said everything that you came to say?"
He gave the paper another loud shake. "I want to knoW
where you get off writing this kind of stuff? Just who do you
think you are anyway?"
"Who do you think you are, Greg Snider?" She stood
now, her desk safely between them. "First you act like you're
some flarning environmentalist who's totally against all
forms of growth and development, then you and Rick prac-
tically steal Arnold Westerly's farm, and now you want to
turn it into some sort of shoddy development for whatever
rich fools you can lure in here who'd be crazy enough to buy
into such a thing-"
"And now I suppose you think you're going to stop us with
all of your overblown environmental concerns!" He laughed
cynically. "Well, let me set you straight. Nobody in Byron
County gives a flying fig about your ridiculous wetland issues-
I already talked to the boys down at the county and they think
what we're doing is just great, thank you very much!"
"So, what exactly is your problem then?"
108Melody Carlson
"My problem is a certain Miss-Know-It-All editor who
can't keep her nose Out of other people's business. And I've
had more than enough of your biased press coverage on TS
Development."
She forced a saccharine smile to her lips as she spoke to
him in what she knew was a patronizing tone. "But, unfor-
tunately for you, we haven't had enough yet, Greg. And our
readers still find this whole thing very fascinating. It's just so
interesting how someone so opposed to development less
than six months ago is now in the process of trying to develop
the biggest chunk of property in Pine Mountain. And it's so
interesting the way you guys swindled an old man-"
"Yeah!" he snapped. "And look where that story got
you! The old guy dropped deader than a doornail just as
soon as he read your stupid article. Doesn't that tell you any-
thing, Maggie Carpenter? How many other writers can
boast that their reporting actually kills people? Maybe you
should have a warning label on the front of your paper.
'Reading the Pine Cone could be hazardous to your health!'
Or maybe I should get the sheriff in here and see if he can't
charge you for murder~r at the minimum, manslaughter."
A wave of sadness washed over her as she remembered
the vivid image of poor Mr. Westerly slumped over his news-
paper. She was instantly at a loss for any witty comeback or
sharp retaliation. Why had she even lowered herself to
Greg's level in the first place? To engage verbally with Greg
Snider was almost always a lose-lose situation. She held her
chin up and looked him squarely in the eye, determined to
deny him the pleasure of witnessing the deep hurt he'd just
inflicted upon her.
He tossed the newspaper to the floor, then leaned forward,