Finding His Way Home. Barbara Gale

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      Pride is a harsh taskmaster. They all drifted apart, the lines clearly delineated: employer…employee. It suited him fine. Alexis had never been one of his favorite people. But Valetta was something different. The poor child had held a special place in his heart.

      And then that extraordinary phone call from Alexis, late one night. It had been raining heavily, certainly not a night to venture out, except that Valetta apparently had. Yes, the sisters had had another argument, Alexis admitted. Yes, all right, maybe it was a little louder than usual. Unfortunately, the end result was that Valetta had packed a bag, left a short note and climbed out the window while Alexis was sleeping. She had run away.

      She was a runaway.

      Alexis had immediately called in private detectives and soon made it known that her sister was safe. But as to the cause of their fight, she would not be specific. Lincoln figured—of course—there was a story to be had. Valetta had been a typical, melodramatic teenager, so there was always a story, and because of that, he had never listened closely to her complaints. Valetta’s sudden departure was the price he paid for being inattentive.

      Any further news of Valetta Keane was doled out by her sister grudgingly over the years, but he had missed the curly-haired beauty. Now, it seemed, he was being given the opportunity to make amends. “What happened to Vallie when Phyla died?”

      “Oh, a little of this and a little of that,” Alexis said vaguely. “She’s fine, she’s holding her own.”

      Alexis’s sparse information was frustrating, but Lincoln didn’t press the matter. The fact that he had never heard from Valetta was a cut that ran deeply. If he had been blindsided by the notion that the Keane sisters had thought of him as family, hadn’t his heart been in the right place? How had they ignored that? The loss of their affection was a hard-won lesson he took to heart, and who could blame him? If his laughter died the night Valetta left, no one noticed. Now, a decade later, the idea of seeing Valetta was an awakening, a temptation that brought, if not quite a smile to his lips, certainly a faster beat to his heart. But mastering his feelings, Lincoln didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he unfolded his long legs and leaned forward, dangling his long hands between his knees. His five o’clock shadow made him seem even more threatening than his growl. “What happens if I persuade Val to return?”

      Alexis’s lips thinned with anger, but she framed her answer carefully. If Lincoln refused her, she would have nowhere else to turn. “There is no if. I intend to hand the reins of the L.A. Connection over to Valetta. As my sister, she is the logical choice.”

      Jolted, Lincoln jumped to his feet. “That’s a ridiculous scheme, Alexis!”

      The L.A. Connection was too influential for that to happen; he had given it too many years and won for it too many Pulitzers to idly stand by while it was managed—mismanaged—by an amateur. Even if Alexis was sick and probably not thinking straight, he couldn’t help lashing out. Even if the woman sitting across from him had sacrificed as much blood and sweat as he had, he was so angry that his hands shook as he paced the room.

      “I don’t wonder you haven’t called her. The Connection is a huge responsibility. Huge! But to hand it over to some fledgling girl! I am absolutely astonished! You have me at astonished, Alexis!”

      Unused to being rebuffed, Alexis clenched her teeth. For goodness’ sake, didn’t the man understand that she had no choice? Apparently not, judging from his mocking, caustic words.

      “And another thing. Has it never occurred to you that Valetta has her own life?”

      “Oh, that she does,” Alexis said quietly.

      “Well, then, you understand my point. It’s very likely that she won’t take kindly to a disruption, not of this magnitude. She might even be married.” Lincoln held his breath. “Is she?”

      Alexis’s answer was terse and to the point. “She is not.”

      Alexis said no more but it was enough for Linc, although he couldn’t say why. Afraid to let her see the relief in his face, he crossed the room to stare across the city rooftops as he tried to regain his composure. Millions of people walking the streets below read the L.A. Connection every day, shared their coffee with his editorials, read columns written by reporters that he had personally groomed, traded their stock according to what his power brokers wrote. “What the bloody hell can she know about running a newspaper?” he muttered.

      “Perhaps you should ask her. She may want your help.”

      “Such big plans!” he scoffed. “And supposing that Valetta does come home. Supposing she does take over the paper. What if she doesn’t want my help? Have you considered that?”

      “It will be up to you to see that she does. If she does, maybe we can talk about a partnership. What do you think? Would you be interested in a partnership with Valetta Keane?”

      Lincoln’s black brow was an angry furrow that matched the deep lines of his gaunt cheeks. “My, my, Alexis, you seem to have this all figured out very neatly.”

      “It’s not that complicated when you think about it. I don’t have that many options, but I won’t allow the Keane family paper to die for the sake of a young girl’s tantrum. Or perhaps you would prefer I did?” Alexis left off with a shrug, suddenly looking drained as she sank deeper into her leather chair.

      Lincoln watched her implode but he was in no mood to be generous. Too much was at stake. “What about Valetta?” he asked grimly. “You don’t say what she’s done with her life, but I’ll bet the bank you’ve had her watched all these years.”

      Alexis smiled bitterly. “That’s why you’re my managing editor, Lincoln. Nothing escapes you. Well, guess what? Valetta started her own small-town paper about five years ago. She calls it The Spectator. Appropriate, don’t you think? I suppose it’s something in our genetic makeup. Printer’s ink instead of blood, perhaps. Oh, her paper is nothing to speak of, call it a rough draft for the rest of her life, but she’s been getting some very interesting notices lately, statewide. Not unimportant when the state happens to be New York. Still, it’s given her enough practice for my purposes. I’m rather proud of her, actually.”

      “Then why don’t you tell her? Why aren’t you running this errand for yourself, Alexis? Why send me?”

      Because she’s ready for you…. And you’re ready for her.

      But Alexis didn’t say that. Truth was a commodity, language her coin of choice, and she was not known for her generosity. She would say as much as she needed and not one word more. Her eyes fixed, she parried the truth. “To be honest, I’m too weak to travel, but she… she always had a soft spot for you.”

      Lincoln was unimpressed. “Come on, Alexis, she was just a baby last time I saw her, a boy-crazy high- school kid.”

      “Surely she’s grown up in the last ten years. I would hope she’s learned a few things on the way.”

      “About men?”

      “About life, Lincoln.” She sighed, although she would have liked to scream for the fool Lincoln СКАЧАТЬ