A Brave New Venture
It’s not all that often that Parker, Aurelia, and J.R. all wind up getting the same weekday off. But a couple of times a month, when the work-schedule stars align, they have a regular breakfast table at the Sunfisher Diner waiting for them.
A table for four, this morning. Luke has joined them before he heads off to man his summer school classes.
“Is it just me,” Aurelia asks, flipping a page of the Coiner Gazette, “or has the paper seriously gone downhill this year?”
“It’s like everything else,” Luke says, stirring creamer into his coffee. “The economy sucks, so everything is getting cut back. I tell you, I thank God every day that the marching band is such a big deal in this county.”
“Why, what did they cut?” Parker asks. “Hey, J.R., can you hand me the syrup?”
J.R. passes the small tin pitcher over. “So long as the Gazette keeps the rodeo results and Snoopy, I’m not complaining.”
“They finally ditched Cheryl’s Corner,” Aurelia says, flipping the top of the newspaper down to show the block advertisement where the advice column used to be featured.
“That’s not too surprising. I think they were buying that from a paper in Amarillo. It was probably a good chunk of their budget,” Luke says.
“Oh, no! I loved Cheryl’s Corner.” Parker reaches over the table and takes hold of the upside-down section of newspaper, trying to read. “What did they put in place of it?”
“Nothing,” Aurelia says, handing over the paper. “They’re advertising for a local replacement.”
“Yeah, I wish them luck with that,” J.R. says, sawing up his steak. “Don’t know who they think they’re going to find local who wants to dole out advice in the paper. And you’ve got to figure, the ones who would jump at that are the busybodies that you wouldn’t want giving out advice.”
Luke leans in closer to Parker, breath tickling her neck, to read the Do You Have Something To Say? notice. And then says something that reminds Parker that one of the things she likes best about Luke is that he can surprise her on a fairly routine basis.
“You could do that,” he says.
Parker turns her head to stare at him, one eyebrow raised.
J.R. chimes in. “Hey, you know, he’s right. You’re good at telling people what to do. OW!” He clutches his arm and looks reproachfully at Aurelia, who has just socked him. “I meant that in a good way, Aurelia. Shit.”
“Language.”
“Well, boys,” Parker folds the paper, sets it aside, and resumes cutting up her French toast, “as flattered as I am by your faith in my bossing abilities, there are a couple of problems I foresee. For one, I already have a day job--”
“Except,” Aurelia interrupts, “the paper is only out once a week. And each column is, what? Two letters worth of stuff? That’s not a lot of writing.” She glances at J.R. and Luke. “Not that I’m trying to talk you into it. Carry on.”
“And for another,” Parker continues, “I’m not a writer--”
“Well, yeah, but you can write,” J.R. says. “You write stuff for the ranch website all the time.”
“And you have a degree in Psychology,” Luke adds. “I don’t think Cheryl could have claimed that.” He reaches across Parker and picks up the paper. “Look. This sample question they have for applicants to write a response to? You can answer this standing on your head.”
He turns the paper around and holds it up to Parker, so that only his eyes are visible above the newsprint. “C’mon. You know you want to.”
“Have I ever mentioned that you’re a dork?” Parker smiles in spite of herself. “A cute, sexy dork, but a dork nonetheless.”
Luke waggles his eyebrows, and there’s a mutter from J.R.’s quadrant of the table that sounds a bit like, “Eating here.” Followed by an “Ouch!” a small jolt of the table and a rattling of silverware as Aurelia kicks him.
The paper gets set aside and talk turns to summer school, the new ranch employees, and the upcoming football season.
But when they leave the Sunfisher Diner, Parker takes the newspaper with her.
**********
It was just to see what would happen. Parker would swear that on a stack of bibles to anyone who asked. She had had some time on her hands, the sample question that was essentially the newspapers entry interview was ridiculously easy for her to answer, and Luke would get a kick out of it.
And what were the odds? Really?
But one thing led to another, and within a week, before Parker was even quite sure what had happened, she found herself sitting in the office of Eddie Sharpe, Editor of the Coiner Gazette.
Eddie is a man who resembles nothing so much as a five-foot tall weathered leather doll with a shock of white hair. “I sure was glad to get your letter, Miss Lee. I was thinking to might have to scrap this whole idea altogether. Up ‘til I heard from you, the only people who put in for the job were a retired school teacher who will only work off an electric typewriter, and the preacher from that crazy doomsday church up near the canyon.”
Parker’s not sure if she should take this as a good endorsement of her writing abilities or not, but Eddie is going on.
“But then I got your letter, and it was to the point, funny, and, if you’ll forgive my language, refreshingly free of bullshit.” The man smiles, turning his entire face into one big crinkle.
It’s impossible not to grin in return. “Thanks, Mr. Sharpe.”
“Eddie. Please.” He reaches out to quickly catch some papers that the small office’s oscillating fan threaten to blow off of his desk. “Now, like I said, we have space for two letters per week in the paper. But seeing as how you’re young and probably know your way around computers…..see, we’re working on getting the paper up online. We actually get a lot of hits, believe it or not-folks who have moved away, or who visited and liked the place, I reckon. Anyway, if we set up a corner for you-one of those blog type things-do you think you’d be able to find time to answer a few more on there?”
Parker thinks of the door in the back of her closet. What did she ever do before the door to Milliways turned up?
“I think I could find the time,” she says. “Are you expecting a lot of letters?”
Are there really that many people in the county in need of an agony aunt?
“No idea,” Eddie says. “We haven’t tried to do this on a local level since the 1950s. But don’t worry. At least until word spread and people start writing in, we’ll make up stuff for you to answer.” At the look on Parker’s face he adds, “Remember, people read advice columns mainly for entertainment. If they pick up some good sense along the way, so much the better. But hopefully once people start reading, they’ll start writing in themselves. So, what do you say, Miss Lee? Are you in?”
I must be out of my mind, Parker thinks But that little voice is more wryly amused than RUN! RUN SCREAMING NOW!
“I’m in.”
***************
“You guys can’t tell anyone-anyone-that I’m doing this.” Parker fixes each of them with her most serious I will take you to the woodshed and one of us will not come back alive look. J.R. Aurelia. Luke. “Blood oath on a Bible while standing on your mothers’ graves.
“Hey, I already swore on my guitar,” Luke says.
“And on my rodeo titles,” J.R. adds.
“And Shemar Moore’s ass. What?” Aurelia asks when Luke and J.R. turn to stare at her.
“Right, sorry. I know. I’m nuts. I just think that the fewer people who know about this the better. You know?”
Parker automatically looks around. Not that there’s any real risk of eavesdroppers here in the middle of a prairie on a creek bank, with only a disinterested foursome of horses looking on.
“Hey, no argument here,” Luke says. “We won’t tell.”
“Are you going to have one of those whatdoyoucallems? Pen names?” J.R. asks.
“Yeah, that’s my first bit of homework. Coming up with my alter ego.”
“Oh! I vote for someone French,” Luke says.
“French? Why French?” Aurelia asks.
“Why not?”
“Maybe you can base it on your grandma,” Aurelia suggests. “You know. Wise. Been there, done that…”
“Nah,” J.R. says, “you need to go for something different. An alien.”
“An ALIEN?”
“Sure. Smart. Studies people. Follows them around in a little invisible spaceship….”
The horses jerks up their heads, startled, then shake their heads in mild disgust as wild laughter drifts across the dry prairie grass.
A table for four, this morning. Luke has joined them before he heads off to man his summer school classes.
“Is it just me,” Aurelia asks, flipping a page of the Coiner Gazette, “or has the paper seriously gone downhill this year?”
“It’s like everything else,” Luke says, stirring creamer into his coffee. “The economy sucks, so everything is getting cut back. I tell you, I thank God every day that the marching band is such a big deal in this county.”
“Why, what did they cut?” Parker asks. “Hey, J.R., can you hand me the syrup?”
J.R. passes the small tin pitcher over. “So long as the Gazette keeps the rodeo results and Snoopy, I’m not complaining.”
“They finally ditched Cheryl’s Corner,” Aurelia says, flipping the top of the newspaper down to show the block advertisement where the advice column used to be featured.
“That’s not too surprising. I think they were buying that from a paper in Amarillo. It was probably a good chunk of their budget,” Luke says.
“Oh, no! I loved Cheryl’s Corner.” Parker reaches over the table and takes hold of the upside-down section of newspaper, trying to read. “What did they put in place of it?”
“Nothing,” Aurelia says, handing over the paper. “They’re advertising for a local replacement.”
“Yeah, I wish them luck with that,” J.R. says, sawing up his steak. “Don’t know who they think they’re going to find local who wants to dole out advice in the paper. And you’ve got to figure, the ones who would jump at that are the busybodies that you wouldn’t want giving out advice.”
Luke leans in closer to Parker, breath tickling her neck, to read the Do You Have Something To Say? notice. And then says something that reminds Parker that one of the things she likes best about Luke is that he can surprise her on a fairly routine basis.
“You could do that,” he says.
Parker turns her head to stare at him, one eyebrow raised.
J.R. chimes in. “Hey, you know, he’s right. You’re good at telling people what to do. OW!” He clutches his arm and looks reproachfully at Aurelia, who has just socked him. “I meant that in a good way, Aurelia. Shit.”
“Language.”
“Well, boys,” Parker folds the paper, sets it aside, and resumes cutting up her French toast, “as flattered as I am by your faith in my bossing abilities, there are a couple of problems I foresee. For one, I already have a day job--”
“Except,” Aurelia interrupts, “the paper is only out once a week. And each column is, what? Two letters worth of stuff? That’s not a lot of writing.” She glances at J.R. and Luke. “Not that I’m trying to talk you into it. Carry on.”
“And for another,” Parker continues, “I’m not a writer--”
“Well, yeah, but you can write,” J.R. says. “You write stuff for the ranch website all the time.”
“And you have a degree in Psychology,” Luke adds. “I don’t think Cheryl could have claimed that.” He reaches across Parker and picks up the paper. “Look. This sample question they have for applicants to write a response to? You can answer this standing on your head.”
He turns the paper around and holds it up to Parker, so that only his eyes are visible above the newsprint. “C’mon. You know you want to.”
“Have I ever mentioned that you’re a dork?” Parker smiles in spite of herself. “A cute, sexy dork, but a dork nonetheless.”
Luke waggles his eyebrows, and there’s a mutter from J.R.’s quadrant of the table that sounds a bit like, “Eating here.” Followed by an “Ouch!” a small jolt of the table and a rattling of silverware as Aurelia kicks him.
The paper gets set aside and talk turns to summer school, the new ranch employees, and the upcoming football season.
But when they leave the Sunfisher Diner, Parker takes the newspaper with her.
**********
It was just to see what would happen. Parker would swear that on a stack of bibles to anyone who asked. She had had some time on her hands, the sample question that was essentially the newspapers entry interview was ridiculously easy for her to answer, and Luke would get a kick out of it.
And what were the odds? Really?
But one thing led to another, and within a week, before Parker was even quite sure what had happened, she found herself sitting in the office of Eddie Sharpe, Editor of the Coiner Gazette.
Eddie is a man who resembles nothing so much as a five-foot tall weathered leather doll with a shock of white hair. “I sure was glad to get your letter, Miss Lee. I was thinking to might have to scrap this whole idea altogether. Up ‘til I heard from you, the only people who put in for the job were a retired school teacher who will only work off an electric typewriter, and the preacher from that crazy doomsday church up near the canyon.”
Parker’s not sure if she should take this as a good endorsement of her writing abilities or not, but Eddie is going on.
“But then I got your letter, and it was to the point, funny, and, if you’ll forgive my language, refreshingly free of bullshit.” The man smiles, turning his entire face into one big crinkle.
It’s impossible not to grin in return. “Thanks, Mr. Sharpe.”
“Eddie. Please.” He reaches out to quickly catch some papers that the small office’s oscillating fan threaten to blow off of his desk. “Now, like I said, we have space for two letters per week in the paper. But seeing as how you’re young and probably know your way around computers…..see, we’re working on getting the paper up online. We actually get a lot of hits, believe it or not-folks who have moved away, or who visited and liked the place, I reckon. Anyway, if we set up a corner for you-one of those blog type things-do you think you’d be able to find time to answer a few more on there?”
Parker thinks of the door in the back of her closet. What did she ever do before the door to Milliways turned up?
“I think I could find the time,” she says. “Are you expecting a lot of letters?”
Are there really that many people in the county in need of an agony aunt?
“No idea,” Eddie says. “We haven’t tried to do this on a local level since the 1950s. But don’t worry. At least until word spread and people start writing in, we’ll make up stuff for you to answer.” At the look on Parker’s face he adds, “Remember, people read advice columns mainly for entertainment. If they pick up some good sense along the way, so much the better. But hopefully once people start reading, they’ll start writing in themselves. So, what do you say, Miss Lee? Are you in?”
I must be out of my mind, Parker thinks But that little voice is more wryly amused than RUN! RUN SCREAMING NOW!
“I’m in.”
***************
“You guys can’t tell anyone-anyone-that I’m doing this.” Parker fixes each of them with her most serious I will take you to the woodshed and one of us will not come back alive look. J.R. Aurelia. Luke. “Blood oath on a Bible while standing on your mothers’ graves.
“Hey, I already swore on my guitar,” Luke says.
“And on my rodeo titles,” J.R. adds.
“And Shemar Moore’s ass. What?” Aurelia asks when Luke and J.R. turn to stare at her.
“Right, sorry. I know. I’m nuts. I just think that the fewer people who know about this the better. You know?”
Parker automatically looks around. Not that there’s any real risk of eavesdroppers here in the middle of a prairie on a creek bank, with only a disinterested foursome of horses looking on.
“Hey, no argument here,” Luke says. “We won’t tell.”
“Are you going to have one of those whatdoyoucallems? Pen names?” J.R. asks.
“Yeah, that’s my first bit of homework. Coming up with my alter ego.”
“Oh! I vote for someone French,” Luke says.
“French? Why French?” Aurelia asks.
“Why not?”
“Maybe you can base it on your grandma,” Aurelia suggests. “You know. Wise. Been there, done that…”
“Nah,” J.R. says, “you need to go for something different. An alien.”
“An ALIEN?”
“Sure. Smart. Studies people. Follows them around in a little invisible spaceship….”
The horses jerks up their heads, startled, then shake their heads in mild disgust as wild laughter drifts across the dry prairie grass.