He drove over to the newspaper’s office, determined to get to the bottom of it. He also intended to do what he should have done when he’d first seen the paper, demand that a retraction of that bit about Samantha being a stripper. Maybe that was her fight if she wanted to pursue it, but as Greg had reminded him, he had a history with Ken Jones and he intended to use his clout to force the issue.
Ken looked up when Ethan crossed the newsroom, removed his glasses and stood up. “I was expecting a visit from you a lot sooner,” he admitted, his expression somber and maybe just the slightest bit guilt-ridden. “Look, I know that picture was probably upsetting, but you and Boone are news around here. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.”
“Sure, if you’re more worried about selling papers than destroying reputations,” Ethan countered. “Is that it, Ken? Is this little rag of yours in financial trouble?”
Ken blinked at the attack and put his glasses back on. Ethan wondered if the little weasel subscribed to the idea that no one would hit a man wearing glasses.
“It was news,” Ken repeated, though he sounded a little more nervous than he had.
“And describing Samantha as a stripper? Where’d that idea come from? You know it’s not true.”
“Yeah,” he said, wincing. “I got an earful about that from Cora Jane and from my mother.”
Ethan allowed himself a smile. “Good for them. I should have been here sooner to add my two cents. You do know it probably rises to the level of libel if Samantha wants to pursue it?”
“So I’ve heard from my lawyer, who’s no happier about it than you are.”
“Where’d you get the idea that she was a stripper in the first place?”
“The photographer,” he admitted.
“Who is? I noticed there was no credit line under the photo.”
Ken winced. “The picture came to me via email with no request for credit or payment. Since cameras don’t lie, I printed it.”
“But people who send anonymous emails do lie, and they do leave a trail. You’re not stupid, Ken. You were the biggest computer geek in our class. And somewhere buried deep inside are the remains of a real journalist. Where’d the picture come from? I’m sure you know.”
Ken hesitated, probably trying on several arguments about confidentiality for size. Then he caved. “Jodie Farmer,” he admitted. “And I know she has an axe to grind against the Castles, or against Emily, anyway. I should have used better judgment, okay? No question about it.”
“Then I imagine you won’t have a bit of trouble using all that temporarily forgotten integrity to correct the situation,” Ethan said, his tone mild but unyielding.
“I don’t know what good it would do now.”
Ethan regarded him incredulously. “You describe someone as a stripper, which you know could hurt her reputation, and you don’t see why it’s necessary to fix that? Let me help you. If clearing your conscience and the record aren’t good enough reasons, how about this? I will encourage Samantha to sue you for every penny she can get from this sleazy rag of yours and from you personally for knowing you made a mistake and not fixing it in the next edition. How’s that for motivation?”
Ken heaved a sigh. “Okay, you’re ticked off. I get that, Ethan. Want to tell me what your stake is in this? Are the rumors true? Are the two of you a hot item?”
“My relationship with Samantha is none of your concern. This is about righting a wrong.” He held the other man’s gaze. “On the front page in type big enough that the world can see it from across the street, the same way they could spot that photo.”
“Come on, now,” Ken protested.
“Do it,” Ethan repeated. “Or I will see that Samantha nails your sorry hide.”
He felt a thousand percent better when he walked away, but he wondered if he’d done enough to make things right. Or was this one of those situations he’d be regretting for a lifetime, berating himself for doing too little too late?
23
Samantha was walking through the gutted building that would eventually become a small theater seating a few hundred patrons when Gabi came running in, waving the local weekly. Samantha regarded her warily.
“Not again,” she muttered. “What did they print this time?”
“Wait till you see,” her sister gloated. “It’s an apology, on the front page, no less.”
Samantha stared at the large front-page display in shock. “What on earth brought this on? Retractions usually appear in teeny-tiny type buried somewhere inside the paper.”
“According to the editor, the fact that there was no evidence that you were or ever had been a stripper was brought to his attention by none other than local hero Ethan Cole!”
“What?” Samantha said incredulously. “Let me see that.”
Gabi held the paper away from her. “Wait, it gets even better. He also conceded that the initial report was given to him by someone who might have had an axe to grind against the Castle family.”
“Who on earth?” Samantha asked.
“Jodie Farmer, that’s who,” Gabi said. She jabbed a finger at the front page. “It says that right here. Boone is going to have a conniption.”
Samantha sank down on a convenient sawhorse. “Oh, brother! I never saw that coming.”
“Well, apparently Ethan forced the information out of the editor, some guy named Ken Jones. Wade was so indignant when he saw this he charged over to the paper himself and had a little come-to-Jesus chat with Ken. I guess Ken spilled his guts about the way Ethan stormed into the office, demanded answers, threatened lawsuits and who knows what else. Wade added his two cents. It’ll be a long, long time before this Ken Jones takes on any of the Castles
