Her stomach flipped. “Thanks,” she said with a swallow. She still wasn’t used to being called that.
He interlaced his fingers with hers and led her to his silver SUV. He’d made reservations at Josephine’s, a quaint log-cabin restaurant on the river.
The hostess had recognized him from the news, and Callie wondered if that’s why they got seated at the nicest table in the place: in the corner, overlooking the water. During dinner, she kept glancing out of the window at the view. Old cypress trees stood erect, illuminated by the nearly full moon hovering in the sky. It looked so peaceful out there. And her view from across the table wasn’t bad, either.
Wynn. She took a sip of her wine, feeling like her life as of late was just a dream. The lottery, and now this attractive man who was actually smart and interesting. She wondered what she must have done in a former life to get this kind of karmic payload.
“So, how was work today?” Wynn’s deep voice brought her back to reality.
She leaned back in her chair. “It was so-so,” she said with a sigh, thinking about the impending layoffs. Jerry was extra grumpy, heavily editing her coverage of the recent school board meeting and writing “BORING!” in red ink across the proof text.
Although it had been fun when her coworkers noticed her new haircut and makeup. “You look… different,” Shane had said when they had crossed paths at the coffee machine. The look on his face seemed like he wanted to use the word “hot,” but he had gone with another description at the last second. Those awkward training videos they had to watch every year on sexual harassment in the workplace must have gotten through to him. Callie chuckled remembering it.
Garrett was only in the office for about five minutes to pick up the digital camera, but he commented on it, too. “Oh hey, someone got a haircut,” he said. She took it as a compliment. For him, it was one.
“I do have a big story coming out tomorrow, though,” she told Wynn, pulling apart a roll from the basket in the middle of the table. The flaky crust was still warm. “We’re doing a big exposé on the new levee that’s being built.”
Wynn looked intrigued. “Sounds interesting. What did you find out?”
She spread the piece of bread with butter. “There were a ton of problems with the construction of it, and now it’s a safety hazard. The city blames the construction agency, the agency blames the city, you know the drill.…” She glanced down, not wanting to give the whole story away just yet. Not that Wynn would run off to his producers tonight and scoop her story about the political corruption link, but it wouldn’t hurt to be safe. “Until it’s properly fixed, there’s a real possibility a flood could do major damage. I’m just happy the news will be out there. Now it’s in the people’s hands to bring it to justice.”
“I see.” Wynn nodded his head and then cocked it to the side for a second. He looked as though he was pondering something. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but…” he began.
Her heart sped up. What was he going to say? Usually when someone prefaced a comment with that phrase, it wasn’t a good sign. She had heard it all before: “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you remind me of my grandmother,” and “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m just not into you like that.” She braced herself.
He continued, “Newspapers are a dying breed. No one reads them anymore.” He sniffed. “If you really wanted people to listen, you’d move over to television.”
Callie was taken aback. She knew the Herald didn’t have as many readers as News 12 had viewers, but the people who did read it were loyal, paying twenty-six dollars a month to have it delivered to their house every morning. And even though they didn’t have a big staff, the ones who were on the masthead were dedicated. Hell, no other news organization in town had any coverage of the levee’s inspection fail because no one else was paying attention.
The silence must have been uncomfortable for Wynn. “I just think someone with your talent should have a bigger audience,” he added, resting his elbows on the table.
Callie stared down at her lap and played with the edge of her cloth napkin. Maybe Wynn was right that her stories would be seen by more people, but the idea of being on camera made her shudder. Just that five-minute press conference with her sisters at the lottery headquarters was difficult. She couldn’t imagine that being a full-time job. “Uh…” She ran her fingers around the rim of her wineglass. “I prefer a more behind-the-scenes approach to reporting.”
The waiter brought their food to the table. She had ordered her favorite comfort food, chicken and dumplings, but she was so focused on her conversation with Wynn, she pushed the plate aside to continue talking.
“I’ve always been a writer. I couldn’t possibly do television.” She didn’t know who she was trying to convince more—her or Wynn.
“You’d be surprised,” he said, using his fork and knife to cut into his steak. “I started out wanting to do print journalism, too, but one of my professors encouraged me to try broadcast. Told me, ‘newspapers are dead.’ I didn’t want to believe it—I loved seeing my name in print in the college paper. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought he was right.” Wynn rested his fork on his plate. “I realized that if I wanted to make an impact with my work, I needed a big audience to hear my stories. I know everyone thinks TV newspeople are just talking heads with pretty faces—” He rolled his eyes. “But I really do believe I’m making a difference.”
Callie’s goal was to make a difference—it did make sense that it was easier to make a difference if more people saw your work. She had never looked at it like that before.
“You’ve got the talent… and the face for TV.” He grinned.
“Oh, stop.” She took a bite of a dumpling.
“No, I’m serious.” He stroked his chiseled jawline. “You’ve got the talent—and with a face like yours, you should be in the front and center.”
He leaned across the table. “Listen, they’re urgently in need of another reporter at the station, and I can tell you that the job is yours if you want it. I already told my producer about you and showed him some of your work, plus the clip of the press conference—I hope that’s okay.”
Callie raised an eyebrow. “Why would the TV station want me? I can’t just walk in and get a reporter’s job. Don’t people train specifically for that?”
Wynn laughed. “You’d be surprised how much of the job uses the skills you already have. You’re a power journalist. Like I said, my producer was practically salivating when I was telling him about you—he was basically begging me to recruit you for this.”
A small involuntary smile formed on her face. It felt good to be wanted. She had never pictured herself doing TV, but then again, she had never imagined she’d win the lottery or date a local celebrity. It was incredible how quickly her life had changed in just the course of a few months, and it was all going so well, too. She wondered if a career switch really was the next thing she needed in her life.