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Chapter 1
Today was the day. Chantelle’s boss and editor wanted to meet with her in the next five minutes. Was she fired? No way. She was one of the best reporters at The Wedding Report. Was Brenda Wilcox going to tell her she had more freedom with her stories?
Chantelle didn’t mind profiling weddings. She loved getting to know the brides and grooms, but she could write on deeper issues. What if the magazine did a line of relationship advice?
Or had readers write in with their questions? Not much growth to look forward to at a wedding magazine, but at least Chantelle had a job. Running her own newspaper or magazine was far-fetched. Soon.
She checked the time on her phone. Better to be early than late. Chantelle’s stomach rolled. She peeped through the glass and knocked on Brenda’s door.
“Come in,” Brenda said.
Chantelle shut the door behind her. Her heeled shoes muffled against the carpet, and she sat in the cushioned chair in front of Brenda’s cherry wooden desk.
Her boss tapped on her tablet. “We have a new story and I want you to write it.”
Chantelle’s lips quirked into a smile. Thank goodness. Another opportunity to prove her skills. “Great. Thank you. Who is it this time?”
Brenda turned her tablet to face her. “Looks like Lance Taylor has given up bachelorhood. He’s marrying Andrea Williams.”
Chantelle blinked. Seeing Lance on the screen made her swallow. Ten years. They hadn’t spoken. Not since that fateful night. She sighed. Why did her ex have to be the groom? Chantelle scooted to the edge of her seat. Her lips parted.
“You want me to write the story?” Was this a joke? She didn’t dare to turn around in case there was a camera.
Brenda’s forehead furrowed. “I thought you’d be excited, Chantelle. You’ve proven yourself here. This will expand your profile as a writer. The Wedding Report shares tips for brides to be, but this story will expand our audience even more. We’ve profiled weddings before, but we know Lance Taylor for being single and successful. It’s gold. You’re lucky that you grew up in this town.”
“But?”
Brenda raised an eyebrow.
Chantelle cleared her throat. “Yes, I grew up there, but this story, I think—”
“You’re one of my best. If you want to pass on it, then fine, but I think it is the break you’ve been waiting for.” Brenda sat back in her seat.
Chantelle rubbed at her neck. Her career had been her focus for the past few years. She’d work too hard to let personal feelings get in the way. Not today. She could do it. Enough time had passed. Her hand then traveled to her stomach. “I’ll do it.”
“Good, because it’s in one month.”
Her eyes widened. “That soon.”
Brenda nodded. “It took us a while, but they finally agreed to the story. Lance’s fiancé is overseas. I’m sure you’re familiar with Andrea’s career as a model and according to the press, they don’t want a long engagement. Didn’t you read the article in People?”
Chantelle avoided the article. Why would she want to read about her ex? Some women stalked their exes, but she wouldn’t. It was over. “I think I missed that story.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She tapped her fingers on her tablet. “You’ll be spending most of your time with the groom and his family. His fiancé…” Brenda then handed her tablet to Chantelle. “Andrea Williams is an only child, twenty-nine, and in Greece.”
Chantelle stared at the screen. This was happening. Her knee bobbed up and down.
“Chantelle? Are you alright?” Brenda asked.
“I’m great.” She handed her boss back her tablet.
Brenda opened her laptop. “Now remember, you have one month to finish the article. Keep me up to date.” Her boss tilted her head to the side, her full lashes framing her sky-blue eyes. “Now we’re not a gossip column, but if you think we need to know something, don’t hold back.”
“Expose them?”
Her boss dismissed her comment with a wave. “Not expose. The public needs to know if there’s anything suspicious. You grew up there, so Delta Heights has the small town reputation of being family friendly and a tight-knit community. Just keep your eyes open.”
“I’ll do my best.” Chantelle stood. Exiting her boss’ office, she returned to her cubicle. Soft-siding dividing walls, and a nameplate stood fastened on her wall. Sitting in her roller desk chair, she bit her bottom lip.
“Okay, I have tuna on rye bread,” a melodious voice said.
Chantelle didn’t respond as her friend, Cameron, placed a takeout bag on her desk.
“What happened? You didn’t get fired?” her friend asked.
“No, but I’m wondering if that’s not a better option.” Chantelle opened the bag and grabbed her sandwich.
“So... what?”
“I’m profiling the Taylor wedding.”
“No way!” Cameron grinned. “Lance Taylor? He is… well… he’s… gorgeous.” Her friend paused. “Wait a minute? You grew up in Delta Heights.”
Chantelle nodded. She bit into her sandwich and chewed despite her dry mouth. She forced herself to swallow.
Cameron’s mouth opened. “You knew Lance, didn’t you? Delta Heights is not that big of a town.”
“I knew him alright.” Chantelle didn’t mind sharing her past with her frien
d, but she didn’t go into details about her history with Lance.
Cameron clapped her hands. “This could be it, Chantelle! You got the big story.”
Chantelle forced a smile. Her mind repeated writing the story as a good idea. Why did she have a hard time believing it?
“How about we go out tonight? Have some fun,” Cameron said.
“I’d rather go home.”
Cameron shook her head. “I disagree. I can tell you need to get out.”
Chantelle stared at her friend. “Where?”
