The Sky of Endless Blue

by Ava Miles

  “Always a pleasure, Arthur,” the man said to his back. Arthur was already hobbling across the room with his cane.

  Andy’s boy ran circles around him, evading Jill’s other girl, Mia. It was too bad the weather was so shitty, or they could push the kids outside to give them more space to play.

  Arthur met J.T. and Caroline in the middle of the Blaylocks’ large den. “You look like hell.”

  “Cynthia called me earlier,” J.T. said. “She didn’t much like your Op-Ed.”

  Like he hadn’t already heard that from the horse’s mouth, but he still didn’t want to upset the boy more.

  Caroline leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to find Moira and get a drink. J.T., what do you want?”

  “Is that bourbon?” he asked, gesturing to Arthur’s drink.

  “Yep. Just catch Mac’s eye and point to my drink. He’ll pour you one.”

  “I’ll go for the wine Jane brought,” Caroline said with forced cheerfulness. “I hear it’s from a new vineyard in the south of France.” Another strike against his theory about Jane.

  As she left, J.T. let out a breath. “She’s a trooper, but waking up hearing ‘Gold Digger’ this morning didn’t start us off on a great note.”

  “Cut into the cuddles, I imagine,” Arthur said. “Funny, I thought those love letters from your mom’s parents would give you more of a boost.”

  “Who told you about that?”

  “Trevor,” Arthur said, scanning the room for him and not seeing him. “He thinks you’re a certified romantic.”

  “He’s a dead man,” J.T. said. “And Caroline and I haven’t talked about the letters. It’s been a little tense, to be honest. We’re sticking to movies and other forms of entertainment to keep our minds off what’s going on.”

  Sounded like a good plan given the situation. “So what did Sin City say?” he asked, wondering if she’d called before or after she’d spoken to him.

  “She said she was impressed that I’d brought you into it,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “The rest of it was pretty much same-ol’, same-ol’.”

  “Honey-toned threats and the like?” Arthur asked before taking a healthy sip of his drink.

  “Yes,” J.T. said. “But you shouldn’t worry or anything. You’re a well-respected journalist.”

  He pressed on his cane and drew to his full height. Of course, he’d shrunk a few inches, but he still had bearing and that made a difference. “I know who the hell I am, boy. No need to tell me.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “She makes me…”

  “Crazy,” Arthur said, deciding it was really for the best the kid didn’t know his ex had called him. Or that he’d made an unproductive call to the boy’s estranged aunt. “Go get your bourbon.”

  J.T. put his hand on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you again. For the Op-Ed. For everything.”

  “Dammit, I want this museum here as much as you do,” he told him. “It’s not right what Dr. Slimeball and his minion trustees are doing. I’d write about it even if I didn’t know you.”

  His shoulders visibly relaxed. “Thank you.”

  “Pull yourself together, J.T. This is a party. Give my great-niece a smile.”

  “Right,” he said and then took off.

  Arthur made the rounds, sipping on his bourbon. Chef T told him he’d like to drop off some food for Arthur to sample, saying he wanted to make sure it was better than his competition. Arthur didn’t believe for a moment he was trying to outdo Brian and his restaurant, one everyone knew Arthur himself had financially backed. No, Chef T was trying to feed him. He decided to let him. What moron turned down five-star Meals on Wheels?

  He caught up with his great-nephew Matt and they talked local politics for a while. The new stoplight at the edge of town was causing a ruckus. Somehow people didn’t understand Dare Valley needed to change to meet the needs of its expanding population.

  He excused himself when he caught sight of Meredith and Tanner by the door. His great-grandson was rubbing his eyes.

  “Did the young man have a nap?” he asked when he reached them.

  Jared held out his arms to him immediately, which blew a blast of warmth into his heart. Oh, this new generation. Every time he looked at them he wondered how many years he’d have to watch them grow.

  “Let me take your bourbon, Arthur,” Tanner said.

  “Maybe you should sit down, Grandpa,” Meredith said, clucking like a mother hen as Arthur traded off his drink for the baby. “He weighs as much as a bowling ball.”

  “Your grandfather can handle him,” Tanner said.

  Arthur kissed the top of the boy’s head and leaned more heavily on his cane. His grandson did remind him of his old bowling days, but he wasn’t going to say anything. He held him for a few minutes, taking in everything that was good about a baby. That special smell. The trust they conveyed in merely allowing someone to hold them. The warmth from their little bodies.

  “Okay, I’m good,” he said. “We should find somewhere private to chat before you get pulled away.”

  Meredith nodded as Tanner took Jared from him. “I’ll see if Lucy might want to hold him,” she said.

  “You could parade through the center of the room with the boy and simply ask for volunteers,” Arthur suggested.

  Meredith shook her head, “Oh, Grandpa,” and took off.

  Tanner’s lips twitched. “She has grand notions of being a good mom.”

  “She is a good mom,” Arthur said. “I wasn’t implying otherwise.”

  Soon Meredith was back with Lucy, whom he hadn’t brought into the Newhouse series, as he was calling it. The paper’s budget didn’t usually allow for them to use a professional photographer of Lucy’s caliber, so she only did important photos for the paper. Oh, and that Calendar Girls calendar everyone in town had bought.

  Tanner led them to Rhett’s office in the back of the house, if you could call it such. Poker trophies lined the glass case at the back of the room, alongside pictures of Rhett wearing some of his most famous game-day outfits. Thank God the man had given up wearing fur. It wasn’t a good look on him if you asked Arthur.

  “All right, so Sin City called you,” Meredith said the minute the door closed. “The nerve! What did she say?”

  “What you might expect,” Arthur said. “She was as sweet as a debutante with an ice pick. Played to my vanity at first, noting how Newhouse senior usually loved my Op-Eds. Except not today, of course.”

  Tanner whistled. “So she brought Albert Newhouse’s name into it. From what J.T. and Trevor have said, she hasn’t gone there before.”

  “Yes,” Arthur said. “She said she thought we should be acquainted now. Apparently she called J.T. as well. Made a comment about being surprised he’d brought me into it. Like I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t know him.”

  Meredith made a face. “That bitch. She threatened you.”

  “Not surprising from what we know about her,” he said. “My biggest concern is you interviewing her, Tanner. I think you should have someone go with you. Someone junior. We can say it’s your protégée or something. I want a witness.”

  Tanner didn’t blink, but Meredith immediately narrowed her eyes.

  “Do you think she’s going to come on to Tanner?” she asked.

  “As a way to discredit him?” Arthur shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past her. We need to be on our toes from now on. We struck first. She’s given me every reason to believe she’ll strike back.”

  “Albert Newhouse could make a few comments about the issue, given his connections in business and politics,” Tanner said, “but would he? It’s not his fight, and he might look ridiculous.”

  Arthur expected Cynthia would know that. “If she asks her daddy to do something, I doubt it will be public. We’ll see. In the meantime, we document everything. I want a full transcript of your interview with her.”

  “Assuming she grants me one,” Tanner said. “I’m not sure she
’ll want to go on the record.”

  “True,” Arthur said. “Still, it gives her an opportunity to bash her ex-husband publically, and that’s what we want. Show with her own words how crazy she is.” It would be a fine line, but if anyone could write on it, it was Tanner.

  “Assuming she says anything,” Meredith said. “She’s like the trustees who changed their minds. They won’t say boo to J.T.’s face, but I can guarantee you they’re talking plenty behind his back.”

  Meredith’s article was going to be about the board of trustees—how some of them had changed their minds after approving the museum. “I don’t know who has the harder job in terms of getting someone to go on record.”

  Tanner laughed. “Perhaps we need a side bet, sweetheart.”

  Meredith waggled her brows at her husband.

  “Oh, get a room!” Arthur groaned. “Am I the only person around here not getting laid?”

  He heard them clear their throats before Tanner said, “We should get back to the party. I’m clear on my marching orders.”

  Of course, he could have just told them all of this tomorrow morning at the office, but they didn’t work like that. They were a team. Their trust meant the world to him, and Meredith would have been angry if he’d seen them socially and neglected to mention the call. Clara, however, was another matter. Her he would keep to himself.

  When they walked back down the hall, Trevor was lollygagging in the hallway, a tumbler of bourbon in his hand.

  “I’ll catch up to you,” Arthur told Meredith and Tanner. “Hello, Young Trevor. I looked for you earlier.”

  “Uncle,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast. “I was late due to a call. Rhett told me you were using his office to talk to Meredith and Tanner privately. I got to figuring Sin City might have called you today.”

  He hoped the grim set of his mouth conveyed his feelings on the matter. “Yes. I was just briefing them on it.”

  “Anything I should know?” he asked, his body casual but his eyes almost predatory.

  Young Trevor could be downright scary when the situation called for it.

  “I don’t plan on telling J.T.,” Arthur said, “so if that’s a moral dilemma…”

  “It’s not,” he said. “I don’t like keeping things from him, but when it’s for the best, I sleep like a baby.”

  “Glad you think so,” Arthur said “since I also called your Aunt Clara and asked her to give her portion of the Merriam collection to the museum.”

  Trevor didn’t even blink. “Did she hang up on you?”

  “Not quite,” he said. “Of course, this stays between us. No need to mention another probable dead-end to J.T.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Trevor said. “So what did Sin City say when she called?”

  He gave him a succinct recitation, and at the end, Trevor let out a curse word Arthur hadn’t heard since Vietnam.

  “I don’t like her mentioning her daddy,” Trevor said.

  “Neither do I.”

  Trevor was silent. “I hope we didn’t get you into more hot water than you can handle.”

  He slapped the young buck on the back. “One thing about getting old is your skin gets a heck of a lot tougher,” he said.

  Chapter 22

  J.T. closed the door behind the third trustee they’d entertained, just barely restraining the urge to slam it.

  “This is bullshit!” he declared to his fellow welcoming committee, who’d gathered in the foyer to bid their guests adieu.

  Trevor gave him a bored stare. Evan fidgeted alongside Margie, who took his hand. Chase’s poker face was intact. At least Moira seemed to agree with him, somewhat—though she was usually as cool and collected as Chase, today her cheeks were the color of red poppies.

  “We’re encouraging them to believe Caroline has a conflict of interest by not including her, and I don’t like it one bit! How are they going to have faith in me and her unless they see how smart and professional she is?”

  Every day, she briefed him on her progress with the new museum as if it were happening, and every day, he tried to keep his spirits up. For both of them. Dammit, this couldn’t all be for naught.

  “I know I thought it was best to keep her out of it,” Moira said, “but I’ve changed my mind. The Op-Ed Arthur wrote has helped, but it hasn’t addressed one of the elephants in the room. Why else would Professor Hockswelter make that comment tonight? Your sister’s recent firing from Leggett Gallery is a serious concern, you understand. We all know Cynthia was the one who orchestrated that in the first place! I wanted to hit him.”

  “You can use our punching bag anytime,” Trev told her.

  “Calm down,” Chase said. “I’m as angry as everyone else here, but we need to think carefully. We can’t prove Cynthia was behind it.”

  “Then let her defend herself at least,” J.T. said, clenching his fists. “I tried to, but Trevor cut me off.”

  His brother didn’t acknowledge his glare. “I was in a better position to defend her. If you’d done it, it would have looked self-serving, and the same is true of Moira as her sister.”

  Moira put her hands on her hips. “I hate this!”

  “Welcome to political wining and dining,” Chase said in a tight voice.

  “I love you,” she said, “but if you think I’m going to spend the rest of our married life spending my time with horrible people like that, you’re crazy. They aren’t even interested in art! That jerk just wanted to throw his weight around.”

  “I agree with Moira,” Margie said. “My family used to host these kinds of dinner parties. I don’t like watching one of my friends get lambasted like that.”

  “No one likes it,” Evan said, raising her hand to his lips. “I’m sorry. This is why I let Chase do all the entertaining.”

  Chase set his feet. “Trevor and I are the only ones with the stomach for it, but frankly, we’re not the most effective players here. I thought unity would help, but it seems to me there’s something we don’t know. It’s like the three trustees we’ve had dinner with are—”

  “Smug,” Trev said. “I agree. Sin City has something else going on. I think it’s time to change tactics.”

  This wasn’t what J.T. wanted to hear. He’d spent three evenings in the last week biting his tongue as he listened to carefully worded slights about himself and the woman he loved. Now they were going to try something else? Terrific!

  “What exactly do you have in mind?” he asked his brother. “Is it time to hire an assassin?”

  “I’m all for it,” Moira said. “God, I never thought I could get this mad. I mean, I’ve seen crap in human resources, but this kind of steamrolling is a whole new level of shit.”

  Trevor walked over and slapped Chase on the back. “J.T. and I really appreciate all of you stepping forward in solidarity to help, but I think your service is up. They know you aren’t going to pull the Artemis Institute from the university, and our strategy isn’t working. J.T. and I need to do some more digging. We need to figure out what’s going on behind the scenes.”

  There was a knock on the door. At another time, J.T. might have been amused by the way everyone’s faces scrunched into twin looks of disgust, but he was too busy feeling his own disgust to muster any humor about it.

  “Please tell me they didn’t forget anything,” Moira whispered. “I can’t fake smile anymore.”

  “Me either,” Margie said.

  Trevor opened the hall closet and started handing out coats. “Why don’t the rest of you head out? We’ll handle this.”

  The person knocked louder this time, and J.T. made himself cross to the door.

  “Think of England,” Trevor quipped in an undertone.

  “Yeah, right,” he said, opening the door.

  Uncle Arthur and Tanner were waiting on the other side, looking grim.

  “Not who I was expecting, but… Come in.”

  Trevor got behind their guests and started herding them out as though they were a bunch of
Canadian geese. “Seriously, you guys go home. It’s been a long night, and we all know Margie has to wake up in a few hours.”

  “Tell me about it,” Uncle Arthur said. “I’d kiss and shake hands but I don’t have the energy. I’m supposed to turn into a pumpkin at nine o’clock.”

  Moira still kissed his cheek on the way out, her brow knit with worry. After Trevor closed the door, he took Uncle Arthur’s and Tanner’s coats.

  “Well, I know when someone’s died,” Trev said. “What happened?”

  “Best sit down,” Uncle Arthur said, leaning heavily on his cane. “We just blew things wide open.”

  Tanner’s article had gone out yesterday. Cynthia had refused to be interviewed, and Uncle Arthur had been trying to figure out how to wheedle her into going on the record ever since. Even Trev had thought the piece was a solid for them. Perhaps that was why the trustee had gone after Caroline? Dammit, he just didn’t know.

  “If you have a bourbon, Young Trevor,” Uncle Arthur added, “I could sure use it. You might pour one for yourself and your brother too.”

  J.T. unbuttoned his jacket and joined their visitors on the couch in the den. “I find I’m more afraid to hear what you have to say than of being stuck in an elevator.”

  “And he’s claustrophobic,” Trev said, bringing over the bottle of bourbon and four highball glasses. He doled out four healthy pours. “All right, best rip it off like a Band-Aid.”

  Uncle Arthur gestured to Tanner. “Your source. Your show.”

  “Right,” the man said, reaching for his bourbon. “A little background. You might not know this, but I teach a journalism class at Emmits Merriam and have since I first arrived in Dare Valley.”

  “A damn good class too,” Arthur muttered. “Kids think he’s the second coming of journalism.”

  “Anyway, I’m always telling them to keep their ears open for a story, and it seems one of my students took that to heart. He cleans President Matthau’s office as part of a work study program.”

  J.T. sat forward on the edge of his seat. “And I take it he heard something.”