The Tennessee Youngster

Chapter Twelve

 Job Interview

The Davidson's made their way into the outskirts of Camden. The rain tapered off and the clouds parted, leaving a nice blue sky. Strange how the rain came in like a lion and left so fast. Nick, however, remained calm in the back seat not saying a word, just a little smirk on his face. He would soon see his stepfather in a whole heap of trouble once his mother discovered the broken china. Stephen could see Nick's smirk from the rearview mirror reflecting off the window. Whether or not Nick kept his mouth shut, Stephen would deny the china box falling out of the back trailer and him to be the blame.

It was a new start for the family and hoping bygones stay bygones. Time would tell, but if Nick didn't keep quiet, he knew somehow both of them would end up butting heads and that would make Debra uneasy. This trip across country was to be a new start and Camden Tennessee seemed to be the perfect answer when Stephen got a letter asking him to come down and manage its local newspaper, The Camden Chronicle, but to locals, it still was referred to 'Ole Reliable' founded by two bothers in the 1800s.

Stephen had answered several newspaper ads across the country for newspaper manager jobs but had no letters returned. While working at the Boston Globe as a mere letter-pushing boy from the mailroom, his supervisor stopped by and approached him.

"You know Harley (Stephen's nickname given to him by his supervisor), I overheard from upstairs the other day a small town in Tennessee is looking for a manager near a place called Bucksnort."

"Bucksnort? What kind of place is that?"

"Well, sounds like a hunting town, but it's the town next to it called Camden. You interested?"

"I might be."

"Might be? Aren't you always saying you believed you were meant for something bigger?"

"Yes."

"Always waving around how you got a degree in Journalism and wasting away here down on the mailroom?"

"Yes, well, I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes you did Harley, but that's OK. You have dreams and you should follow them or you end up like me. An old washed up drunk reporter."

"I had no idea, Mr. Williams."

"It don't bother me much anymore. Besides I got a nice cushy job here at the Globe managing guys like you. I tell you what, if you are serious, drop by my office later tomorrow and give me your resume. I know a guy upstairs, and well, he owes me a favor. I'll see what I can do, but don't hold your breath."

"Why thank you, Mr. Williams. I not sure how I can repay you."

"Now don't thank me yet, but you want to know how you can repay me?"

"Yes sir, how can I do that?"

"Stop lollygagging and get to work. All this dreaming and what not isn't going to get those letters and packaged delivered." Mr. Williams said to Stephen before turning around and walking away.

"Oh, one more thing Harley."

"Yes, sir."

"Boy when you say sir, I think my daddy is standing behind me and I'm about to get a whooping. (Chuckling) From now on just call me by my first name, Shelly."

Stephen smiled back at him saying, "Thank you, Shelly," and watched him walk away. He had never heard of a man before with a woman's name, but again he had never been on a first name basis with anyone of management stature, except old Deacon who worked down in the mailroom with him. Well not really working, as it seemed Deacon slept must of the time, probably because he looked like he was a hundred years old.