Her Last Best Fling by Candace Havens

you with something, but you looked at me like I was a crazy person.
    “I know I don’t dress as fancy as you do. But clothes are how I express myself. And I’ve been studying so hard. I hid the books when you walked by because I was afraid you’d get mad if you saw me. I wanted to talk to you about it. I was hoping, since you were a woman, that maybe you’d give me a chance. But you make me so nervous, I don’t know if I’m doing anything right and I sure don’t want to ask for a favor.”
    Staring down at the files on her desk, Macy thought back. She’d been off on her own for so long that she was used to doing everything herself. When she was on assignment, it was expected.
    And she’d been sullen and angry when she first got to Tranquil Waters. Had she taken it out on the staff? Did she have the scary face, her game face, on as Cherie called it, when she was walking around town? The same face she had when traveling, so that no one bugged her? No wonder folks thought she was some mean, Yankee shrew.
    “That doesn’t explain your hostility, Amanda, and what do you mean you’ve been studying hard? I’ve seldom seen you without a nail file in your hand.”
    “You know how you don’t know how to act so you act like the other person even though you don’t know why someone hates you.... I guess that’s what happened. When a person is mean to me, I just do the same back. I’m kind of flaky. I’ll give you that.
    “You’re some important war correspondent, I figured being professional maybe meant being mean. I saw that old movie The Devil Wears Prada. That editor was horrible.”
    Was the woman really taking her cues from a film?
    “Yes, but that was fiction. I don’t expect you to fall all over yourself, but I do insist on common courtesy.” She held up the messages. “And this—this is bad.”
    The woman scrunched her face. “I considered throwing them in the trash so you wouldn’t find out. It took everything I had to give them to you. When you came in yesterday, you were in such a hurry that I didn’t get a chance to pass them on. I stuck them under the phone so I’d remember, but Mrs. Dawes, the cleaner, must have moved them.”
    Macy gave her an incredulous look.
    “I know, I know. But I mean it. I’ve been studying journalism at an online college. I have to do it like that because my mom is sick and I have to be home to watch my brothers at night when my dad’s at work. So in the mornings, I’m tired and can barely keep my eyes open. The nail file thing is a kind of way to trick myself. I hate the sound, but it keeps me awake.
    “I promise I’ll try to be better. I’ll do whatever you ask, just give me two more weeks.”
    Amanda folded her hands in her lap. The tears continued to roll down her face, and each one churned Macy’s stomach a little more.
    She felt sick. If the story was true, and her instincts said that it was, Macy had indeed been horrible with a capital H.
    Journalism 101 was to find out the real story. Everyone had one, and most of the time they were fascinating.
    “May I ask what’s wrong with your mom? And you should know, as an employee, you do not have to tell me.”
    “Breast cancer. It’s her third time with it. My grandma and aunts all died of it. But she’s doing better. This last round of chemo and radiation has taken its toll, but the docs say her counts are good. Dad drives her to Houston once a week for treatment.
    “She just doesn’t have any energy. I’m the oldest of four, and all under sixteen. So I help out around the house and try to give them money when I can, since Mom can’t work right now.”
    Shame on you, Macy Reynolds. Shame on you.
    Dear God, she’d almost fired the poor woman and had the entire family out on the street.
    The journalist in her told her to stop right there, that she was being too soft. If Amanda worked at one of the top one hundred papers, she’d be out. Everyone had to do the job of five or six people these days. When