The Newspaper Club by Beth Vrabel

Author:Beth Vrabel [Beth Vrabel and Paula Franco]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Running Press
Published: 2020-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

After our lunches, we looked around for Arlene Austin. Everyone we asked at the diner said they hadn’t seen her yet that day. We’d need more information to track down our source.

Journalists aren’t afraid to talk to people even if they’re powerful, important, or really, really cool. Reporters are brave in their pursuit of their story. The secret is to look confident, even if you aren’t. Fake it until you make it, Nellie. I took a deep breath, hearing my dad speak those words in my head, then held my notebook in front of me like a shield and went back up to the counter to talk with Gloria and Chef Wells.

“Excuse me,” I said as I approached them. Gloria and Chef Wells were arguing and didn’t hear me at first.

“I’m telling you, we need to mix it up a little,” Gloria said. “People are sick of the same old, same old! Sales are down by ten percent this week.”

Chef Wells countered, “Same old, same old is what pays the bills. Putting mushed-up peas on a sandwich? Drowning it in gravy?” He shook his head. “People want turkey! Just turkey!”

“Think about that special we ran last month. Where we put Mom’s meatloaf recipe up there—the one with the cheese down the middle—everyone loved it!”

Chef Wells snorted. “That’s because this is Bear Creek. It was a chance for folks to poke their nose and find out more about your mama.”

Gloria’s mouth puckered like her dad’s words were covered in disgusting gravy. “They can get in line then, can’t they?” she snapped.

Something twisted on Chef Wells’s face. “I’m sure we’ll hear from her so—”

“Whatever.” Gloria huffed and then said, “We need to do something. Not everything can always just stay the same.”

The words were heavy enough to make Chef Wells wince. I knew something about words like that. Mom would say stuff such as “We just need to put one foot in front of the other. Just keep moving forward”—seemingly about something simple, like emptying one of the boxes, but really, she was talking about something else, like moving away from what we used to have. I hated moments like that.

I even hated seeing moments like that.

Without realizing it, I started blurting, “If people are nosey—if that’s what makes people buy new food—you could use their recipes. Like a contest or something. Say that you’re asking local chefs to share their favorite meals and the best ones will be specials at the diner? You could maybe ask a reporter at the paper to cover it.”

Chef Wells and Gloria turned toward me, Chef Wells

with a giant smile on his face that was the exact opposite of Gloria’s screwed-tight expression. But after a couple seconds, Gloria’s face softened. She raised an eyebrow as she considered my idea.

“That’s not bad,” she said.

Has a face ever split in half from smiling? Because I thought that might’ve just happened to me. But then Chef Wells said, “You’ve got a mind for business, kid.”

Smile gone. I did not have a mind for business.

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