“What’s going on?” Tully asked, tossing her purse on Kate’s neat-as-a-pin desk.

Mutt looked up. “There’s a protest going on. It’s our story.”

“Where’s Carol?”

“In the hospital. Labor.”

This was Tully’s chance. She went straight into Johnny’s office, without even bothering to knock. “Let me go on air. I know you think I’m not ready, but I am. And who else is there?”

He hung up the phone and looked at her. “I already told the station you’d do the report. That’s what all the yelling was about.” He came around the desk and moved toward her. “Don’t let me down, Tully.”

Tully knew it was unprofessional, but she couldn’t help herself: she hugged him. “You’re the best. I’ll make you proud. You’ll see.”

She was halfway to the door when he cleared his throat and said her name. She stopped, turned.

“Don’t you want to read the background stuff? Or do you want to go in blind?”

Tully felt her cheeks heat up. “Whoops. I’ll read it.”

He handed her a sheath of slippery fax paper. “It’s about some housewife in Yelm who channels ghosts. J. Z. Knight.”

Tully frowned.

“Is that a problem?”

“No. I just . . . know someone who lives out there. That’s all.”

“Well, there won’t be time for visiting friends. Now go. I want you back by two to edit.”

Without Mutt and Tully, the office was quiet. It was only the second time all summer that Kate had been alone in the office with Johnny. A little unnerved by the silence—as well as by the sight of his open door and the knowledge that he was just on the other side of it—she tended to answer the phone too quickly and even sound a little breathless when she did it.

When Tully was here, there was the noise and commotion. She lived for TV news and no moment of it was beneath her contemplation. All day, every day, she badgered Johnny and Carol and Mutt with questions; she continually sought their collective advice on every topic.

Kate had lost track of the times she’d seen Mutt roll his eyes as Tully walked away from a conversation. Carol was even less accommodating; the lead reporter barely talked to Tully lately. Not that Tully seemed to care. What mattered to Tully was the news: first, last, and always.

Kate, on the other hand, cared about the people in the office more than she cared about the stories they followed. She had been befriended almost instantly by Carol, who often took her out to lunch to talk about her impending birth, and just as often called upon Kate to edit her copy or research stories. Mutt, too, had chosen Kate as his confidante. He spent long hours talking to her about his family problems and the woman who refused to marry him.