In Every Heartbeat by Kim Vogel Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page A

help you?”
    Libby flashed her brightest smile. “Actually, sir, I’m here to help you. Could we possibly retire to your office for a few minutes?”
    His lips quirked briefly. “As long as it is just a few minutes.”
    Although he maintained a friendly expression, Libby caught the subtle warning in his words. She tipped her head. “Five at most?”
    “That I can spare.” He gestured toward the hallway, and Libby clipped behind him. The clack of typewriter keys rang over the mumble of voices, making Libby’s pulse race in curiosity. What stories were being created by the fingers tapping those keys right now? She breathed in the enticing scents of ink and paper, the combination more heady than perfume. This is where I belong!
    Mr. Houghton ushered her in to a large cluttered office and pointed to a ladder-back chair. “Have a seat.” He sank into the leather chair behind the desk and leaned back, linking his hands over his stomach. “Don’t tell me—you want to be a reporter.”
    Libby’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”
    He waved his hand as if shooing a fly. “I get at least a dozen prospective reporters a year through here. Most of them are . . .” He cleared his throat. “Of the male persuasion, however.”
    Of course . “Well, I have no intention of letting my gender interfere with my becoming a top-notch reporter.” Libby flopped her satchel open and withdrew a few neatly written pages. “As you can see from my work, I—”
    Again, Mr. Houghton put a hand in the air. “Hold it right there, young lady.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk. “How old are you?”
    Too stunned to do otherwise, Libby answered automatically.
    “Eighteen, sir.”
    “Have any training?”
    “No, but I am enrolled in the university.”
    “First-year student?”
    “Yes.”
    “In the journalism program?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Mm-hmm.” He stroked his upper lip with his finger. “Enrolling more females all the time . . .” He lowered his hand and gazed seriously across the desk. “Miss Conley, let me give you some advice. I can see you’re a determined young woman. I even admire your desire to become—as you put it—a top-notch reporter. But it takes more than drive and determination. It takes experience. And that’s something you don’t have.”
    Libby, remembering the morning’s many rejections, blew out an aggravated breath. This man couldn’t reject her, too! “And how am I to get experience if no one gives me a chance?”
    Mr. Houghton laughed. “Miss Conley, you’ll have your chance at the university. The journalism program publishes two newspapers right there on campus. You’ll be involved in the production of those publications. There’s your opportunity to build experience.”
    But Libby didn’t want her name in a college newspaper; she aspired to greater things. She scooted to the edge of the seat and rested her fingertips on the editor’s desk. “But what if I want something more? Won’t you just look at my writings? My teacher from Shay’s Ford assured me I had a gift.”
    “Writers with a gift are a dime a dozen,” the man said with a wave of his hand. “What counts is can—you—do—the—job.” He punched out each word with as much force as a boxer. He pointed at her. “And that assurance comes from building a résumé of writings with an established, recognized publication, such as the newspapers on campus.” He started to rise. “So—”
    Libby grabbed the seat of the chair with both hands, holding herself in place. “Mr. Houghton?”
    He paused, his lips twitching. “Yes, Miss Conley?”
    “I would very much like to build a résumé, but not with a college newspaper. I prefer a more well-read publication. If you aren’t willing to hire me as a part of your staff, do you have any recommendations?”
    The man plopped back into his chair. He rocked for a few seconds, scowling across the desk at Libby. Then he sighed. “Try magazines. From