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by Bakka Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Book · Experience · #1612334
My NaNoWriMo project about a small newspaper.
#674985 added November 8, 2009 at 3:49am
Restrictions: None
Chapter 3
         After Harry's departure from Candice's office, she closed the door, locked it and closed the blinds. When Jill passed by, she could hear the sounds of furious typing and an occassional sniffle. She wanted to offer comfort to the woman, but was afraid of the repercussions. Candice was a proud woman and did not like the thought that she needed help.


         Jill's stories were coming along pretty well, but she still hadn't heard from half a dozen of the county volleyball coaches. Plus, she had to be at the gym after lunch to grab some pictures of a check donation by Mitchell Ford, a local car dealership, to the West Hillsbrand volleyball program. While she was there, she also had an interview set up with the athletic director about the new stadium they were planning to build, and another interview with a senior football player who was helping out with Special Olympics this year. On any other day, the pace wouldn't bother her as much. Today, it seemed she was running a marathon on one leg.


         About 11o'clock, Harry came walking up to her.


         “Hey Jill, do you think you can pick up some of Jim's stories for this issue? I have his notes on the big feature he was doing on the Main street project, but we still need to get a preview of Monday's city council meeting written up and a picture of the grip-and-grin up at the senior center.”


         “I don't know, Paul. I got a lot on my plate.”


         “We all got a lot on our plate today,” said Harry, annoyed. “We're all gonna be here late tonight, so get off your ass and do this for me, alright?”


         “Yeah, sure Harry.” Jill took Jim's notes, fighting down her anger, and turned to finish a few more stories before lunch.


         Harry went back to his desk, sorry for his outburst, but glad Jill had accepted the work. He didn't want to think about how screwed they were. Everyone was up to their asses in work and no one felt like doing it. He knew everyone wanted to be at that hospital, waiting with Alice to find out what news they could, but such was the life of a newspaper. Family, friends and personal needs all paled before the almighty press day.


         The ad department wasn't doing too well this week. His part-time ad designer was out of town this weekend, so she had finished up yesterday the ads that were already in. That still left about 20 ads to build from the ground up. Harry was on number five, adjusting the real estate offerings and inserting pictures of new houses. His usually-optimistic attitude was waning. If something didn't break soon, he didn't know if the paper was going to make it to the press today. Such a thing would be unprecedented in the history of the paper, but there was a first time for everything. He wondered idly what the press manager would say if he called to postpone the run. Probably tell him it was okay and make allowances to shuffle their whole schedule for the Herald-Times. Like many small newspapers, the job of printing the paper was outsourced to independent printing presses. The Lattimores had been with the same press for many years and the press staff was just as loyal. They would probably be sending a card and flowers or something once they found out what was going on with Jim. Sighing, Harry turned from the Mac G4 and went to Candice's office.


         “I'm busy!” Snapped Candice in answer to Harry's polite knock.


         “Let me in, Candie-bar,” said Harry. “I'm worried about you.”


         He waited at the door and, just when he was about to give it up for lost, she opened it. Eyeliner and mascara streamed down her face from tears that still glistened on her cheeks. He had obviously interrupted her work on the classifieds, judging by the stack of ad orders in her hand.


         “Go away, I'm fine. We've got work to do.”


         “A couple more minutes isn't gonna hurt anything.” He stepped through the threshold, unruffled by her obvious ire.


         He sat back in the plush wing-backed chair reserved for visitors. She closed the door and, growling, flung the papers down on the desk and plopped into her chair.


         “It's nothing I can't handle, Harry. I don't want my dad's condition to become office gossip.”


         “What in the hell are you talking about?”


         “I saw you talking to Jill,” she said, voice raising. “I told you what was happening and you went and blabbed it to her.”


         “Now just calm down. Jill's just as worried about Jim as we are. You know their history together.”


         Candice snorted. “Yeah, I know she ran out on him and mom and made them worry themselves sick. I don't see why he ever hired her back.”


         “That's not fair, Candie. She lost her grandmother and had some stuff to sort out, that's all. Don't hate her because she did what she did. Who knows, you might have done the same thing in her shoes.”


         “Yeah, whatever. I gotta get back to work. Do me a favor and leave me alone, ok?”


         Harry shuffled from the office. He felt useless, wanted something to do to occupy his mind and hands. He returned to the computer started on ad number six. After a few minutes, he was consumed by the design of the ad, adjusting picas of space and aligning graphics. There were many times in his life where he felt out of control of the situation, but building ads was not one of them.
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