Bayside's Most Unexpected Bride. Kerri Carpenter

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       Chapter Three

      Happy Tgiving! Hope all my gossip birdies are enjoying their family time. I know at least one person who will be eating her pumpkin pie alone. Poor little Riley Hudson has no one to watch the Macy’s parade with since her parents swapped turkey day for a tropical cruise this year!

      Sawyer scrolled through the Bayside Blogger’s latest article. His finger hovered over the screen when he read the last part of the column.

      He sighed. Riley didn’t usually post things like that, especially about herself. After all, it wasn’t as though she was alone. The Wallaces were hosting Thanksgiving this year and had invited her, along with half the town. Mr. and Mrs. Dumont would be there, as well as Cam, Elle, Jasper, Carissa, Elle’s dad, Carissa’s aunt and more. Riley was as much a part of his family as he was.

      He reread the tweet one more time and considered shooting her a quick text of encouragement. But she’d been acting weird all week, avoiding eye contact with him and even working from home one day.

      He could pretend to be oblivious, but he knew exactly why she was acting odd. That dance at Elle and Cam’s engagement party. Something had shifted in their relationship and he would be outright lying if he didn’t fess up to being shaken by it, as well.

      He’d had no business dancing with her in that way. They’d been friends for far too long for one dance to feel like that.

      Sawyer pulled his car up to his parents’ house, put it in Park, but made no move to get out just yet.

      Despite the three-day workweek, he’d been busy. He’d met with Dan Melwood and he was no closer to giving him a decision on his proposal than he had been at the party last Saturday. He’d asked for time to consider all options.

      Dan was offering full financial assistance as the main investor. If Sawyer agreed, he wouldn’t have to lay anyone off and he’d save his family’s business. It also provided him with some wiggle room so he could play around with a couple ideas of branching out. Even with financial help now, at some point, he would be right back in the same position.

      If he looked at the situation from that side, he’d be a fool not to accept what Dan was offering. But there was another side.

      Riley.

      Or the Bayside Blogger, he amended quickly. Dan wanted to know the identity of the Bayside Blogger. He claimed that as an investor, he was owed that right.

      After Sawyer researched Riley’s old columns, he’d figured out why the man was upset. Apparently, last summer, Dan had returned to Bayside for a month or so. Riley had insinuated that Dan had carried on an affair with a local woman. She hadn’t named the woman. She hadn’t even said the word “affair.” But it was clearly implied what Dan had been up to.

      Sawyer also learned that Dan and his wife separated after the summer. Coincidence? Probably not.

      But what Dan was proposing was wrong, both morally and ethically. Sawyer wanted to save the paper, but was he ready to stoop to this level to get it done?

      Sawyer pushed a hand through his hair. The only restriction Sawyer ever put on Riley in her position as the Bugle’s gossip columnist was that she be absolutely positive about the accuracy of anything she committed to print, and she’d never failed him. Not once. If she said Dan was carrying on an affair, he was.

      He couldn’t out her, though. She would be beyond humiliated. Sure, Dan was only one person. But he could easily share Riley’s alter ego with another person. And that person could tell someone else. And so on. That was exactly why neither he nor Riley ever talked about the blogger. He hadn’t even told his parents.

      Speaking of his parents, maybe he should vet this whole situation with them. Since the newspaper didn’t have a board, it would be nice to have someone to talk to about this. Although, that would mean revealing the financial trouble the paper was in. His dad would launch into a lecture about how he shouldn’t be publishing every day of the week. A fact that Sawyer was proud of. He wanted to make his mark on the Bugle, too.

      A rap on the car window scared the crap out of him. He turned to see his father standing next to the car with a questioning look on his face. Sawyer grabbed the bottle of wine and flowers he’d picked up for his mother and got out of the car.

      “Everything okay, son?” his dad asked.

      Henry Wallace had the same mischievous smile Sawyer was constantly told that he possessed. They were the same height and same build, with wide shoulders and long legs. They also shared a love of mystery books, seafood and fishing.

      “I’m fine.” He embraced his dad. “Happy Thanksgiving, Dad.”

      “Happy Thanksgiving. Come in.” They walked down the path that, in the warmer months, was lined with flowers. Twin pots of mums flanked the door of the colonial two-story house that sat right off the bay.

      “How’s the Bugle?”

      “Everything’s great.” It was a standard answer he gave his dad, but he felt guilty, nonetheless. At some point, he needed to tell his father the true picture of what was happening. But once he did that, everything would be more real.

      Henry made to open the door, then suddenly covered the handle with his hand and gave his son a long once-over. “You know, you can always talk to me. About anything.”

      Sawyer felt like he was back in high school being questioned about making out with his girlfriend or drinking after the big game. “I know.”

      “Because I do have some experience in the newspaper biz.”

      He certainly did. Sawyer had always looked up to his father. Idolized him, really. And not only because of his role at the Bugle. People in the community respected him, valued his opinion. He was a family man. Loyal to the very end.

      Everything Sawyer wished he could be.

      “I’ve heard that somewhere,” Sawyer said as they finally entered the house. Immediately, they were assaulted with the aromas of Thanksgiving. The smell of sage and roasting turkey wafted out to greet him, as did all of the spices of pumpkin pie, yams and his mother’s famous green bean casserole.

      “But what I want to talk about is your retirement. Heard your golf game is actually regressing.”

      Henry stopped walking and wagged a finger in his face. “You’ve been talking to your mother. Never listen to her.”

      “I heard that,” Patty Wallace called from the kitchen.

      Sawyer and his dad exchanged a look before entering the room. As soon as they did, a flurry of activity greeted them in the way of hugs, handshakes and holiday greetings. Someone thrust a mug of spiked cider into his СКАЧАТЬ