A husband.
Her mind stumbled over the word. There’d only ever been one man she could imagine as her husband, and that was Charles. Even though Steffie knew it was unwise, she’d started dreaming again. She found herself fantasizing what her life would be like if she was married…to Charles. She wanted to blame her sisters for putting such thoughts in her head, but she couldn’t. Those dreams and fantasies had been there for years. The problem was that she couldn’t suppress them anymore.
An hour later, at the same moment as Steffie and Valerie were leaving the flower shop, Charles happened to step out of the Clarion office.
Steffie instinctively looked across the street, where he was walking with Wendy, deep in conversation. Something must have told him she was there because he glanced in her direction. He grinned warmly.
Steffie relaxed and waved. He returned the gesture, then spoke to Wendy before jogging across the street to join Steffie and her sister.
“Hello,” he said, but his eyes lingered on Steffie. He barely seemed to notice Valerie’s presence.
“Hi.” It was ridiculous to feel so shy with him. “I’d have stopped in to say hello, but I knew you’d be busy.”
“I’m never too busy for you.” His eyes were affectionate and welcoming.
“See,” Valerie hissed close to Steffie’s ear. Then, more loudly, “I’ve got a couple of errands to run, if you two would like a chance to talk.”
Charles checked his watch. “Come back to the office with me?”
“Sure.” If he’d suggested they stand on their heads in the middle of Main Street, Steffie would have willingly agreed.
Valerie cast a quick glance at the clock tower. “How about if I meet you back at the car in—”
“Half an hour,” Charles supplied, reaching for Steffie’s hand. “There’s something I’d like to show you,” he told her.
“Fine, I’ll see you then, Steff,” Valerie said cheerfully. She set off at a brisk walk, without looking back.
Their fingers entwined, Charles led Steffie across the street to the newspaper office. “I was going to save this for later, but now’s as good a time as any.” He ushered her in and guided her down the center aisle, past the obviously busy staff, to his desk.
Steffie wasn’t sure what to expect, but a mock-up of the Clarion’s second page wasn’t it. As far as she could see, it was the same as any other inside page she’d read over the years.
“Clearly I’m missing something,” she said after a moment. “Is the type different?”
“Nope, we’ve used the same fonts as always.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.
“How about a hint?” she asked, a bit puzzled.
“I might suggest you read the masthead,” he said next, his dark eyes gleaming.
“The masthead,” she repeated as she scanned the listings of the newspaper’s personnel and the duties they performed.
“All right, I will. Charles Tomaselli, editor and publisher. Roger Simons—”
“Stop right there,” he said, holding up his hand.
“Publisher,” she said again. “That’s new. What exactly does it mean?”
His smile could have lit up a Christmas tree. “It means, my beautiful Stephanie, that I now own the Orchard Valley Clarion.”
“Charles, that’s wonderful!” She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him, but it was difficult.
“My dream’s got a mortgage attached,” he told her wryly. “A lot of folks think I’m an idiot to risk so much of my future on a medium that’s said to be dying. Newspapers are folding all over the country.”
“The Clarion won’t.”
“Not if I can help it.”
Her heart seemed to spill over with joy. She knew how much Charles loved his work, how committed he was to the community. “I’m so excited about this.”
“Me, too,” he said, his smile boyishly proud. “I’d say this calls for a celebration, wouldn’t you?”
“Most definitely.”
“Dinner?”
She nodded eagerly and they set the date for Thursday evening, deciding on a restaurant that overlooked the Columbia River Gorge, about an hour’s drive north.
Steffie felt as if her feet didn’t touch the pavement as she hurried across the street thirty minutes later to meet her sister. Never, in all the time she’d known Charles, had she seen him happier. And she was happy with him, and for him. That was what loving someone meant. It was a truth she hadn’t really understood before, not until today. This intense new feeling had taught her that real love wasn’t prideful or selfish. Real love meant sharing the happiness—and the sorrows—of the person you loved. Yes, she understood that now. She realized that her past obsession with Charles had focused more on her own desires than on his. Her love had matured.
Charles had wakened within her emotions she hadn’t known it was possible to experience. Emotions—and sensations. When she was with him, especially when he kissed her, she felt vibrant and alive.
“You look like you’re about to cry, you’re so happy,” Valerie said when Steffie joined her in the car. “I don’t suppose Charles popped the question.”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “But he asked me to dinner to help him celebrate. Guess what? Charles is the new owner of the Clarion.”