Eva's Deadline

He locked the front door and then led her down the hallway, past the staff’s cubicles and his and Seb’s offices to the back door. His SUV, still covered with dust from his last camping trip, sat in the unpaved parking lot that bordered an alley. He opened the passenger door for Eva, then went around to his side and climbed in. She settled in the seat, her purse on her lap, charging the air with her perfume.

One of Sasha’s stuffed toys, a Pekingese with a faux-jeweled collar, lay on the console. He picked up the toy and tossed it into the backseat.

Noticing Eva’s raised eyebrows, he said, “My daughter’s.”

“You’re married, then.”

He started the engine and shifted into Reverse. “I was. Diane died three years ago. Sasha’s our only child. She’ll be six in a few weeks.” He checked the rearview mirror as he backed out of his parking spot. “Single parenting can be a challenge, but Sasha has a great caretaker. And she’s a good kid.”

The mention of his daughter made him wish he were on his way to pick her up instead of spending time with Eva Sinclair. Gripping the steering wheel, he vowed to do his best, though—for Seb’s sake.

* * *

EVA TOOK A BITE of the halibut she’d ordered at Charlie’s Fish House. Even with little appetite, she had to admit the crisply fried seafood was as good as she remembered. Charlie’s decor hadn’t changed since her high-school days, either—the same plain wooden tables and chairs, the same counter with red vinyl-covered stools, the same chalkboard menu on the wall. Outside, the surf sang as soft waves rolled onto shore, and the warm breeze carried the aromas of salt and seaweed and wet sand.

The one unfamiliar element was the man sitting across from her. Mark Townson. As she’d so tactlessly blurted out earlier, he wasn’t what she’d expected. Over the phone, his deep voice had sounded as though it belonged to someone older than a man in his early thirties. But Mark was definitely young—and fit. His blue knit shirt stretched across a broad chest, the short sleeves showing off impressive muscles. His hair was a dark brown and his eyes a deep sea-blue. He could’ve been a model for one of the outdoor recreation companies that advertised in Seattle’s Best.

He looked up and caught her staring. She scrambled for something to say. “So...you’ve worked for the Herald for about five years now?”

Mark finished chewing a bite of his burger. “Right. Since shortly after you left town. I started out doing ads and column writing, some general stuff. You know how it is on a small newspaper—everyone does a little of everything. Then three years ago, Seb decided he wanted to back off a bit and suggested I take over as editor.” He dipped a French fry into a pool of ketchup. “I take it you like your gig in Seattle?”

“Very much. I interned at Seattle’s Best when I was at the University of Washington. Went to work there shortly after graduation. Started out as copy editor. Now I’m a staff writer but hope to be assistant editor soon. The current assistant is leaving, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be taking her place.”

“Good for you. What you write is different from newspaper writing.”

“Vastly. Our aim is to discover the best Seattle has to offer in restaurants, fashion, housing and entertainment and get it out to our readers. I love what I’m doing.”

“Like I said on the phone, Seb told me how you didn’t want to stay here and work for him.”

“There’s no way I could be writing the kinds of articles here that I’m doing for Seattle’s Best.”

“Big disappointment to him, though.”

She leveled Mark a gaze. “But after I left, he found you, didn’t he?”

Mark frowned. “I guess you could put it that way. Or I found him. I was the one who came looking for a job.”

Eva just stared at him. “Whatever. Maybe we’d better get down to business. You want a big memorial, you said.”

“No question. If you don’t want to be involved, my staff and I can pull it off.”

“No, no, I’ll go along with that. There are other things to take care of, too, though.” She pulled her iPad from her purse and switched it on. “Forest Lawn can do the service and the reception. I’ll call them.” She tapped the keyboard.

“We’ll need an obituary. You’re the logical one to write that. We’ll put it on the website, too.”

She looked up and raised her eyebrows. “The Herald is online?”

“Yep. We’re not as backwoods as you think.”

“Good to know. Okay, how about flowers?”

Mark pulled a notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. “I’ll get April on that. She’s on our staff.”

Details about the memorial carried them through dinner. When they finished, they both had to-do lists. “I do appreciate your help,” she told him, slipping her iPad into her purse.

“You’re welcome.” Mark studied her a moment. “So, you’ll be here about a week?”

She nodded. “I can’t afford to be away any longer than that.”

“No, I suppose not.”

On the drive back to the Herald’s office, Eva gazed out the window at the growing darkness. Here and there, lights blinked on, but unlike in Seattle, they barely penetrated the rapidly approaching night. She’d forgotten how dark Willow Beach became once the sun dipped below the horizon.

When they reached Main Street and the office building, Mark drew up behind her car. Leaving the engine running, he stuck his hand in his jeans pocket and pulled out a leather key ring. “This is for Seb’s house....”

At the sight of the familiar key ring, memories crowded her mind. She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh, no, I couldn’t...not tonight. Besides, I have a reservation at The Gables.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah, the fancy B and B off the highway. Okay, but take the key. You’ll need it eventually.”

He was right. Sooner or later, she’d have to visit the house where she’d lived with her family. So many memories. So much pain.

She took the key ring, slipped it into her purse, then opened the car door.

He snapped his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot. Did you know Seb had a will?”

Eva frowned. “He never discussed a will with me. He and my mother always kept financial matters to themselves. I’m not surprised, though. Why do you ask?”

“His lawyer, Lawrence Prentiss, has a copy. His wife called this afternoon when she heard the news. She said Lawrence is out of town. He should be back in a couple of days.”

Eva shrugged. “I can wait. Considering how we parted, I doubt the will has anything to do with me.”

“Just thought I’d mention it.”

“Well, thanks for dinner and for all you’re doing for my dad,” Eva said as she got out of Mark’s SUV.

“Of course,” Mark said as he waved, then he waited for her to drive away.

As she headed out of town, Eva passed the road leading to the freeway. Her fingers itched to turn onto it. She’d drive all night, if she could, to get away from here and return to Seattle. To her condo, her job, her friends—to all that was familiar, all that mattered.

A heavy blanket of fatigue settled over her. How was she ever going to get through the next couple of weeks? Then she thought of her father, whose weeks, days and years were used up too soon. Oh, Dad, why...why did you have to die?

CHAPTER TWO

AS SOON AS EVA’S CAR was out of sight, Mark took a deep breath and leaned back against the seat. Even though their meeting had not been as stressful as he’d expected, his shoulders ached with tension. Probably an accumulation of the entire day’s events, beginning with the discovery of Seb’s lifeless body slumped over his kitchen table.

He straightened and slapped the steering wheel. Enough brooding. He had a daughter to pick up. He started the car’s engine and headed down the street.

Five blocks later, he reached the Dugans’ yellow frame house, the porch light sending a bright glow into the night. He smiled as he pulled to a stop at the curb. It had been one lucky day when he’d found Eileen Dugan. After Diane’s death, he’d had no one to care for Sasha, and then a friend introduced him to Eileen and her husband, George. Already looking after three grandchildren, Eileen welcomed his Sasha into her brood.