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“If you need money—”
“I’m good,” I reply quickly, then soften my tone. “Thank you. But I’m good.”
Tom’s lips quirk. “That Matthews pride is still a force to be reckoned with, I see.”
I acknowledge his observation with a small smile.
“I want you to know you’ll always have a place here. Full-time position is yours once you graduate, if you’d like. Course, I’d imagine you may end up someplace else once you and the Winters boy make things official. Earl seemed to think it was just a matter of time.”
“Official?” I echo. “We’re just dating.”
Tom grins. “I follow Clarkson baseball closely. Caleb Winters risked being benched his senior year to stick around town. You’ve got a good man there, young lady.”
“Um, thanks.”
I’m not sure what else to say.
That boy doesn’t love a thing in this world anywhere near as much as he loves you, Lennie.I can recall Gramps’s voice perfectly. Did Caleb risk his baseball career to remain in Landry, or is Tom exaggerating?
Tom raps the desk twice, then stands. “If you need anything—anything at all—you let me know, okay?”
“I will,” I promise.
I may be stubborn and proud, but if I need money, I’ll take it from Tom. With him, it would merely be a loan. With Caleb, it’s complicated. Even considering—because of—the implication Tom just made.
Tom hears the honesty in my voice. “Good. Now, it’s off to the links for me. Here’s hoping the grandson can manage to hold on to his club this time.” He winks at me, then heads out the door.
Alex returns seconds later to walk me through my assignments and schedule for the summer. He doesn’t ask what Tom and I discussed, but sends me a series of curious looks that make it clear he’d like to. I pretend not to notice as I scribble notes on research topics and deadlines.
“Uh, one last thing.” Alex’s voice has shifted from commanding to uncomfortable, and it makes me look up. “I’ve—I’ve heard you’re in a relationship with Caleb Winters?”
“Um, yes,” I reply, startled.
Alex is not the sort of supervisor you confide in about bad dates in the break room. He makes it clear to every member of the staff that if it’s unrelated to work, he doesn’t want to hear about it. A mindset I appreciate, and one I did not expect him to break out of.
“There’s some interest from the sports staff about doing a feature on him.” Some scorn follows the words.
Alex is clearly not a baseball fan.
Suddenly I’m back in high school, staring Andrew down in the glorified closet where we had our paper meetings. The only difference now is that I know I hold some sway over Caleb’s choices. That if I ask him to do this, he will.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“They’re wondering if you think he’d be…amenable,” Alex replies, looking very much like he’d love for a member of the sports staff to be talking to me about this instead. I’m surprised he even agreed to mention it.
“That seems like a question for him,” I respond.
Alex nods. “Understood. That’s all, Lennon. Thank you.”
I nod. Based on his expression, I actually might have elevated his opinion of me with my response.
Just another unexpected part of today.
* * *
I spend the next seven hours doing research for the politics editor, Alice. The primary this fall is for Landry’s seat in the state legislature, one previously occupied by a familiar name: Richard Winters. Caleb’s grandfather. He was already representing Kentucky at the national level by the time I was born. It’s hard to picture the distinguished looking, stern man I’d occasionally see in town ever concerning himself with any of the issues listed on the current candidates’ websites.
Everyone has to start somewhere, I guess.
