In Every Heartbeat by Kim Vogel Sawyer Read Free Book Online

“See you later! Wish me luck!” She whirled and took off running for the walkway that led to the street.
    “Luck? Luck for what?”
    Bennett’s voice followed her, but she ignored him and continued on her pell-mell dash. Before coming to Chambers, she’d written to the town’s Association of Commerce and requested the names and addresses of every newspaper in town. She intended to inquire at all three for a position.
    Certainly with everything heating up across the ocean, there would be a need for journalists to record the events as they unfolded. Libby had heard Aaron Rowley and Jackson Harders praise President Wilson’s calm demeanor in light of Germany’s aggression—the men seemed certain the president would work to keep America out of the conflict. Thankfully, Petey and Bennett were enrolled in college and were therefore safe from fighting in a war. But if she had her way, she’d be in the thick of it, pad of paper and pencil in hand, reporting every detail of the skirmish. To do that, she had to have a job with a newspaper.
    She stopped first at the Chambers Courier . To her delight, she was ushered in to the editor’s office, but her elation quickly dimmed when the man openly laughed at her desire to write news stories.
    “You’re too cute, honey,” the man said, giving a brazen wink. “Better suited for a drugstore clerk. Why don’t you check next door—they might be hiring.”
    Libby marched right past the drugstore and made her way to the second paper on her list, the Weekly Dispatch . The editor took the time to glance at a few of her writing samples before telling her he didn’t need any other reporters—but was she any good at mopping? He could use a reliable cleaning woman.
    Libby reined in her frustration and replied in an even voice. “Sir, I have no desire to clean for your newspaper. I wish to write.”
    “Sorry.” He pushed her stack of sample stories across the desk. “I don’t think I’ll ever hire a female to do reporting. As a whole, females are too moody.”
    Libby almost proved him right by flying into a temper, but she bit down on the end of her tongue. She gathered her stories, tucked them neatly into her satchel, and charged outside before the angry thoughts filling her head found their way out of her mouth.
    On the sidewalk, she looked at the final name on the list and muttered, “My last hope . . .” Sucking in a breath of fortification, she turned on her heel and headed for the red brick building on the corner of Second and Ash. When she reached the glass doors, she raised her chin and marched in, her satchel held in the crook of her arm. She moved directly to the receptionist’s desk and spoke with as much confidence as she could muster. “I’d like a few minutes with the editor-in-chief, please.”
    The woman peered at her from behind thick round spectacles. “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Houghton?”
    Libby didn’t bat an eye. “No, ma’am, but I promise not to take a great deal of his time. Would you please tell him Miss Elisabet Conley from the University of Southern Missouri is here to see him?”
    The eyes behind the spectacles narrowed. “You aren’t here to sell him an ad for the yearbook, are you? He already purchased all his ads for this year.”
    “Oh no, ma’am.” Libby released a soft laugh, giving the woman a smile. “I assure you, I’m not here to sell him anything.” Except myself . . .
    “Well . . .” The woman tapped her pencil against a pad of paper on her desk, scowling. “I suppose it won’t hurt to ask. You stay here.” She screeched her chair legs against the wooden floor, unfolded herself from the seat, and waddled around a corner. Libby waited, battling the urge to tap her toe in impatience. Moments later, the woman returned, followed by a tall, gray-haired man with his shirt sleeves rolled above his elbows. Black ink stained the tips of the fingers on his left hand.
    “Miss Conley, I’m Fenton Houghton. How may I