Page 167 of Hello, Summer
Conley walked back inside the silent house. Already, she thought, the scent of disuse and decay had begun to settle like a thin layer of dust. Or maybe that was her. She walked around the kitchen and living and dining rooms, letting her fingers trail across the lemon-scented mahogany, the polished silver candlesticks, and the gilt-framed family portraits.
Upstairs, she sat on the bed in her old room, looking out the window at the treetops. She went to the bookcase in the corner of the room and picked out her childhood favorites—Little Women,because, like Jo, she intended to be a writer one day; her favorite Maud Hart Lovelace Betsy-Tacy books, because Betsy wanted to be a writer too; andAnne of Green Gables,because she’d always loved Anne Shirley’s fierceness and ambition.
There was nothing else she needed from this room now, Conley thought. G’mama had told her that the contents of this beloved family home had just been things—things that could easily be replaced. But these books had been what Anne Shirley would call her “boon companions.”
She tucked the books in an old canvas tote bag and walked down the hall to her father’s room again. This time, after switching on the light, she went inside and sat down on a heavy wooden packing crate. Shewaited for the familiar tightness in her chest. But it never came. This was just a room now. She felt lighter. Skelly had been right. He’d been right about a lot of things.
Conley called Roger Sistrunk from the phone on her desk.
“About damn time,” he said as soon as he picked up. “You playing hard to get all of a sudden? We’ve all been trying to reach you. Me, Tia, even Kevin. Calling, texting, emailing, but nothing.”
“Sorry. My phone was destroyed in the, uh, incident yesterday. What’s up?”
“Wanted to make sure you’re really okay,” he said, his tone gruff. “That was a hell of a story you filed last night. Really powerful stuff.”
“Thanks. Not an experience I ever want to repeat.”
“Hey,” he said abruptly. “The thing is, we’ve got an opening on the national desk, and before we post it officially, I thought I’d give you first shot.”
“On the national desk? I’ve only ever worked city-side.”
Michael Torpy spun around on his desk chair. The kid had no shame about eavesdropping.
“We know that, but these stories you’ve been writing in that little one-stoplight town, you’ve shown me you’re more than ready.”
She stared pointedly at Michael until he finally turned back around.
“I’ll have you know Silver Bay has three stoplights. When would you want me to start?” she asked.
“Right away. You can pack up today and be back at your old desk here in Atlanta tomorrow.”
“And the pay?”
“Awww,” Roger protested. “Are you gonna try to jack me up for a raise after all we’ve been through together?”
“As a matter of fact…” Conley started to say. Her gaze traveled past Michael and landed on Grayson’s office. The door was open, and she glimpsed her sister, gesturing dramatically. She was talking to someone. Conley half stood and saw that Rowena Meigs was seated on the chair opposite Grayson, with Tuffy perched in her lap.
From her standing position, she saw that Michael was working on theBeacon’s website, adding photos he’d shot earlier in the day of a beauty pageant at the local nursing home and a Little League baseball game.
“Conley!” Lillian yelled from across the other side of the newsroom. “Damn it, Conley, I got two more calls waiting on you. Get yourself a phone, you hear? I don’t have time to be messing with your personal business.”
“Hawkins?” Sistrunk was still talking. “You there?”
“I’m still here, Roger. But on second thought, never mind.”
“Never mind the raise? Okay, if you’re gonna be a prima donna, maybe I can squeeze another fifty bucks a week out of the budget.”
“Never mind the job, Roger,” she said. “I love you for offering it, and I will always appreciate everything you taught me, but I think, for now, I could do more good someplace else.”
“Damn it! You’re taking a job with the network, aren’t you? I knew it. Listen to me, Hawkins. You’d hate TV…”
She walked over to Lillian’s desk and picked up her messages. “A messenger came by while you were on the phone and left a package for you,” Lillian said.
“Where is it?”
“It’s outside. You been pissing off a lot of people in this town lately. I’m not fixing to get blown up by one of them pipe bombs,” Lillian said.
Conley found a manila envelope leaning against the brick planter box by the front door. It felt too light to be a pipe bomb, so she slit the flap open with her thumbnail and shook the contents out. It was a plastic transponder. There was no note, but she didn’t need one.
