Twice Dead by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page B

luxury for a newspaper, Mr. Bradstreet, not a necessity. I’m the last sort of frill a small newspaper needs.”
    She’d whetted his appetite. Great. He said, a brow arched, “Like what, Ms. Powell?”
    â€œWhy feta cheese and glazed pecans taste so delicious in a spinach salad.”
    â€œI suppose you went into all sorts of folklore, nutrition information, stuff like that?”
    â€œThat’s right. For example, with the feta, pecans, and spinach, it all has to do with a chemical reaction that zings the taste buds.”
    Bernie Bradstreet looked too interested. She drew back, lowered her eyes to the napkin Tyler had tossed beside his plate.
    Tyler said, “Dessert, Becca?”
    She said, grinning up at Mr. Bradstreet, “Yep, that’s what I am, dessert for a newspaper. I’m low on a priority list, very low.”
    â€œNo,” Tyler said. “I mean real dessert. Coffee and dessert for you, Bernie?”
    Bernie couldn’t stay. His wife was at the far table with one of their grandkids. “They make special hot dogs for kids here,” he said; then, “Why don’t you drop by with some of the articles you’ve written, Ms. Powell? Actually, bring me the feta cheese article.”
    â€œI didn’t bring any of them with me, sir, sorry.”
    Tyler gave her a look but didn’t say anything. But his eyes had widened just a bit. He’d finally realized that this was the last thing she needed. Good, she thought, she was out of it. But no, he ruminated awhile, looking at her, then said, “All right, write me up one—whatever topic you like—not over five hundred words, and we’ll see.”
    She nodded, wishing the guy was more hard-nosed. She watched him walk back to his table, stopping at three more tables on the way. She looked at Tyler and raised her hand to stop him. “No, I can’t work for him. I don’t have any ID I can use. I doubt he’d want to pay me in cash.”
    He said, “I didn’t think of that. I finally realized that the more he saw you, he might put you together with the Rebecca on TV.”
    â€œIt’s okay. I’ll write up an article or two and give them to him, tell him to see how the readers like them, then we can talk. He shouldn’t get suspicious then. I don’t need the money. I’m not going to starve. It’s just that I do need something to keep my mind busy.”
    â€œAre you any good with computers?”
    â€œI guess I’m what you’d call a functional genius, but a technological moron.”
    â€œToo bad. Since I’m a small-time consultant, I don’t need any frills, either.”
    The night was clear and warm, with a slight breeze off the Atlantic. The stars were brilliant overhead. Becca stood by Tyler’s Jeep, staring up at the sky. “Nothing like this in New York City. I could get used to this real fast, Tyler. Too bad you can barely hear the ocean from here. The briny smell is fainter, too.”
    â€œYeah, I found I missed it so much I had to move back, and so I did a couple of years after I finished my master’s degree. But you know, more and more young people leave and stay gone. I wonder if Riptide will still be here in another twenty years or so.”
    â€œThere are lots of tourists to boost the economy, aren’t there?”
    â€œYes, but the entire flavor of the town has changed over the past twenty, thirty years. I guess that’s progress, huh?” He paused a moment, staring up at the Milky Way. “After Ann went away, I thought I wanted to leave Riptide and never come back—you know, all the memories—but I realized that all of Sam’s friends are here, all the people who knew Ann are here, and memories aren’t bad. I can work anywhere, and so I stayed. I haven’t regretted it. I’m glad you’re here, Becca. Things will work out, you’ll see. The only thing is winter.