A Man of Honor

by Cynthia Thomason

  The drive into Charleston was forty minutes. Jeremy didn’t mind it. His SUV had a great sound system and Sirius radio caught him up with news of the day, a necessity now that news was his future. He parked in his assigned spot when he arrived at the station, happy to see that his name was already on the placard. He was three spots closer to the door than WJQC’s news producer, Brooke Montgomery. Only the head meteorologist and Fred Armitage were between them. He hoped that special consideration didn’t cause any friction between him and Brooke. He’d gladly give up his parking space if she’d teach him what he needed to know.

  Jeremy got out of his car, smoothed the front of his shirt and headed for the door. The primary thing on his agenda was finding Brooke to see when they could meet today. Might as well get started on the first day of the rest of his life.

  * * *

  BROOKE HAD ONLY four miles to drive to the station in downtown Charleston, although the trip took thirty minutes or more because of traffic. But that was okay. Each morning she had a chance to catch up with her sister, Camryn. Brooke initiated the hands-free device on her car phone and punched in the single digit that would connect her to Cam on her farm. Last night, Brooke had decided to level with Camryn about what was going on in her life. Not to would not have been possible.

  “Hello, Brooke,” Camryn said. “How are things this morning?”

  “Great. Wonderful. How’s Esther?”

  “She’s fine. Just got on the school bus.”

  Brooke adored her nieces. She asked about the other one. “And Gracie? How is she?”

  “Grace is up at the house with Reed. Oh, she’s happy and healthy. And chubby as all get out.”

  Brooke was grateful. After suffering two miscarriages, Camryn had been stressed out through this latest pregnancy. Near the end of her term, a couple of months ago, the baby came early, but everyone in the family celebrated the healthy birth.

  “I’m sure you knew how I would answer that question so I’m guessing you have something important and personal on your mind today,” Cam said, guessing correctly.

  “I do. It’s Milt—he’s come up with this bizarre idea to improve our ratings.”

  Camryn sighed. “What did he do now?”

  Brooke gave her a quick rundown on the new hire and the ultimatum Milt had given her to turn the jock into news-announcer gold. “Milt has stars in his eyes,” Brooke said. “He genuinely believes this ex-football player will turn WJQC into the top-rated show at the five o’clock hour. And he wants me to be the one to perform the miracle of ridding his brain of all the athletic stuff and filling it with local and worldwide current events.”

  “I’d say he picked the best news producer in Charleston to do that,” Camryn said.

  Brooke smiled. “Well, yeah, he did. But here’s the deal—if I don’t do the possibly impossible, he’s going to fire me.”

  “That’s not fair. I know lots of ex-athletes have become broadcasters, but most of those have gone into some related sports field. Tackling real news is a different story. Why would Milt threaten to let you go? You’re the backbone of that station.”

  Brooke appreciated Camryn’s loyalty.

  “Wait a minute,” Camryn said. “Does this have something to do with...?” She hesitated saying the words. “You know.”

  “Okay.” Brooke took a deep breath. “Milt has noticed that I’ve been letting personal matters get in the way of my performance at WJQC. He thinks it’s a much bigger deal than it is, but—”

  “Oh, Brooke, how many times did I warn you about using company time to find Edward?”

  “And how many times did I tell you I wasn’t going to give up my search for our brother?” Brooke’s heart raced as it did every time she had to defend her efforts to find their sibling. “I’m so close, Cammie. I can feel it. Gabe has some good leads.”

  “I’m sure he told you he did,” Camryn said. “Brooke, this is getting serious now. You’ve got to give up this obsession. Edward is a speck of sand in a ten-mile beach. You’re never going to find him. And now you might lose your job.”

  “Thanks, Cam. I called you for sympathy, and I get the same old lecture. It’s possible that Milt’s bluffing, anyway.”

  “Deep down, Brooke, you called me for advice, and I’ve just given it to you, for the hundredth time. And by the way, how are you fixed for money? I worry about those payments to Gabe.”

  Yeah, and so do I. “I’m fine,” Brooke said. “I just pulled into the parking lot. I’ve got a news show to produce before Mr. Legs starts pestering me for my unrivaled expertise.”

  “Mr. Legs?” Camryn repeated. “What does that mean?”

  Brooke pictured Jeremy in all his six feet, three inches of manly glory. “Nothing,” she said. “It was just something Cissy noticed. Has nothing to do with, well, anything.”

  “Sure, of course it doesn’t,” Camryn said with a mischievous tone in her voice. “Let me know how it goes today with Mr. Legs.”

  The sisters always ended their calls the same way. “I love you,” Brooke said. “Though I can’t imagine why.”

  “Love you, too, and I can think of a thousand reasons why.”

  Brooke was smiling when she swiped her ID in front of the scanner at the employees’ entrance.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE FIRST PERSON Brooke ran into when she went inside the station was Jeremy Crockett. He was coming out of the executive lounge, and looked fresh, eager and neatly pressed. His hands were wrapped around a coffee mug. He smiled at her. “Just the lady I want to see,” he said.

  “Well, here I am.”

  “Milt says you and I are going to be spending some time together while you teach me the ropes of news broadcasting. A lot of my training will be hands-on, so you’ll see me around the station looking over shoulders, yours especially, and asking questions. But for the nuts and bolts, Milt says you’ve offered to tutor me.”

  “Oh, yes, I did, didn’t I?” She almost choked on the word offer. More like had to agree.

  His eyes narrowed. “Do you have a problem with us working together?”

  Watch yourself, Brooke, she thought, masking her true feelings with a smile. Milt made it clear that Jeremy is supposed to assume you volunteered for this assignment. “Of course not. We’ll just have to find time that we can both devote to this endeavor.”

  “I have time I can devote today,” Jeremy said. “You name the hour.”

  Already he was pressuring her. She hadn’t even entered her office yet. “Mornings are always hectic,” she said. “Some afternoons aren’t much better. We probably should arrange to meet outside of the office. Since we both have to eat, why don’t you meet me at Pickler’s Pub around the corner at twelve thirty and we’ll get started.”

  “Sounds good. See you then.” Jeremy scurried off as if he had decisions to make and other employees to badger. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he was secretly heading off to his new office to sharpen pencils. What else would he be doing his first official day on the job? But he was eager, and that was commendable.

  By lunchtime, Brooke learned she had been terribly wrong about Jeremy Crockett. As usual, she dove right into her work, selecting stories for the news show, assigning her research team to verify facts and then turning the summary thumbnails over to the writers, who would write and proof the stories and transform them into edge-of-the-seat masterpieces. In practically every department she went to, she saw Jeremy doing exactly what he’d promised to do—he was looking over shoulders and asking questions...when he could get a word in edgewise, in the busy, stressful atmosphere of a crack news team.

  Shortly before Brooke was getting ready to head to the pub, Cissy burst into her office. “Go to lunch with me today,” she said. “My treat.”

  Cissy asked Brooke to lunch two or three times a week, so the invitation wasn’t unusual. But today, the enthusiasm for
a club sandwich was over-the-top. Cissy was almost breathless.

  “I can’t,” Brooke said. “I’ve already made arrangements.”

  “Break them, okay? I have to talk to you.”

  Cissy was nothing if not persistent. “Talk to me now,” she said, glancing at her watch. “I have a few minutes.”

  Cissy sat in the chair by Brooke’s desk. “Okay, but I doubt a few minutes is enough time.”

  “Cissy, take a deep breath. What’s wrong? You seem upset about something.”

  “You remember the football guy who came to the station yesterday?”

  Brooke nodded.

  “Have you heard?”

  “Heard what? That he’s going to work here?”

  “Work here?” Cissy’s voice rose. “If that’s all you think he’s going to do, then you haven’t heard the whole story. You know how we’ve all been wondering who will take over for Fred?”

  Brooke nodded, though she hadn’t been wondering at all. No matter who was chosen to take over the news desk, her work wouldn’t change. At least that’s what she’d thought before Milt gave her an extra duty.

  “I’m glad you’re sitting down, Brooke,” Cissy said. “That Crockett guy is supposed to become the face of WJQC. Milt Cramer hired him to take over for Armitage. A jock! What could he possibly know about delivering the news?”

  “Well, I guess Milt has the power to do what he wants. He runs the station.”

  Cissy huffed. “You’re taking this rather calmly.” She leaned forward. “You knew about this already, didn’t you?”

  “I heard yesterday.”

  “And you didn’t tell me? I had to hear from a camera operator! I thought we were friends.”

  Brooke wasn’t sure how she would describe her relationship with Cissy, but friend probably wasn’t at the top of the list. Yes, Cissy was close to Brooke’s age of thirty-two, but somehow there seemed to be a decade of maturity between the two women. Whenever Cissy wanted to say something, she was either too excited to get the words out, or, as in the case today, too upset to take a deep breath. In Cissy’s world, everything that happened was either the “best ever” or the “worst possible.”

  “I didn’t see a reason to tell you,” Brooke said. “It’s Milt’s place to spread the news to the staff.”

  “Do you realize what this means? That guy, that Jeremy, will probably do such a half-baked job that he’ll ruin the station. And he’ll make tons more work for the rest of us who have to cover for his mistakes. We’ll probably have to keep our copy down to two-syllable words so he can pronounce them.”

  Brooke folded her hands on her desk. Poor Jeremy. Brooke wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of teaching him but she didn’t think he deserved to fail before trying. “Cissy, your comments are extremely prejudicial. Just because the guy was an athlete does not mean he isn’t capable of doing other things. Besides, yesterday you trailed after him like a puppy.”

  “That was before I knew! You’re not seeing the big picture, Brooke. Even if the guy manages to string a few sentences together, he’s ruined the chances for advancement for people at this station who had hopes of taking over for Fred.”

  Brooke hadn’t heard of anyone with such lofty dreams. “And who would that be?” she asked. “Jim would never leave the weather map. And Dirk loves doing on-location stories. He’d never want to be stuck in the building.”

  Cissy’s breathing became erratic. “I can’t believe you haven’t noticed, Brooke. I’m talking about myself...or you! One of the two of us should have gotten a crack at the opening. I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. You should be on camera.”

  “Except for the fact that I don’t want to be,” Brooke said.

  “Then I should be. I’m a seasoned professional. I know almost as much about how to deliver the news as you do. And you are the best.”

  Sometimes Cissy was a little overzealous with her flattery.

  “That’s quite a conclusion to jump to, Cissy, considering I’ve never delivered the news.”

  “You would be the best,” Cissy insisted, as if Brooke hadn’t spoken. “I would be great, too. I’ve studied diction and body language.” Cissy’s voice wavered, and her eyes grew misty. Brooke reached for the box of tissues on the corner of her desk.

  “I wanted that job, Brooke. I’ve dreamed about it. I’ve prepared for it. It’s not fair that I didn’t get a chance to audition for it. If you had gotten the job, I could have been your first assistant until you retired. If I’d gotten it, you would have been my producer. We would have been a team, the best one ever.” She sniffed loudly. “Now it’s all ruined.”

  Cissy was right about one thing. Brooke had never noticed, never even suspected, that the production assistant had the unrealistic goal of becoming a news presenter. Now that she was faced with the situation, Brooke didn’t know what to say. To tell Cissy that she didn’t have the temperament to be on air, not to mention the experience and demeanor, would only upset her more. Brooke handed her a tissue.

  “Look, Cissy, I’m sorry your dreams for taking over Fred’s job aren’t going to come true, but that’s what they were—dreams. Even if Milt held auditions, dozens, maybe hundreds of people, would have applied. People with on-air experience and credentials. And there is nothing you or I can do about the decision he made to hire Jeremy. He wants the station to go in another direction. He wants Jeremy, with his background and recognizable face, to make waves.”

  “He wants a pretty-boy jock!” Cissy said.

  “Yes, he does.” And I’m the one who has to make sure he succeeds. “And again, that’s Milt’s prerogative.”

  Cissy sat quietly for a moment while Brooke checked her watch. She was going to be late.

  “There is one thing we can hope for,” Cissy said.

  “What’s that?”

  “We can hope Jeremy fails. And he will, you know. He’ll stumble once too often and Milt will realize what a stupid decision he made. Then I...or you, of course, can move into that spot.”

  “Cissy, I’m certainly not going to wish for anyone to fail. And I’m going to assume that Jeremy won’t.” I hope he doesn’t or I could be out on the street...and then I’ll never find Edward.

  “You want me to feel like I’m a terrible person, don’t you?” Cissy said. “Like I want bad things to happen to one person so good things happen to me?”

  That about summed it up. “Of course not. You aren’t a terrible person, but you’ve got to let this go. We work for Milt Cramer. That’s the way it is. If we don’t like it, we can go somewhere else and find a job. But I’m going to stay right here.” I hope.

  Brooke stood and grabbed her purse. “I’ve really got to run. You should take a few minutes and then go out there and load that prompter with the best news we’ve got to offer.”

  Cissy gave her a look that almost made Brooke cringe. Where had Pollyanna gone all of a sudden?

  * * *

  STILL WEARING HER high heels, Brooke dashed from the station and rounded the corner that would take her to Pickler’s. She was already fifteen minutes late, and didn’t want to give WJQC’s newest hire the impression that being late was acceptable. News wasn’t news anymore once everyone had the story. Jeremy should learn that first and foremost.

  She had only a few hundred feet to go to the antique stained-glass door to Pickler’s when a boy leading a huge German shepherd approached from the opposite direction. Brooke wasn’t afraid of dogs, but big, tongue-lolling ones who looked like they were trolling for kisses gave her pause. She glanced down at her beige suit and then looked at the dog’s paws. “Hold on to him, kid, okay?”

  Apparently the dog thought she was addressing him because he lunged at her, striking her beautiful linen lapels with his front feet. She yelped, jumped away and felt a twinge of real pain when her left foot landed in a sidewalk grate.

  “S
orry, lady,” the kid said. “He’s real friendly. He won’t hurt you.”

  “Won’t hurt me? He just about broke my leg!”

  The boy tightened his grip on the leash and sped away down the street.

  Brooke yanked her heel out of the grate and took a couple of steps. The heels weren’t going to work, so she slipped off the left one and tried her best to scrape leaves and who knew what else from the sole. Then, wincing with each step, she very carefully continued to the door.

  She entered the pub and stopped abruptly in the doorway. “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Her jaw dropped as she viewed the scene playing out in the busy restaurant. There was Jeremy, looking all cool and collected, pen in hand, signing menus for three waitresses who surrounded his table. Brooke couldn’t tell whose smile was the biggest—the ladies fawning over the celebrity star, or the star himself.

  He saw her and stood immediately. “My lunch appointment just arrived,” he said. “Excuse me, ladies.”

  He hurried to the door, saw her shoe in her hand, and paw prints on her clothes, and asked, “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing,” she snapped. “It’s fine. I might have twisted my ankle, that’s all.”

  “Or worse,” he said. “Here, let me help you.”

  Before she could argue, he had her arm around his neck and he was supporting her with a strong arm circling her back and his hand on her waist. “Don’t put weight on it,” he said. “Let me get you to a table.”

  That was enough to make her feel like a first-class fool. Everyone in the bar was watching. She recognized some of the faces, but refused to respond to the implied questions.

  Jeremy settled her at the table and raised her leg to an empty chair between them. “Let me get a look at it,” he said.