Prologue

PROLOGUE

ZEVA

“ T he Guild Newspaper wrote another doozy of an article, while the only piece we mustered up is about Mr. Renal’s lost chicken!” Our chief editor, Daniel Shortfall, jabs his finger at the dozen people in the room. “The people of Clemson deserve better!”

When Daniel says ‘the people’ with such ferocity, I swear he’s practicing a run for office. The man knows how to command a room with flair. However, he not only likes the sound of his own voice, he listens to the ideas from his journalists, which was why I still work for him. The holiday season doesn’t help his mood either. The closer we get to Christmas, the grumpier he becomes.

There are no decorations in the office. Not a Christmas tree in sight—which only makes me antsy for the smell of fresh pine. The threat of no bonus hangs heavy in the air beginning each November as a memo forbidding ugly Christmas sweaters lands on our desks.

“We need a story that is going to hit the hearts of readers and we are going to tell it first!”

Andy’s hand shoots up in the air before I can stop him. “Ketchuptown is lighting decorations in the Botanical Garden this year.”

Daniel’s eyes narrow, homing in on my friend, and I cringe. When Daniel says he wants to hit the hearts of readers, he doesn’t mean with holiday cheer. He wants their holiday cheer crushed. “I am demoting you to running retail ads.”

“What about Pure Fluff, my animal column?” Andy gapes.

Poor guy. I hear the tears in his voice. Andy writes a great animal column. He isn’t just a great dog dad, but fosters a turkey named Spencer, a bunny called Killer, and everything in between.

“Sara, you’re promoted.” Daniel jabs his finger at the intern with a stack of mail clutched to her chest.

Andy grumbles beside me, while Sara’s wide eyes say she’s just as shocked by the sudden announcement, perhaps even terrified. Considering she is our office clerk and now has to churn out an animal interest story once a week, her loss of color is justified. I nudge Andy, reassuring him that Daniel will forget all about his resignment in two weeks, when the jolly fat man returns to the North Pole or to Daniel’s stony heart.

“Any other brilliant ideas?” Daniel glances around the room for volunteers, but no one is crazy enough to put their columns on the chopping block.

I worked with Daniel long enough to know that the meeting won’t be over until he hears a great idea. The vacant spot on the team that writes hard news isn’t vacant by coincidence. It’s vacant because of the toxic competition the position fuels. As the only journalist in the room to win three baking contests in a row, I have a zero chance of getting reassigned from my baking column to write front page news. I raise my hand.

“What are you doing?” Andy hisses.

I clear my throat, then squirm in my chair as all eyes turn toward me. “We hear lots of stories of good deeds this time of year. Many talk about the nice list, but the real excitement lies in the mysterious naughty list?—”

“It’s entertaining. And readers love drama,” my boss agrees.

“Send Steve or Brad to Magnolia. In a town that size, there’s no way everyone’s jolly.”

“Yes! I love it. But you’re going to Magnolia, Zeva.”

I swallow.