Scoop (2 page)

Mack glanced at Mr. Stewart and then said, “I’ll tell you on the way.”

Their abrupt departure bewildered Mr. Stewart, who trailed behind them as they made their way to the car. “What’s going on? What’s the meeting about? Who’s running this meeting?” His questions continued all the way to the car, where Mack opened the door for Hayden, who quickly climbed in.

“Mackenzie,” Mr. Stewart said sternly, “I am one of your company’s best clients. I demand to know what’s going on. First of all, were your parents murdered?”

Hayden watched as Mack kept an even expression. “Why would you think they were murdered?”

“The rumor is they went to Las Vegas for their vacation, and we all know what kind of city that is.”

Mack sighed, looking exhausted. “Mr. Stewart, they were not murdered. It was just an unfortunate incident.”

“Incident? Accident? What?”

Mack glanced at Hayden. She looked desperate for relief, and Hayden smiled a little, hoping to assure her.

“Well?” Mr. Stewart asked.

“Look, we don’t really understand it ourselves,” Mack finally said, “but it boils down to an overly ambitious serenading guitar player, a hundred-foot extension cord, and a rack of mood lighting.” Mack shook Mr. Stewarts hand while his jaw dropped a little. “We’ll talk soon.”

A lump formed in Hayden’s throat. Her father used to say that all the time.
“Well talk soon.”

Hayden shut the passenger door while Mack went to the driver’s side. Unfortunately, Hayden’s window was rolled down and the next thing she knew, that mole stared her down.

“What’s this meeting about? The business? What’s going to happen?”

As Mack pulled the car away from the curb, Hayden said, “Mr. Stewart, please don’t worry. It’s our family’s business, and we’re still a family. I can assure you, nothing is going to happen to the business.”

“The family business is no more.”

All the Hazard siblings sat clustered in their parents’ living room, talking among themselves, wondering why their eldest brother had called the meeting, when Mitch made the pronouncement. Claire stood beside
Mitch, and by the expression on her face, it was clear that Mitch had planned to say something else.

Mitch cleared his throat and loosened his tie, but he couldn’t look at any of them, which struck Hayden as very odd, since Mitch was by far the most confident Hazard sibling.

Finally, he gathered himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to begin like that. There’s more to say. I haven’t even called the meeting to order,” Mitch said, a tight grin stretching across his startled expression.

Their father had always started the day with prayer, and then a formal call to begin the meeting. Hayden once asked her mother why he did that, since it seemed silly to her. Her mother said it helped distinguish the family from the business.

“But the family is the business and the business is the family,” Hayden exclaimed.

Her mother replied, “There must be a distinction.” Hayden had never really understood that statement. And now she was not understanding what Mitch was trying to say.

He attempted to call the meeting to order when Mack popped up from her chair. She was never any good at raising her hand like they were supposed to.

“What are you talking about?” Mack asked.

Mitch held up his hands. “Let me try this again. Some of you are too young to remember, but Mom and Dad started the family business to put food on the table. The two of them had both lost their jobs, and the business made money but allowed Mom to stay home and school us.”

Cassie’s hand shot into the air, but she didn’t bother to wait to be called on. “What do you
mean
the family business is no more? I happen to know that the business is doing just fine!”

“If you’ll let me explain,” Mitch looked sad and exhausted. He glanced at Claire and then said, “I have other dreams. Bigger
dreams…and you all should too. I love our business. I love our family, but I don’t want to be a clown for the rest of my life.”

Hayden squeezed Mack’s hand until Mack’s knuckles popped, causing Holt and Avery to glance over with large round eyes. Mitch lowered his voice and came closer to the rest of them. “This world is bigger than our little slice of the universe. There’s so much more to see and do. Mom and Dad loved us, and that’s why they sheltered us. But everything they’ve taught us has equipped us to go out into the world. We have everything we need to survive, and not only survive, but thrive.”

“What are you saying?” Everyone turned to stare at Hank. Nobody could believe he’d spoken. Most of the time in family meetings, he fashioned artwork from foam cups. Now, apparently, he spoke for them all.

“I’ve sold the company.”

Complete silence fell, and then Cassie squeaked, “You sold
us?”
Everyone’s eyes shifted from Cassie to Mitch, except Cassie’s eyes, which shifted from Mitch to a nearby mirror, where she blotted away the mascara she wasn’t supposed to be wearing. Mitch smiled a little. “I sold ownership. We’re incorporated, which means we have clients, supplies, equipment, venues.”

Nobody could contain themselves, and Hayden began to cry. She clutched Mack’s arm, while Mack just looked mad.

Mitch tried to settle everyone down.

“Please, just listen. I know this is a shock, but I also know, deep down inside, that we’re not supposed to be clowns for the rest of our lives. Mom and Dad are gone, and now it’s time for us to go out into the world and make something of ourselves.”

“How could you do this to us?” Cassie wailed.

“Because I know all of you,” Mitch said, his soothing confidence returning. He made eye contact with each of them. “I know what you’re made of, what you’re capable of. Each one of you has an extraordinary chance to make your life count. What are you going to do with it?”

The room grew quiet again as he paused. Then Mitch continued. “The company sold to Clowns Inc. for a lot of money, and it will be divided equally among all of us. Believe it or not, with the life insurance and Mom and Dad’s savings, there’s enough for each of you to go to college, if you wish, plus have enough money left over to start a new life.”

Hayden’s voice trembled. “Without each other?”

“We’ll always have each other. Nothing will change that. No matter how far apart we are, we’ll always have each other. It’s going to be a magnificent journey for each of you. You’re going to discover things about yourself you never knew, things about the world you never knew. You’re going to be a light in this world.”

He beckoned to Claire, the only other person in the room who looked excited about the prospect of magnificent journeys. “There’s one more thing you should know,” Mitch said, wrapping an arm around Claire’s shoulder. “You all are going to be aunts and uncles!”

Ordinarily, that kind of thing would’ve caused great applause among the Hazard family. But nobody could clap. Or even smile. It was just another reminder of how sad and tragic their parents’ death was. They would never get to see their grandchildren. And the business they’d built from the ground up was now gone.

Mitch said, “Brothers. Sisters. Trust me. It’ll all be okay. It’s a new chapter in your life, but it’s not the end of the world.”

Hayden stood, walked out of the house and into the backyard. How could Mitch have done this? How? This was all she knew! She’d been born in the farmhouse, raised there, schooled there. Her only friends were her siblings. The farthest she’d ever been from home was on trips to county fairs with their clown act. Where would she live? How could she possibly know what she was supposed to do with her life? Her life was her family.

She stood against the tree she’d once climbed as a child and cried into her hands. She’d grieved for her parents, but now she grieved over a life that was no longer there. It wasn’t possible! No other occupation suited her.

A hand pressed against her back. She turned to find Mack, who embraced her and let her cry for a long time. Mack led her to a nearby bench and sat her down.

“I hate Mitch right now,” Hayden said, gasping as the words flowed out of her mouth. Her parents had always taught her not to hate anyone.

Mack nodded, but then she said, “You know, I’ve always wanted to be a police officer.”

Hayden blinked through her tears. “You have?”

Mack shrugged. “It was just a dream, though, you know? I never thought I’d actually have a chance to do it.”

“You never told me that.”

“I know. I hid it down deep. I thought it was silly.”

Hayden smiled through her tears. “Well, you did play eight different law-enforcement characters.”

Mack hugged her. “Hayden, Mitch is right. Mom and Dad built this company to put food on the table. And then it grew into this big thing that we all became involved in. But when I was five, Dad and I were lying in the backyard under the stars one night, and he asked me if I could do anything in the world, what would it be?”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t remember,” she laughed, “but I do remember him telling me that whatever I put my mind to, I could do. At five, Dad had big dreams for me.” She sighed. “I think Mom and Dad saw an ugly world out there, and after they both lost their jobs, they were determined to protect us from it.”

Hayden stared into the evening sky, the tiny stars twinkling above. “I never had any dreams. I never thought I’d do anything except what I was doing.” She looked down. “And truthfully, I didn’t do it all that well.”

“Hayden, it’s not your fault you were coulrophobic. Besides, you were great at the administrative stuff. The business really needed that. Mom couldn’t handle it by herself anymore.”

Hayden sighed. In the last year, since she’d finally admitted she was
deathly afraid of clowns, she’d felt so guilty, but thankful to be included.

Mack squeezed her hand. “You’ll find your purpose. I guarantee it. God won’t let you down.”

With a collective sigh, they both leaned back into the bench and took in the expansive night sky that could only be seen from outside the city limits. Mack chuckled. “So you want to know what Mitch is going to do?”

“He told you?”

“He told us after you left the room. He’s working for a company called Ditch Witch.”

“Ditch Witch? That sounds weird. Mitch at Ditch Witch.”

“He’ll be one of their managers.”

Hayden sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “So that’s the secret to finding your life purpose. It has to rhyme with your first name.” She leaned her head on Mack’s shoulder. “This family is safe. I don’t want to leave it.”

Mack stroked her hair. “I know. It’s scary to think about. If we could all have Mitch’s confidence, right?”

“What in the world am I going to do out there, Mack? What kind of difference can I make?”

“Mitch is right. Mom and Dad equipped us. We just have to remember what we were taught, and we’ll be just fine.”

Hayden didn’t know the world beyond children’s birthday parties and company picnics. She’d seen only glimpses, and that had been fine with her.

Mack laughed. “Remember what Dad used to say any time we complained about change? ‘Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape.”’

Five years later

H
ugo Talley had told his doctor that he was fairly sure the antianxiety medication he was on was not working anymore. “My body has gotten used to it,” he complained. The doctor, a woman who looked better suited for the fashion industry, explained that was not possible. When Hugo replied, “Well, it’s not working,” the doctor had the audacity to suggest that the stress in his life had increased.

“I’m in the news business.” Hugo wanted to shout it, but he didn’t. That was how he knew the Blue Pill wasn’t working well anymore. He was a few insults away from screaming at a woman half his age. “If people would stop drinking and driving, stealing cars, abusing their spouses, and being, in general, regular idiots, I wouldn’t have to take this at all.”

The doctor sent him home with orders to get his stress under control.

Now, sitting at his desk, Hugo popped the pill in his mouth and waited. And waited. Nothing. No difference. He’d seen the commercials on television. Being in the television business himself, he knew about all the smoke and mirrors. He’d still fallen prey to idea that he, too, could be smiling and bike riding, and holding the hand of a gray-haired woman with the face of a thirty-year-old, enjoying life with no sexual side effects and only a slight risk of a seizure, stroke, or death. His job was more likely to kill him than this little Blue Pill.

“Come on, kick in,” he muttered. He looked at the shiny brass name plate on his desk—facing him, not the door. It read “Hugo Talley, Executive Producer.”
Executive.
What he wouldn’t give to be a good, old-fashioned, everyday news producer again. But with the pay he had now.

He wondered why he had an office at all. It was a square box with a fake wooden door and an all-glass wall that served no purpose at all. The former executive producer, who’d died of a heart attack last January, thought a glass wall was a good idea so he could keep an eye on everything. But in reality, it served only to keep a hundred pairs of eyes on him.