Page 54 of In a Word, Yes

“Now, keep your hair on. I need you to handle things here today.” He snags his keys off the desk and stuffs them into his front pants pocket.

“H-h-handle things?”

“Yes, handle things, Lucy. Take charge. Run the show.” Sam walks in a circle, looking lost. Then he does it again. He seems surprised to find me still standing there. “Well, can you help me find my phone? I’ve gotta go check on Noleen. Her blood pressure is skyrocketing.”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” This can’t be good, considering she’s still recovering from last week’s surgery.

“Probably need to run her to the ER.” Sam’s lips quiver, something I’ve never witnessed. “I don’t get it, though. She seemed fine this morning. I should never have left.”

“There it is, Sam,” I say, pointing to his bulging shirt pocket.

“There’s what?”

“Your phone. In your pocket. But—”

“Thank you. I’ll try to check in later.”

“But Sam, I don’t—”

His gaze hardens. “Yes you do, yes you can, and yes youwill, Lucy. I’m counting on you. Just get the bloody paper out the door.”

My eyelid spasms like never before. I’m still staring after Sam with my mouth ajar when he turns back.

“And find someone to fix that blasted door!”

***

Ten minutes later, Dot yells out her window at me. “What in the ... Lucy, what in the world are you doing?”

It’s a fair question. Never before has she seen me lie flat on the grass behind the office, still as a corpse, working through my whole deep breathing sequence. And here’s why: This is a first.

I open my eyes. “Oh, just telling my body that everything is going to be fine.” I rise to my feet with a little wobble and finish with an upward arm stretch.

Dot strides toward me like a woman of singular purpose. She cups my cheeks in her hands and brings her face so close to mine I can smell her fruity gum.

“Listen to me, girl,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “You is smart. You is kind. You is important.”

I give her an exaggerated eye roll. “Not funny,” I say, stifling a laugh. I have to hand it to her. She knows my love language is literary references.

“You got this,” she says, marching back inside without a backward glance.

One more intake of breath. Okay. This is as good as it’s going to get.

***

At zero hour minus two, I’ve still got a towering stack of pages to proofread and a new situation I have no option but to handle.

I’m heading down the hall to Brad Vickery’s mole hole to do just that when Dot yanks me into her office. Sitting open on her oversized monitor is the pageone layout, and she’s flipping back and forth between two potential images for the above-the-fold money shot. Both photos are color saturated and stunning.

“Nice!” I say.

“Okay, but help. Peacocks or Friday Night Lights? Peacocks...” She lingers on the image of two glorious luminescent peafowl loitering at the entrance to Sweet Reads, looking for all the world as if they’ve strolled by to order a cup of herbal tea. This summer, it became a thing among tourists to stalk the famous feathered pair and share images on social media—hashtag #FowlWeatherInCharityFalls.

Then she flips to the second image. “Or Friday Night Lights...” This one had to have been taken by a high-flying drone. The hair rises on my arms. Captured here is a jaw-dropping sunset over Charity Falls High’s first home football game of the season. The depth of field is dreamy, from the uniformed players lined up in starting formation in the foreground, to the warm honey and apricot clouds and glowing mountains beyond. This image drips with Americana and small-town pride. It’s the kind of thing that puts theunityin community.

“This one,” I say.

“Friday Night Lights?”