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usually meant big changes. Something she couldn’t fathom happening. “I think we’re doing pretty well.”
    “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I’m merely stating it could do better.”
    A big-city man changing everything…hadn’t she learned not to trust men like him? “So, is this what you wanted to discuss with me? KLUV doing better?”
    “No. Right now, I think it’s appropriate to make an announcement of the sale. I want you to help with that.”
    “You kinda did. At the station.” After they’d found Howard and Robert. She blinked back her tears.
    “I meant publicly.”
    The tears dissipated completely. “As in?”
    “On the air.”
    Her stomach knotted. “Do you think that’s smart? I mean, right now? While Robert’s in the hospital and Howard’s…”
    “I think it’s the perfect time.” He tented his hands over the table. “We don’t want to lose any advertisers or supporters, wondering what will happen to the station if Mr. Ellison is incapacitated in the hospital.”
    “I see.” The knot in her gut tightened.
    He reached across the table and laid his hand over hers. Heat trailed up her arm. She tucked her hand into her lap. A frown marred his handsome face. “Understand I have to look out for the business. Mr. Ellison would do the same.”
    She plastered on a smile, knowing Robert would do no such thing. “I understand.” He was her boss. She didn’t have to agree with him. She just had to do what he said. “When would you like to make the announcement?”
    “I was thinking tonight. Maybe around eight. After the news and weather update.”
    “Fine. I’ll come in a little early.”
    Before he could reply, Rayne stood beside the table. “Gab, I’ve got to take this sandwich by the hospital and get back to work. You ready?”
    “Yeah, I’ll meet you at the truck.” She drew to her feet in one fluid motion. “Thank you for the coffee. I’ll see you at the station whenever you’re ready.” She turned and headed out the door, lifting her hand to wave as she passed the remaining townies on her way to the door.
    Digging into her purse for her keys, her mind argued with her heart. Clark McKay was trouble with a capital T , just like Blake Riggsdale. So why did her heart continue to thump like a Jamaican melody in her chest?
     
    Clark’s attention focused on the intriguing woman until he could no longer see her from the window, then remained there on the off chance she’d return for a last, parting look.
    She didn’t.
    With a sigh, he stood and ambled to the counter.
    “She’s a sweetheart, that Gabby.”
    Clark jerked his gaze from the window to study the white-haired woman watching him from behind the counter.
    “My name’s Minnie,” she said as an introduction, stuffing a handkerchief back into the bodice of her flower-print dress. “That Gabby, she’s something special.”
    “She sure is.” He whispered the words, but it didn’t matter. He spoke more to himself than to the proprietor of the diner.
    He handed his bill to the older lady. She rang him up on the antique register. “You that new owner of the house on Bridges Street, aren’t ya? Beulah’s nephew?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “And I heard tell today that you’d bought KLUV from Robert.”
    Clark bit back a smile. Maybe the announcement wasn’t as necessary as he’d thought. It seemed like small-town gossip got the word out pretty fast with or without his help. Just like Eric had warned. “That’s right,” he said.
    “Such a tragedy,” she replied with a sigh. “Both of the owners getting attacked like that today.”
    “Both?”
    “Robert and Howard.”
    “Howard was an owner of KLUV?” Only Robert’s name had been on the paperwork.
    “Oh, yes.” She gave him his change. “Right up until a few months ago.”
    “What happened then?”
    “Oh, there was quite a to-do.” Minnie spun out her tale with Southern flair. “Right here in this very café. Robert said he wanted to sell the