“Welcome to the Advocate,” said a guy in a black polo strolling past the office foyer. “Someone will be with you in just a minute.” The man proceeded to disappear down the hall to Caleb’s right.
For some unknown reason, Caleb was nervous. He knew everything about the newspaper business except writing the actual stories. He understood circulation, layout, and had assisted in creating an online presence for two of his father’s papers. The only reason he didn’t work for his father full-time was because that was exactly what his father wanted.
Jackson McGraw expected his son to live under his thumb, follow his orders, and be groomed as his successor. Only Caleb knew that the life his father envisioned would be hell.
Jackson, barely fifty years old, maintained his health meticulously. The man would likely remain at the helm of McGraw Media for another thirty years. If Caleb ever had designs on taking over, he’d have to pry the company from his father’s cold, dead hands. For him, the prize wasn’t worth the price.
Unfortunately, he had yet to find an alternative to his father’s plan, which infuriated the elder McGraw to no end. And was apparently an issue for his wife, as well.
A door near the window was open, and a female voice filled the tiny space, yelling, “Son of a biscuit eater!” The outburst was followed by a loud bang and the words, “Stupid drawer.”
Caleb stepped closer to the window, not sure how to proceed. A glance to his left revealed a long, empty hallway with Hattie nowhere in sight. Not that he even knew if Hattie had intended to be here.
“Hello?” he said through the open window. “Is this the newspaper office?”
“Well, it ain’t NASA,” replied the brunette rubbing her knee. Then she looked up, and her brown eyes went wide. “Hellooo, sailor,” the middle-aged woman drawled. “What have we here?”
Caleb honestly couldn’t tell if the question had been posed to him or not. “Hattie Silvester told me to be here at nine this morning, but she didn’t give me a name for who I’m supposed to meet.”
The office lady’s jaw dropped. “You’re Hattie’s boy?”
“Uh . . .” Caleb hedged. “No. I just met her yesterday. She seemed like a nice lady, but if she’s senile and this is all a joke—”
“Miss Hattie called this morning and said she was sending a nice boy over to see Wally. Honey child,” she added, her voice dropping low as she stepped up to the open doorway, “you are not what I expected.”
And this entire encounter was not what Caleb expected. “Did you say Wally?”
As the woman stared at his shoulders as if sizing up their load-bearing capacity, Caleb guessed her to be in her upper forties, maybe. He’d never been much good at guessing women’s ages. Her dark hair was piled high on her head, but several pieces had come loose to dangle around a pretty face that sported a hefty layer of makeup.
She swiped away a strand that had slipped over her brown eyes and smiled with a mouthful of straight, white teeth. The belted flannel shirt covering her floor-length red dress accentuated an hourglass figure, but the look in her eyes gave him pause. He’d avoided enough man-eaters in Nashville to recognize a leader of the pack when he saw one.
“I’m Piper,” she said, “Piper Griffin.” The hand she extended was turned palm down, as if she expected him to kiss her knuckles. Caleb gave it a quick shake.
“Can you tell this Wally person that I’m here?”
“Of course,” she answered, then mumbled, “God bless Miss Hattie.”
Caleb was used to women having a positive reaction to making his acquaintance, but he’d never felt as much like a side of beef as he did in that moment. Hopefully, whatever Hattie sent him here to do would not require further interactions with Piper Griffin.
Snow opened the store Monday morning with heavy resignation. All she had to do was endure the next few weeks, if it took that long, being friendly enough to make it look as if she were making a real effort, while highlighting all the reasons that she and Caleb should go their separate ways. She would also have to resist a full-out wooing from a man who had the unnerving habit of making her forget all of those reasons.
In fact, this morning, she wasn’t sure she could come up with a list of five. But then Snow didn’t need a list. Vivien McGraw had made sure of that.
After their talk the night before, Snow had worried that Caleb might once again try to eliminate the no sex agreement, but he’d surprised her by not even bringing it up. In truth, she’d been a tiny bit disappointed that he hadn’t at least tried to kiss her again. When they’d been dating, rare was the night that didn’t include a passionate interlude. But then, Snow reminded herself, this was what she wanted. No sex to cloud her judgment.