A Stitch in Time by Amelia C Adams

Author:Amelia C Adams
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-12-27T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

“Isaiah, I have a bone to pick with you.”

Isaiah Burns looked up from his desk. “Yes? And what that might be?”

“You knew my grandmother wasn’t getting engaged, and you knew Miriam Brown was home for a visit.”

Isaiah laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, and it was fun watching your confusion. Not much amuses me in this line of work—I have to find my entertainment where I’m able.”

“I’m glad I could add something to liven up your boring day.” Toby shook his head even as he smiled. If he’d been in Isaiah’s place, he likely would have done the same thing. “I’ve brought you something. Two somethings, actually.” He slid his articles across the desk. “I look forward to hearing what you think.”

“Wait. You aren’t leaving, are you? Sit down. Make yourself comfortable.” Isaiah picked up the sheets of paper and began to read.

“You’re going to look those over while I’m still here?” Toby asked.

“Well, yes. Don’t you want to know what I think?”

“Of course, but I thought you’d read them after I left. You know—in private.”

Isaiah raised an eyebrow. “In other words, you’re nervous about seeing my initial reaction, and you want to get out of here.”

“That might be accurate …”

“Sit down, Toby.”

Toby sat.

“If you’re going to be in the newspaper business, you have to get used to this sort of thing. People will be reading your articles out there on the sidewalk, sitting on either side of you on the train, at the next table if you go to a restaurant. You have to stand behind your work, hold your head up high, and be prepared to defend your facts and your witnesses. You can’t afford to be shy.”

“Understood.” Toby leaned back in his chair. “I’m hereby ready for any facial expressions you might have or guffaws you might emit while you read.”

“Good. Because I’ll be honest with you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Despite Toby’s joking that he could take the criticism, it was still difficult to sit there and wait to hear Isaiah’s opinion. He’d never written up an assignment so quickly—in college, he always had a few days or a week to complete each task, but that was a luxury that simply didn’t exist if he was going to write for the newspaper. If something time sensitive was taking place, he might have a matter of just a few minutes to construct his story before he’d need to put it in the hands of the typesetter.

Isaiah didn’t guffaw as he read. He didn’t even twitch a facial muscle. That was almost worse than if he’d grimaced or yawned. It felt like years went by before he finally laid the pages on his desk and looked at Toby.

“How do you think you did?” he asked.

“Well . . .” Toby had never been asked that sort of thing before. He’d always been assigned a grade, and that was that. “I believe I did fairly well, considering these were my first articles. I captured some human interest,

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