Kathleen found herself intrigued by this passionate man.
“And you, Jack, where do you fit into the life here?”
“Me? Why I’m a rabid environmentalist who insists on
riding a destructive mountain bike everywhere in these red rocks when I have time to leave this goddamn computer. That’s how I let off the tension that will probably kill me someday.”
Kathleen was silent. She fiddled with her purse handle, thinking. She loved writing articles like Jack described, the indepth profile story that gives the reader a small, but tell-tale glimpse into the character of the person or place being profiled. She was tired of covering the Phoenix City Council’s political dreariness.
“I don’t know, Jack.” Her voice was uncertain.
“What’s there not to know?”
“I like what you would want me to do, although I know you can’t pay me the kind of salary I’m already getting at the Republic. But more important, I don’t really see any advantage to working in this town. I think you know that I have some bad memories attached to this place.”
Jack Berens walked around his desk and leaned back into it, facing Kathleen.
“Look, Kathleen. I know who you were married to. I also can guess what life must have been like as Scott Buckley’s wife living among Sedona’s wealthy. Those people never knew who you really were before you married Scott. All they knew was that you gave marvelous dinner parties and you could carry on the best of conversations. The next thing they knew is that you left Scott and Sedona, and the impression was that you left with your tail between your legs.”
She looked up at him, surprised by his accurate analysis of her previous life. Kathleen stared hard at Jack, trying to discern who he really was.
Funny, she thought. I can’t get a read on this guy. She felt inclined to pass up his offer because she sensed he would be difficult to work with.
“Well, if you come back to Sedona to work for me, it will sure as hell give the insiders something to talk about.”
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