The Unraveling of Violeta Bell

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I learned long ago not to give my story ideas to the editors. They grin at you like a constipated duck. They quack, “Ooooh, what a great idea!” Then they never assign anyone to write it. And if by some miracle they do, the reporter gets the story wrong. So I stay in the morgue and do my job, and hope the editors stay in the newsroom and try like the dickens to do theirs.

But there I was, scooting toward Nancy Peale’s desk just as fast as my full mug of Darjeeling tea would let me go. But, good gravy, I couldn’t help myself. The idea was just too good.

Nancy has been the features editor since the Jurassic Age, which means she’s been at The Hannawa Herald-Union almost as long as me. So we’ve had our share of run-ins. “Sorry to bother you, Nancy,” I said with as much cheeriness as I could muster on a Monday morning, “but I just had to pass along something I saw.”

She looked up from her pecan roll. Gave me that duck look. “You know we’re always looking for good stories, Maddy.”

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