Betting on Hope by Debra Clopton Read Free Book Online Page A

double shot of caffeine to help her face the inevitable disappointment of all of her superiors.
    The coffee shop was hopping today. Maggie stood with her back to the wide-screen television over in the seating area. Many of the regulars sat and drank their coffee and ate their muffins as they watched Wake Up with Amanda . Maggie never had time or the inclination to sit in the busy place, preferring solitude to do her writing.
    The line moved forward and the lady beside her tugged her arm.
    “Isn’t that you?”
    “Excuse me?” Maggie said, not understanding.
    “There.” The lady pointed to the flat-screen TV.
    Maggie gasped. The interview she’d done with Tru Monahan was playing. No .
    “It is you,” the lady declared accusingly, then spun back to watch the interview.
    It was playing the part where Tru was holding her hand. Maggie’s stomach dropped to her knees. They were showing the entire interview.
    Other people had begun to look at her. Herb, the man behind the counter who had been serving her coffee almost every day for the last year, did a double take.
    “Hey, Maggie, you’re on TV.”
    “Yeah,” she laughed, backing out of the door. “Gotta run,” she called, and set out for the office at a fast clip. What was going on? There had been a mistake. There was no other reason they would show that entire interview otherwise.
    She caught the elevator and tapped her foot anxiously waiting for the fourth floor. The doors had barely opened when her boss spotted her from across the expansive office from her doorway. “Maggie,” she rasped, waving her over.
    Now in her sixties, Helen Davenport had smoked like a train all of her life and just recently given up the habit. It was a little too late for her skin, which was as wrinkled as a Shar Pei’s and her voice was as raspy as gravel in a mixer.
    “My office. Now.”
    Her steps faltering, Maggie wove through the cubicles feeling all eyes on her as she went. This was it. There had been some horrible mistake. She’d now embarrassed the newspaper and the network.
    Ms. Davenport closed the door after she’d entered and then hurried to take her seat behind her very large desk. “Sit, sit,” she said absently, waving Maggie to one of the two pale blue chairs across from her. She was all smiles—that alone was scary. Helen Davenport rarely smiled.
    Maggie sank into the first chair; it was easy since she felt like she’d swallowed a case of horseshoes. She attempted a weak smile, but said nothing. What could she say?
    “So, that was some interview.”
    “About that—I’m so sorry.”
    “Sorry? Are you kidding me? We all thought the bet you threw out for Tru was pure genius. The station is so excited they aired it this morning. Did you catch it? The phones are buzzing with requests to see Tru Monahan teach you to ride a Quarter Horse.”
    Maggie hadn’t gotten much past the genius statement. Were they kidding? “But, I was just rattled, and blurted that out because I’d be hopeless on a horse.”
    “That’s what I love about you, Maggie, you never boast. You sell yourself short every time. Let me give you a word of advice. In this business, being humble gets you nowhere. Actions speak louder than words, and yesterday you spoke volumes. You’re a hit. Well done.”
    “But, I don’t understand.”
    Ms. Davenport’s crinkled red lips spread wider. “What’s there to not understand? This is a win-win situation. This will help your column, because you are going to write about your experience weekly. You’ll document as you go and still give some advice. But don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of space, because we are going to allot an extra slot for a continuing progress report. You and the paper win with better ratings, the station wins with the publicity this is garnering and the follow-up special they’ll air in the end, and Tru Monahan’s sponsors will win because of the advertising spotlight this will put on them.”
    “While I do what?” Dread