In the Chatelaine Daily News office’s main conference room, Devin, Charles, and Quinn sat at the large rectangular table reviewing a draft of Sunday’s newspaper on their tablets and laptops. The program they used allowed them to make changes in real time so they could all see and comment on adjustments.
As Devin scanned the pages, one thought shadowed the rest in his mind. Bea was pregnant.
After their night together, he’d realized that was a possibility, but hearing her say the words was a whole other reality.
She’d looked so anxious. Assuring her that everything would be okay had been important to him. And he would live up to his promise to be there for her. But was he ready to be a dad again?
His heart thumped a little harder as he released a pent-up exhale. He and Lauren had planned having Carly. And as a married couple, bringing a child into the world had been a natural next step for them.
He and Bea weren’t even close to ready for this. And they had to find a way to get there. Starting with her forgiving him.
The hurt look on Bea’s face that morning after he’d confessed to writing the review about the café played in his mind.
I’m not holding it against you for not telling me, Devin. I was the one who suggested we set everything aside. But that doesn’t erase the fact you encouraged people to question if they should give my restaurant another chance... I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about this. I need time...
That was what she’d told him before she’d gotten out of his truck. She’d also mentioned she’d contact him when she was ready. He could have mentioned that by not being transparent about what had happened at the café on opening night, she’d missed the opportunity for there to be a balanced view on her situation.
But that thinking was from the outside point of view of a journalist and restaurant critic. Not Bea’s...what? Just the father of her baby? Had his admission relegated him to only that role in her life? Discontent and concern tugged in his gut. He didn’t just want to know his baby, he wanted to get to know Bea.
When they’d been at the wedding reception, they’d shared a natural connection that hadn’t been merely on a physical level. A part of him believed that even though they had put a one-night limit on being together, they still would have linked up again. Their connection might have grown into something more. Wasn’t that part of their relationship worth exploring, especially now that they were expecting a child together?
The front door chimed in the reception area, jarring him from his thoughts.
Quinn got up and breezed out of the room. The brunette in her early forties never slowed down, even when she was seated. She just moved from task to task with a fluid ease.
Charles slid his glasses farther up his nose, took a sip of coffee, and kept working. In the midst of calm or chaos, the bald-headed managing editor always retained an intense focus.
Moments later, Quinn popped her head in the door. “Devin—someone’s here to see you.”
Was it Bea? Hope made him sit up straight in the chair. “Who is it?”
“A woman named Morgana—she said you two spoke over the phone?”
Masking disappointment, Devin sat back in the chair. “We did. But she’s early. We’re not meeting until later this afternoon.”
“Go ahead.” Charles chimed in. “Quinn and I can handle this.”
Considering how his mind was wandering, it was probably best to turn it over to them. Devin looked to Quinn. “Show her to my office, please. I’ll be there in a minute.”
After briefly discussing a layout issue with Charles, Devin left the conference room and headed to his office two doors down.
Charles’s office was located on the opposite side of the main floor, and Quinn’s desk was in the adjoining reception area.
The remaining offices bordering the square-shaped space were empty, along with the four desks in the middle of the room.
Years ago, the office had been occupied by full-time reporters, advertising sales reps, photographers and assistants. An electric energy had buzzed through the building, especially during the pre-publication phase of the paper. But those days were gone forever. Printed newspapers were dying out in favor of online resources.
Now freelance reporters came in and temporarily occupied a desk when they were writing a story for the paper. Or when Carly was there, she would set up camp and do her homework while waiting for him to finish for the day.
Devin’s gaze landed on one of the desks that was now being used as a catchall for files, office supplies, past editions of the paper, and new packages of dog chew toys.
Moving to a smaller, cheaper office space outside of downtown Chatelaine had crossed his mind, but he wasn’t ready to leave the good memories of being there with his father. Or Carly being there as well.
In his office, a tall, slender woman with brown hair dressed in casual clothes stood with her back toward him.
He walked in. “Morgana?”
She turned around. “Yes, hello.”
At first glance, the young woman looked like a teenager, but her green eyes reflected a maturity that came with adulthood. He figured she was at least in her twenties.
Returning her smile, he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Morgana. I’m Devin. Have a seat.”
She sat in front of the oak desk, and he settled into the chair behind it.
Just like his home, this office didn’t have a lot of extras—just a desk, chairs, and a couple of filing cabinets and a couch along the wall.
But the space seemed a lot smaller without Chumley and all of the toys and other pet items Devin had bought to accommodate the large Great Dane. He’d given everything to Chumley’s new owners, and they’d been grateful to have them.
Speaking of which...he’d received another message from the shelter. There was a strong chance that he would be fostering Francis until they found him a new home.
Out of habit, Devin flipped to a clean page in the spiral notebook in front of him. He always took notes during meetings and preferred the old-school way of writing things out when he was in his office. “So in your email, you mentioned you wanted to look through our archives. What time period are you interested in?”
Morgana adjusted the small backpack on her lap. “The mid-1960s through the early 1970s.”
“Oh, you want to go that far back? We’re still uploading the editions from those years into our system.”
The young woman’s gaze dropped as a look of disappointment came over her face. “So you can’t help me.”
“No—we can still help. It just might take a little time. Everything from those years is still stored on floppy disks.”
Morgana perked up. “I don’t mind searching through them. Can I start now?”
Her sudden shift to eagerness raised his curiosity. “I don’t see why not.” He stood. “Just let me check in with my staff assistant about the disks.” Just before he reached the door, he paused. “Are you searching for anything in particular? It could help narrow the search for the files.”
“No, but I’ll know it when I see it.” Morgana made steady eye contact with him, but she was clutching the backpack.
“Okay. Sit tight. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She exhaled with a smile. “Thanks.”
He checked with Quinn. The disks were located in the spare office where she’d been working on the filing project.
“All of the disks from 1960 to 1970 are in separate boxes,” his assistant said. “I just took them out of storage, and I haven’t gotten around to putting them in order, so she’ll have to search them. There’s also another box with disks that have labels with just headers but no dates. Did she mention what she was looking for? That box might be a place to start.”
“She claims she doesn’t know but that she’ll recognize what it is when she sees it.”
“Do you want me to help her sort through them?” Quinn offered.
Devin shook his head. It didn’t make sense to pull her away from working on the paper with Charles, and he was curious to find out what Morgana was up to. He got the sense she was hiding something. “No, I’ll do it.”
A few minutes later, he stood in the spare office with the young woman. He opened a medium-sized box marked 1960 which he’d put on the desk. “Are you sure there isn’t more to go on to help with your search?” he asked. “Like a year or a span of years or a particular subject, like birth or death announcements or real estate listings?” He was fishing for information, but it was worth a shot.
“I’m not looking for those types of records. I’m more interested in a time frame...” Frowning, she worried her lower lip with her teeth, almost as if she was afraid to say too much. “I should probably check out 1964 to 1965.”
“That helps.” He started taking disks out of the box and laying them on the desk. “Let’s get to it.”
“Oh, no—you’re busy. I can do it.”
“I don’t mind. Things will go faster if you let me help you weed through them. After that, I’ll set you up on the computer with a disk reader and you can start your search.”
She flashed him a grateful look. “That sounds good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Minutes ticked by as they sorted in silence.
As Devin added a disk to the 1964 stack, he asked, “Do you live in the area?”
“I guess you could say that.” Morgana set aside a disk she didn’t need. “I just moved here. I don’t have a place yet, so I’m renting a room at the Chatelaine Motel.”
It made sense that she was staying there. The motel functioned as an overnight lodging destination for travelers and a rooming house for extended visits. And it was the only option for anyone who didn’t have friends or family in town.
“Well, if no one has told you yet, welcome to Chatelaine.”
“Thanks.” Her deliberate movements and her silence gave a clear message. She didn’t want to talk about herself.
Devin set the question he really wanted to ask aside—why had she moved there? No one relocated to Chatelaine without a reason.
They finished sorting through the disks. He left Morgana to search through them and went back to the conference room.
A couple of hours later as he headed to his office, he glanced toward where Morgana worked. She was still at it. He should probably check and see how it was going. Just as he reached the threshold of the spare office, Morgana barreled out, almost running into him.
“Oh.” She gave him a polite smile. “I was coming to find you. I’m done. I wasn’t sure what to do with the disks I was sorting through, so I left them on the desk.”
“That’s fine. Are you sure you won’t be back? I can leave them out for you.”
“No, but thanks for your help. I’m good.”
But her expression reflected the opposite of good as she turned away. She looked kind of rattled.
Morgana left, and he went inside the spare office. As he went to put the disks back into the box, papers in the trash basket caught his eye.
He took them out and flattened them on the desk. From the way they were crumpled, they’d gotten caught in the printer.
Most of the main text was unreadable, but the headlines of the articles jumped out. Worst Mining Disaster in History of Chatelaine... Bodies of 50 Victims Found in Silver Mine... Locals Demand Answers about the Mining Accident...
She’d been researching the 1965 Fortune silver mine collapse? That seemed pretty specific considering Morgana had said she didn’t know what she was looking for.
Devin slid the pile of disks she’d searched through closer to the computer and sat behind the desk. A stack of invoices waited for him in his office, but he would get to them later. Logically, the last disks she’d searched were on top.
Following Morgana’s trail, he found the articles with the headlines on the crumpled pages and printed them out.
The articles had a few things in common. Their focus wasn’t so much on the accident itself but the aftermath and speculation. And aside from Edgar and Elias Fortune, another name was prominent on the page. The mine foreman, Clint Wells, who’d also died in the collapse. They all seemed to point the blame to him.
Going with his instincts, Devin switched to searching for death announcements after the mining disaster and found one for Mr. Wells. He was survived by his wife Gwenyth and an eighteen-year-old daughter, Renee.
Devin sat back in the chair. Interesting.
The alarm on his phone chimed. Carly... She was at an after-school club meeting, and he was supposed to pick her up. If he was late, Lauren wouldn’t hesitate to point that out during their first meeting with the mediator tomorrow morning.
He quickly put away the disks, shut down the computer, then hurried out the building to his truck.
All the while, his mind raced with thoughts of Morgana searching for information on the silver mine. Did she know something about those notes that had been left about there being a fifty-first miner who had perished? Or was her interest in the accident just a coincidence?