Today's Reading
"But it looks different from this angle," I shot back, offering him a grin and an apologetic shrug before extracting myself from my seat belt. "Don't want my faithful followers to miss out on the exquisite beauty of the Highlands now, do we?"
I heard Archie's low chuckle brew beneath Dave's response on the phone: "Exactly."
Archie nodded and tapped his derby. "Dinnae fash yeself." His smile was edged with mischief. "I got all day as long as you got the money." He patted his digital meter on the dash and offered an impish wink.
I couldn't help but laugh. If the rest of the Scots oozed with such welcome, spending three weeks here was sure to be a blast. And why shouldn't Archie grin? My visceral need to take photos every five minutes earned him a pretty full purse!
"You're great at getting new followers, and I'm not contesting that," Dave continued as I slipped out of the cute, little blue Volkswagen into the breezy July air. You're one of the best travel writers I have—probably the best at bringing in new readers for the magazine, both online and in print."
"And why would you want to go messing with that success, Dave?" I switched the phone to speaker and tucked it into the top of my jeans so my hands were free to take photos, but truly, the pictures couldn't do this landscape justice. The stark contrast between the foreboding brownish mountains in the distance with the fog-covered, lush emerald hills in the foreground, all topped by molten gold as sunshine squeezed through some remnant clouds? Breathtaking. Otherworldly. My travel blog readers—not to mention the magazine audience—were going to be ecstatic.
I flinched as the teeniest bit of longing hit me square in the chest out of nowhere. With a deep breath, I rubbed my fingers into the spot. Grief often came out of nowhere.
Grandpa and Gran would have loved to see this.
I shook away the unexpected pull to linger in the feelings—maybe even in the view—and redirected my squirrelly brain.
I didn't linger places.
Never for very long.
Traveling is what I did. Traveling and story catching. Then I brought those adventures to life through words for others to experience. And I sometimes engaged in humorous misadventures along the way, which only increased ratings and readers.
These were only a few of the many reasons why Dave shouldn't distract me with an editorial position.
Editor?
The word hinged in my brain with cautious—and maybe a little unwanted—curiosity. Like trying food from a jungle tribe in the Amazon. Fifty percent of the time it was going to be tasty. One hundred percent of the time you didn't want to know what it was made of. But something about the idea of becoming an editor stirred a tiny bit of nervousness in my stomach.
"Because," came his voice from the phone, "when you see someone with talent in the right places, you want to put them where they'll make the greatest impact. If you were an editor, you'd improve half a dozen of our other writers within the first six months just because of your skills. That would increase our quality output exponentially."
I lowered my camera and sighed, loud enough for him to hear.
"This is your boss speaking, Katie." His tone deepened a little to prove his point. "With Carla retiring next month, I need someone with the skill set to take her place as associate editor for World on a Page. You're my top choice. I don't ever plan to ask you to stop traveling, but editing would give you the chance to grow as a writer and a professional. Give you some structure and options. Maybe even allow you to put down some roots."
Roots? I had roots. Sort of. Back home in Waynesville, North Carolina. In fact, I'd inherited an entire family farm (which I barely saw) from my grandparents—a place that held some of my favorite childhood memories. Those two amazing people had offered a much-needed sanctuary from my childhood home life with a passive-absent dad and a super society-conscious mother. And expectations no one, except she, ever met.
"Whoa there, Dave." I shook my head and took another photo. "I just turned twenty-eight. I don't think I've met my expiration date just yet."
...
