She started to twist back around to face her monitor, but then spun her chair back toward me.
“I’ve got an idea for you. I heard there might be an associate producer opening on one of the other shows soon, but they’d want someone with some field producing under their belt. Larson’s flying to Nashville next week to interview some folks at the Vandy Med School about a new procedure to help kids with congenital heart defects. It’s a piece for February sweeps. I haven’t assigned him a field producer yet. You can have it if you want it. It should be a great story, and it would give you some field producing experience. Anything you do for Overstreet Live’s gonna get the attention of the bosses—this show’s their baby. Interested?”
“It sounds like a great story, but… I’d travel… with Larson?”
“Yeah. You two would fly there. We’re using a photog from our affiliate in Nashville, so y’all would work with him, spend a day or two getting the interviews, come back and put the story together. It actually would be a perfect project for you to start out on because there’s less time-pressure than regular field producing. This won’t air for a few weeks. I think it’s exactly what you need.”
I sat back in my chair, my earlier enthusiasm for quick promotion deflated. A day or two.
With Larson.
“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m the right person for that.”
Deb’s eyes gleamed as she sipped from her coffee mug. Now that she’d come up with the idea, she wasn’t about to let it go.
“Don’t worry—you’ll be great. You’re the most capable assistant I’ve had in a long time. I know you haven’t field-produced, but you have reporting experience from your last job—it’s basically the same thing. It won’t be hard for you. All you’ll have to do is—”
I scooted my chair back over toward my keyboard. “I appreciate it, but maybe you’re right. I still have so much to learn about this position. Maybe I shouldn’t get ahead of myself with the whole promotion thing.”
Deb’s expression softened into her compassionate-mom-look.
“Hey—don’t doubt yourself, okay? You’re talented enough to rise through the ranks quickly here—just like I did. You don’t want to be a WNN peon all your life, right?”
I shook my head.
“Okay, well then think about it before you say ‘no.’”
“Okay, I will. Thanks.” And unfortunately for the viewers who had to suffer through my scripts, I did think about it… all day long.
On one hand, I’d been wanting to try field producing.
On the other, I’d have to spend a lot of time with Larson.
On one hand, it was Nashville. Maybe I could see Heidi while I was there.
On the other hand—two days. With Larson.
On one hand, it would be nice to spend a couple days away from home, away from my mother’s nagging to resume my mission and lasso and hog-tie her a rich son-in-law.
On the other hand—
“Oh—Larson. I didn’t see you. How was the show? Everything okay with your scripts?”
My pulse came instantly to attention, making my breaths shallow and quick.
He stood beside my shoulder, looking down at me.
Don’t sit down.
He sat down, doing that sexy half-lean, half-sit thing on the edge of my desk, a move only guys seemed to be able to pull off. He did it exceptionally well.
“Sure, your scripts were fine.” He held up a reassuring hand. “And don’t worry—I’m not here to criticize your taste in men or tell you how pretty you look.”
He gave me a smile so gorgeous it was hard not to blurt out how pretty he looked.
I dropped my gaze to my lap and studied the pattern in my skirt with rapt concentration.
“I just came over to talk about the shoot in Nashville next week.” At my lack of response he expounded. “Deb told me you’re going to field produce the pediatric heart surgery piece?”
My head shot back up. Uh oh. Was my utter horror obvious to him? Back to the fascinating skirt fabric. Amazing how they weave all those little threads together.
“Oh, well, I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I didn’t really tell her ‘yes.’ I’m just not sure I can. I’m not really…”
He rose from the desktop. “Oh—my bad. I thought you were doing it. Well, if I can answer any questions for you about the story, let me know. Have a safe drive home.”
Of course I called Heidi after work. “What are you doing next Thursday and Friday?”
Picking up a whiff of possibility, she asked, “I don’t know. What am I doing? Are you coming here? Did you get some time off already?”
“No, they actually want me to field produce a piece at Vanderbilt Med School. If I came, would you have any time to see me after work?”
Heidi had accepted a noon and five-thirty anchoring job in Nashville when her contract at WPVG ended. A few months later, her fiancé Aric had gotten a job there in sports, so she was pretty much living the dream, professionally and personally.
“Of course! And you have to stay with me—don’t stay in a hotel, okay?” she said.
“Well, I’m not a hundred percent sure I’m coming, but thanks for the offer. I’d love to stay with you if I come. It would give us more time together.”
“Oh, you have to come, Kens. We’ll take you out somewhere fun. And we can talk wedding plans.” Her high-pitched excitement was contagious.
I laughed. “Okay—well, I’m not sure I can refuse now that you’ve played the bride-card—so unfair.”
“Good. I’m glad it worked. Just let me know when you get into town. I’ll come pick you up whenever you’re finished with your shoot, or you can come to the station or whatever.”
“Okay, I’ll call you.”
“That’s a yes!” Heidi squealed.
“That’s a maybe. I’ll call you—either way.”
The Nashville plan got an even better reception from Momma a few days later when I mentioned it before dinner.
Which I never should have done. She immediately launched into full catch-a-man scheming mode.
She marched upstairs to my room with me following, going to my closet and pulling out coordinating items with the religious fervor of the truly inspired.
“Now this would be perfect for the flight. It won’t wrinkle and it’ll hide the way your hips have widened recently. Then when you get there, you can change into this darling little—”
“Momma. Calm down.” I planted my hands on my apparently monstrous hips. “No one’s going to see what I’m wearing. It doesn’t matter.”
She gave me the whose-child-is-this look she wore so often lately. “Of course it matters, Kenley. Larson will see you. This is your chance to catch his attention and show him you’re not the pitiful, mousy thing you’ve been pretending to be, that you can fit right into his world of finance-people and fashion-people and celebrities.”
I rolled my eyes behind her back. “What about Mark?”
“What about him?”
“I thought you wanted me to get back together with him.”