Caught Redhanded Read Online Free PDF Page B

that,” I admitted. He was certainly high on my list of People I Never Expect To Hear From.
    “Congratulations on winning that Keystone Press Award. We taught you well, I’d say.”
    “I’d say,” I agreed.
    There was a little silence while I tried to imagine why Ron Henrey was contacting me. Certainly he wasn’t calling to interview a hometown girl made good. That would be an assignment given to a features reporter, the Chronicle ’s equivalent of someone like me or Edie. Besides I hadn’t made good enough to be worth an article.
    “I bet you’re wondering why I’m calling,” he said.
    I made a little agreeing noise, which proved to be all the encouragement he needed.
    “We’d like you to come back to the Chronicle, Merry. We’d like you to write two or three features a week and have your own column.”
    Then he named a salary that made me blink in astonishment. I wouldn’t exactly be rich, but from my present perspective, I’d be close. The cynic in me, rarely used, kept looking for the catch, but I couldn’t see one. Since I’m not a very practiced cynic, it’s often hard for me to find the fly trapped in the ointment. However, the rose-colored glasses I wear with practiced ease illuminated a wonderful vista.
    My own column! Real money!
    I’d been asking Mac for a column for the past several months. He only looked at me and, cynic extraordinaire that he was, said, “In about ten years, Merry. When you finally grow up.”
    I glanced at Mac, sitting at his editor’s desk by the great glass window that looked down from his second-floor perch onto Main Street. He was typing away on his PC, and I felt like a traitor to The News with Mr. Henrey trying to lure me away.
    Suddenly Mac looked at me. “Hey, Kramer, when you’re finished, I need to see you.”
    As I waved acknowledgement, I tried to imagine Mr. Henrey yelling across the Chronicle newsroom at me. Never happen. First off, the room was too big. Secondly Mr. Henrey, for all his booming phone voice, was a model of propriety. He would either IM me or give me a discreet bring on my desk phone.
    “What do you think?” Mr. Henrey was still speaking, booming as ever. “Interested?”
    I realized I was smiling. I also realized Jolene was watching me smile and would demand to know why as soon as I hung up. No way was I telling her. I might as well stand on my desk and emote like Mr. Henrey because everyone would know before nightfall.
    “May I think about this?” I asked. “You’ve taken me by surprise.”
    “You have a week,” Mr. Henrey yelled genially.
    Long enough to develop an acid stomach as I debated the pros and cons, but not long enough to get an ulcer. “Sounds fine.”
    I hung up, still not believing the offer. Jolene, dressed in a yellow narrow-strapped cami top and a denim miniskirt in spite of the scraped knees, pounced.
    “What? Why were you smiling? And don’t try and tell me it was Curt whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He doesn’t yell in the phone.”
    Curt! I blinked in disbelief. I’d been so caught up in the unbelievably good offer and so busy being impressed with myself that I hadn’t even thought of my fiancé. Granted I’d moved to Amhearst to learn to be independent, to stand on my own two feet, but a girl should at least wonder what the man she plans to marry in less than two weeks would think about moving.
    Probably not much. He was as much Amhearst as Jolene and Mac.
    There was nothing for it. I’d have to call Mr. Henrey back and decline his offer.
    Maybe not, kid, the perverse part of me said. He’s an artist. Artists can paint anywhere, right?
    Hmm, thought the nicer me, jumping much too quickly to agree. That’s true.
    “Come on,” Jolene prompted. “Give.”
    I tried not to look guilty as I scrambled for something to say that wasn’t a lie but wasn’t exactly the truth, either. I squirmed under her relentless gaze.
    She stood and walked across the narrow aisle that separated our desks. I half