of their pets with Santa—or that anyone would expect a photo with all nine dachshund puppies looking directly at the camera—but the kiss helped her believe anything might be possible.
So when Charlie Short called and asked to meet at her home after work, she kept the sinking feeling in her stomach suspended with an optimistic smile.
One look at Charlie’s face confirmed her worst fear, but she invited him in and offered him a glass of tea before he broke the bad news.
“I’m sorry, Kyndal. Yours was the name I turned in as my choice, but the Tourism Bureau chose someone else.”
“I see.” But she didn’t. Inside, she was a roiling mass of hurt, struggling to get air back into her lungs, trying to wrap her head around this surreal situation. She was his first choice, so he thought she was the best. But being best wasn’t good enough? What did it take?
“…got wrestled out of my hands when politics got involved,” Charlie was saying when she focused back in.
“Politics?”
“Yeah. Senator Donovan called in a favor. Just goes to prove that old saying ‘It’s not what you know but who you know’ is true, I suppose.”
And I suppose that answers my question. “Unfortunately for me,” Kyndal said, not even trying to keep the anger out of her voice, “I don’t know anybody.”
Charlie leaned back and propped his arm on the back of the couch. “Now, that’s where you got it wrong, Kyndal. You know me—” he took a sip of tea and smacked his lips dramatically “—and I’ve got contacts. Plenty of ’em.” He pulled a business card from his coat pocket and handed it to her.
Kyndal read it, then looked back at him, confused. “A literary agent?”
“Guy and I went to high school together. He moved to New York and has done well…really well. He represents some big-name authors.”
“Why would he need a photographer?”
“He doesn’t. But I read the newspaper article about you and your ordeal, and I’ve seen your work. You have a great deal of talent. I think you need to consider writing a book about your experience and include your photos in it.”
“I—I couldn’t do that.” Kyndal’s throat constricted. Her best shots were of the ancient room, and she’d decided never to show those publicly. Although, if she had, the job probably would’ve been hers in spite of Senator Donovan. “I don’t think I’m ready to relive that experience yet.” She held the card out to Charlie, but he shook his head.
“Keep the card. You might decide to write the book someday.”
She laid the card on the coffee table and forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Okay, thanks.”
Charlie fished around in his pocket and brought out several more cards. “Don’t know how desperate you are now for a job…”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Pretty desperate.” You can’t even imagine.
He handed her another card. This one was from Dill Thurber, a hospital administrator. “Dill’s in St. Louis at one of the big hospitals. He needs a pathology photographer. I mean, like yesterday. It’s good work. Pays well. Has benefits.”
Kyndal perked up. “You had me at ‘pays well.’ What’s involved in being a pathology photographer?”
“Well, it wouldn’t all just be pathology. He mentioned some of the job would include PR and marketing stuff—shots of new instruments, pictures of newborns…”
“That sounds fun.”
“But the bulk of the work would be for pathology reports. Measuring body parts and organs that’ve been removed. Taking shots of them. Cataloging. Photographing autopsies. Not an easy job, but interesting if you’ve got the stomach for it.”
Kyndal wasn’t sure she did. Hers was turning over right then. “Oh, I don’t know, Charlie.” Her enthusiasm had started to wane.
“Well, at least call him and talk to him about it, will you? I’ve already told him about you, and he’s interested. Said you could start as soon as you want.” He shuffled the cards and looked at another. “Photographer for a cruise line?”
Cruising for a living? Beaches? “Where?”
“Alaska.”
Kyndal shivered. “Not for me, but thanks.”
He flipped another card to the top of his pile. “Theme park? Taking shots of the tourists as they come down the water ride?”
How low are you willing to stoop? Kyndal shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Well—” Charlie slapped his hands to his knees and pushed to his feet “—that’s all I got right now.”
Kyndal walked him to the door. “Thanks, Charlie.” She didn’t want to rush him out, but the devastating news had finally sunk in, and her emotions were rocketing toward the surface.