Different Drummers by Jean Houghton-Beatty Page B

seemed to flit across Mr. Tate’s face when Freddie mentioned Bob?
    â€œSo, you’re an English girl, married to one of our local boys. This surely is news. Welcome to America, Miz Conroy.”
    â€œThank you, sir. I’m pleased to be here.”
    â€œWill you and Bobby be settling down in Eddisville when he gets out of the army?”
    â€œI don’t know yet. It’s too early to tell. I’m hoping he’s already on his way home. He could even get here today.”
    Mr. Tate looked at his watch. “I’m supposed to be heading out toward Beaufort in ten minutes, otherwise I could interview you now.”
    He pulled a small red book from his shirt pocket and flicked through the pages. “Let’s see if we can pick a date here. Yep, this’ll do. Can you come by our offices next Monday at eleven o’clock? And bring a photograph of yourself. If you don’t have one, we can take one. After all, what’s a story about a new girl in town without a picture to show what she looks like?”
    Freddie beamed. “Ain’t this great, Kathleen? You’ll be a celebrity, in the paper an’ all, and you only just got here.”
    â€œI didn’t expect this,” she said. “I’ve never had my photograph or anything else about me in a newspaper before. It’ll be something I can send home to my family.”
    â€œRight then, we’ll expect you Monday.”
    Mr. Tate smiled, then drained his coffee cup. “I wouldn’t be as rushed as I am, if Patsy Ashcraft wasn’t in the family way. You know her don’t you, Freddie? Well, she’s out more than she’s in these days. I don’t suppose she can help that but I’m having the hardest time finding someone to fill her shoes.”
    As he replaced his little red book, he gave Kathleen a quizzical look. “This is a long shot, but what kind of work did you do in England? There isn’t one chance in a hundred is there that you can type and maybe take shorthand?”
    â€œWhy yes, I can do both. Before I left England I was a secretary with a large pharmaceutical company.”
    Mr. Tate leaned forward. “Is that a fact? Still, I don’t suppose there’s a snowball’s chance in hell you’d be interested in getting a job, especially so soon after getting here?”
    Kathleen twirled her empty glass. “To tell you the truth, I hadn’t thought about it. But I enjoy working and I’m sure the money will come in handy.”
    â€œDo you think you might like to work for a weekly newspaper?”
    â€œWhy yes, yes I would,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. “But I know absolutely nothing about the newspaper business.”
    â€œIt wouldn’t take long to learn.” Mr. Tate’s smile was encouraging as he looked at her over his glasses. “I could interview you on Monday, the same time we do the story on you.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’m not promising anything mind you, and then again, there’s the chance you won’t like us. But seeing as how you’re coming in anyway…”
    His voice trailed off as he looked at his watch again. “You think on it, young lady,” he said as he stood up and reached for his hat. He pulled a business card from his hatband, one of half a dozen planted there. “My phone number’s on here. Give Patsy a call just as soon as you can.” He put his hat on. “I really have to go. Good-day to you both.”
    â€œWell, I’ll be,” Freddie Conroy said as Mr. Tate practically fell out the door in his haste to be gone. “You’re only in town five minutes and already you’ve been offered one of the best jobs in Eddisville, for a woman anyway.”
    Kathleen looked up from the card. “Ah, come on Freddie, I’m only going for an interview. And besides, I’m a foreigner, brand new in town. Why would he pick