I want you to find it. What is driving this move? WhoisJay Malone? I want a full profile.”
Erin felt backed into a corner. This was her punishment for not giving theSea Shellthe story of the year by offering up Arch and Tessa’s secret wedding in Carmel before they jetted off to Scotland for the lavish public celebration. Jay wasn’t family, so in Pat’s mind he was fair game. Since he’d been Arch’s agent forever, Pat knew Erin could get access. And who better than a family friend to get to the heart of a story?
She thought that Pat understood deep down that Erin had done what was right, but she couldn’t let it go unchallenged. Interviewing Jay was her punishment. She got that, and the journalist side of her felt that Pat had handled the situation well. She only hoped she’d do as well when her time came to be editor.
But the idea of interviewing Jay made something stick in her throat. She didn’t like to use her family connections in her work, and she was certain that Jay was far too busy making multimillion-dollar deals to spend time being interviewed for the local paper.
She swallowed. “He’s probably very difficult to get hold of and won’t be in Carmel very much—”
But Pat cut her off with an upraised hand before she could come up with any more lame excuses. “It’s your job to convince Jay Malone to spare you some of his precious time.”
Erin persisted, “Perhaps one of our freelancers might have a better chance? Jay is more likely to talk to someone he doesn’t know—he’s professional like that.”