The Woman in the News

by K. N. Casper

  “Your parents aren’t here?” Danny surveyed the crowd.

  “They’ll arrive soon,” Marlee replied. “Stylishly late. They can’t pass up an opportunity to make a grand entrance.”

  Renn couldn’t decide if he detected sarcasm or humor in her tone. What shocked him, though, was learning that her parents would be here. On the three evenings when they worked together designing the tribute to Clark—disappointingly brief, purely technical conferences with several other people in attendance—she’d never mentioned them. Since she always referred to Clark and Audrey as being like parents, he’d assumed her real ones were deceased.

  Danny snorted, his smile one of sympathy. “I guess some things never change.” He glanced toward the door. “Speak of the… Here they are now.”

  The expression on Marlee’s face tightened for a fraction of a second as she shifted her attention to the entranceway.

  “It’s been great seeing you again, Marlee. I haven’t had a chance to catch you on the air, but from all the reports I’ve heard, you’re the best.” He held out his hand and took hers. “Let’s keep in touch. If Terry ever gets tired of me—” he kissed her affectionately on the cheek “—I’ll be looking you up.”

  The familiarity between them bordered on intimacy and made Renn suddenly jealous.

  She laughed. “You know where to find me. Give my best to Terry if I don’t get a chance to later.”

  Danny offered Renn his hand. “It was nice meeting you. Take good care of her—she’s very special.” His handshake was firm.

  Renn’s awareness was instantly drawn to Marlee. The tension he’d observed a few moments earlier still skulked behind her carefully composed features. She’d been at ease with Danny, so it must be the approach of her parents that had her on edge. Renn knew she was originally from here, but he’d assumed Reid was her married name. That she might be one of The Reids of Coyote Springs hadn’t occurred to him.

  “Marlee, darling.” A whiskey voice insinuated its way between them. “I told your father we’d find you here.”

  The slender woman was nearly as tall as Marlee, her lush brown hair perfectly coiffed. She wore a black satin dress with a diamond-and-sapphire necklace that was large, elegant and probably worth a fortune.

  The man beside her was equally imposing. Over six feet tall, he was massive in frame and stocky rather than portly. His curly, light-brown hair was thick, cut short and salted with gray. Renn easily pictured him in whites on the tennis court at the country club.

  “Hello, Mother, Dad.” Marlee’s greeting was proper but not particularly warm.

  “You haven’t come by since the holidays,” her father said.

  “I’ve been busy at the station.” Marlee’s reply sounded defensive, which took Renn by surprise. He’d known her to be contrite when the circumstances warranted, but not defensive.

  “Mother, Dad, this is Renn Davis, the news director at KNCS-TV. My parents, Anthony and Myra Reid.”

  The two men shook.

  “You must be very proud of your daughter. She’s doing a fantastic job at the station.”

  “She’s certainly made herself newsworthy,” Myra said with a smile, an unvoiced sigh in her tone. “I suppose that’s what she wants. I must say it’s not what we expected of her.”

  Renn cocked his head toward Marlee, who was clearly uncomfortable. “And what might that have been?”

  Mrs. Reid glanced at her daughter, her expression one of disappointment. “Let’s just say something more ladylike than barging into boys’ locker rooms.”

  “They were men, Mother, not boys,” Marlee said with a vicious grin. “Definitely men.”

  Mrs. Reid pursed her lips, but refrained from responding to the barb.

  Renn suppressed the urge to chuckle. “Rest assured, Mrs. Reid, your daughter never lost her dignity. In fact, she’s earned the respect of everyone for her composure and decorum.”

  The older woman didn’t appear to be mollified, but a quick wink from Marlee indicated she appreciated his attempt to salvage her tarnished reputation.

  “I see that man is still here. I thought he’d left town.”

  Marlee gazed in the direction of her mother’s glance. “Danny? He’s here for a visit. He lives in Dallas now.”

  Her mother snorted with disapproval.

  “I thought that with the weather warming, you might come out to the lake,” her father said, changing the subject, though Renn got the impression he wasn’t any more happy with his daughter’s choice of profession or friends than her mother was.

  A very unsettling thought struck Renn. Clark had given Renn thumbnail sketches of the people in the sports department: how long they’d worked at the station, whether they were married, how many children. He’d mentioned that Marlee was divorced, no kids. Renn had gotten the impression the marriage had been brief. He’d never thought to ask what her husband’s first name had been. Hadn’t Trish said something about him also being in the media? Graphics software. They used a good deal of it in the television industry, and it was always being upgraded and modified.

  He looked over to where Danniker Milburn was talking to the redhead. The smaller, swarthy man was limping toward the bar with two empty glasses in his hands.

  Ex-husband would explain Danny’s easy familiarity with Marlee and her parents’ hostility to him.

  Renn wasn’t sure what he felt. Marlee and Danny were still friends, still cared for each other, so their divorce must have been amicable. Why had they broken up? Renn had detected no jealousy on Marlee’s part for the other woman. If anything, she seemed genuinely pleased that they were happy together. He gazed at her with new interest. A complex woman and infinitely fascinating. Mystery added to intrigue.

  “I just haven’t had time, Dad,” Marlee said. It took Renn a moment to remember what they were talking about—going to the lake. “Ever since Clark’s death, I’ve been completely tied up.”

  “That was months ago,” her mother observed. “Surely you could have found a few hours to go sailing with your father.”

  “I would have liked to, but—”

  “We’ve bought a cabin cruiser, you know.”

  Marlee gazed at her mother. “No, I didn’t.” She smiled at her father. “Not for the lake, I presume.”

  He chuckled. “Down on the coast. A forty-foot sloop. I’ve had it out twice. A real beauty. Sleeps six, complete galley. Handles like a dream. Has all the latest electronic equipment. You really ought to come down to Corpus Christi and go out on it with us.”

  “I’d like that. In another month things should have settled down at the station and Renn can give me some time off.” She quirked a grin at him, one that rippled clear down to his toes.

  “Do you sail, Mr. Davis?” Anthony Reid asked.

  Renn acknowledged that he did but on a much smaller scale than oceangoing cabin cruisers. They talked about boats, from regattas to schooners. The conversation turned relaxed and pleasant—people discussing things they mutually enjoyed. After a few minutes, however, Renn sensed Marlee was eager to break away.

  “Oh, there are the Carters,” Myra said. “Tony, I need to talk to Leona about the art exhibit at the museum. If you will excuse us.” She extended her hand, palm down. “Very nice meeting you, Mr. Davis.”

  Seconds later the older couple had moved away.

  Marlee seemed relieved at their departure, making Renn wonder what issues separated parents and daughter. Even disappointment over her career choice didn’t explain the chill that existed between them. Not that he could offer much in the way of consolation. His own family background was nothing to brag about, nor did it give him any clues on how happy families successfully coped with problems. Maybe it was something he and Marlee had in common, this dysfunctional relationship between generations.

  He noticed Audrey Van Pelt walk into the ballroom with Talia Preiser, which meant the formalities would soon begin.

  “Shall we stop by the KNCS table and say hello?” Renn suggested.
“I think they’re getting ready to start serving.”

  She nodded and turned. He placed his hand on the small of her back, aware of the tension that still gripped her. They wended their way among the attractively set round tables, each with a floral arrangement in the middle.

  Renn had seen Faye and Taggart arrive several minutes before Marlee’s parents. Sal Bufano and his wife were already there, as were Fred Sanders, the station owner, and his wife. Glenda Soames and Andy Crawford, a radiologist she’d been seeing for several months, were also at the television station’s table. Crawford was a compact man, an inch or two shorter than Glenda, with thinning hair and a quick wit. He had everyone laughing at a joke he’d just told when Renn and Marlee joined them.

  “What a lovely dress,” Faye told Marlee. “I adore that color. Did you buy it locally?”

  It was probably the most personal question Faye had ever asked her. Marlee nodded. “At The Smart Shop.”

  “Dora has some lovely things,” Sal’s wife commented, referring to the shop’s owner.

  “You look quite dapper this evening,” Glenda said to Renn. “Men are so lucky,” she added, to the group at large. “All they have to do is put on a tuxedo or a uniform and they sparkle. Women spend hours dolling themselves up with creams, powders, scents and jewelry, and half the time only other women even notice.”

  “Not tonight,” Renn assured her. “You look good enough to eat.”

  “Careful,” Andy Crawford chimed in with a non-threatening smile, “she’s all mine.”

  “I hear you two aren’t going to be joining us,” Taggart said. “Going to be at the head table.”

  Renn wondered if he’d intended the remark to come out sounding snide, or if he just couldn’t help it. He’d been predictably furious when he’d learned they were making the presentation and he wasn’t invited to participate.

  “Marlee, dear,” Mrs. Bufano said, “I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your interview with Coach Hillman. What a wonderful piece, very touching and poignant.”

  “Thank you,” Marlee said.

  “I completely agree,” Mrs. Sanders echoed. “That poor man, seeing his friend and those boys die like that and unable to do anything about it. You handled the subject very well, pointing out that he was a hero, too, helping to save so many others.”

  “I know Hillman personally,” Sanders piped in. “He told me he had serious reservations about agreeing to the interview, said you were very considerate and sensitive. He really appreciated that.”

  Renn shot a glance at Taggart and Faye. His jaw was tight. Her eyes were averted.

  “He’s a good man,” Marlee confirmed. “I just wanted to let people see that.”

  Talia Preiser and Audrey Van Pelt came up to the group.

  “Thank you all so much for coming tonight,” Talia said, after the usual greetings were made. Seventyish, with silver-gray hair and sparkling hazel eyes, she carried her trim figure with straight-backed dignity that was almost regal, yet she had a personality that put people instantly at ease.

  She turned to Fred Sanders. “I want especially to thank KNCS for their wonderful support over the years. Alegre wouldn’t have been possible without Clark’s inspiration or the sponsorship of your station.”

  “We’re honored that you asked Marlee to put together this evening’s presentation.”

  “I’m sure your new sports anchor has done an outstanding job,” she responded.

  Renn tried to gauge the people around him. Taggart seemed about to bluster, when Faye nudged him.

  It was Glenda who broke the moment of tension. “I’m sure she’ll do us all proud,” she said happily.

  Everyone who understood the significance of Talia’s remark breathed a sigh of relief.

  The music paused and chimes sounded, calling everyone to take their assigned seats.

  The two ladies excused themselves and moved off. Renn had been observing Audrey. The sly grin on her face as she turned to leave told him she’d put the older woman up to the remark. He would have winked at her if he could have done so surreptitiously.

  “Enjoy your dinner,” he said to the group, and escorted Marlee to the head table, just as waiters began serving the shrimp cocktail.

  “Relax,” he whispered in Marlee’s ear as he held her seat. “This is supposed to be fun, remember.”

  But she didn’t.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MARLEE GAZED OUT over the assembled crowd. She knew many of the people here and liked most of them. Her parents were sitting with a couple of bank presidents, a prominent attorney and their wives. Danny and Terry were at a table of businessmen and women. Glenda and Andy Crawford were chatting and laughing with the station’s executives. Everybody was having a good time. Except her, and she wasn’t sure why.

  Running into her parents didn’t matter. They’d reached a kind of truce, which was about the best she could expect, even if her mother did like to snipe from time to time. Part of her discomfort was seeing Audrey without Clark. The love they’d shared had been so perfect, so inspiring. How many of the couples in this room had achieved what Audrey and Clark had? Certainly not her parents. She considered the man beside her. She liked being in his company. Did he yearn for a family? He’d never said anything to suggest it, and that inexplicably added to her sadness.

  Mrs. Preiser referring to her as the new sports anchor was disturbing. Marlee had no doubt the comment had been sincere or who was behind it. Audrey meant well, but pulling the tiger’s tail was a mistake. Faye would accuse her of spreading rumors, misrepresenting herself.

  She was halfway through her prime rib when Renn commented, “You and Danny are certainly on good terms.”

  “Why shouldn’t we be?” she wondered out loud. “We’ve been friends since elementary school.”

  “Your parents don’t appear to be nearly as forgiving.”

  She slanted him at quizzical glance. “Forgiving? For what?”

  “The divorce,” he mumbled between bites of meat.

  What was he talking about? Then it dawned on her and a slow grin crept across her face. She understood now the reticence he’d shown in talking with Danny. She’d been disappointed by his attitude, which she realized now she’d misinterpreted.

  He was jealous. Oh, this was too sweet not to savor. She took another forkful of baked potato, crunched on the bacon bits and sipped her wine.

  “The divorce, huh?” She pouted at him. “Do you see where Danny is sitting? Over there, to the left, second table from the bar. Do you see who’s sitting on his right?”

  His brow furrowed. “The guy with the limp. So?”

  She grinned broadly. “That’s Terry.”

  He gaped, then turned very slowly to her. “Terry is a man?”

  She sucked in her cheeks and barely suppressed a chuckle. “They’ve known each other since high school, went on to college together and majored in computer science. In their senior year Terry was badly injured in a car accident. After months of recovery he continued his rehab with Alegre. That’s how they became associated with the center.” She couldn’t help snickering at the embarrassed expression on Renn’s face. “Danny’s a good friend—” she placed her hand on his “—but our affection is strictly platonic.”

  Glancing over to where the two men sat, Renn felt a sense of relief. Marlee had caught him being jealous of a guy he thought was her ex-husband, which was embarrassing, but it also stripped away any pretense that his interest in her was strictly professional. This was dangerous—for both of them. Sexual attraction was a quagmire. He needed to back off, pull away. His brain was still functioning well enough to register that resistance was the sensible course.

  The mayor tapped a spoon on his wineglass and made his way to the podium. After welcoming everyone to this fifteenth annual Alegre banquet, he formally introduced the people at the head table. Renn could feel the hostility radiating from Faye and Taggart when Marlee was referred to as a close friend of the Van Pelt family and Clark’s p
rotégée—and the new Voice of Coyote Springs.

  He placed a reassuring hand atop hers, felt the warm skin and the pulse beneath it. “Ready?”

  He rose from his seat and held hers. Together they walked to the rostrum. He thanked Audrey Van Pelt and Talia Preiser for giving Marlee and him the privilege of making this presentation. He punched a button on the podium, and two screens descended over the mirrored wall on the north end of the room. Another button dimmed the room’s lights. Finally, he activated the computerized projector that had been set up in the middle of the dance floor during dinner. The KNCS-TV logo appeared on one screen, the Alegre logo on the other.

  “Clark Van Pelt,” Renn said in a smoothly professional baritone voice, “had a distinguished career as a television sports reporter, writer, anchor and teacher that spanned three decades. He came to KNCS-TV as a reporter in 1983 from KDAL-TV in Dallas.”

  The screens were filled with still and motion-picture clips of a much younger man, his hair dark, his face unlined, as he stood behind a microphone in a crowded football stadium, in front of a baseball field, beside a shimmering swimming pool. Background sounds included the muffled roar of a crowd, the crack of a bat, the splash of water.

  “Since then,” Marlee said into her mike, “he earned national and regional awards, twice serving as president of the Sportswriters Guild. Two years ago he was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Award by the National League of Sportscasters for his work in fostering athletics and sportsmanship among poor and disadvantaged youth.”

  There were shots of him holding a large glass plaque before an applauding audience as flashbulbs strobed in quick succession.

  Renn again took over. “He was a distinguished member of the faculty of the School of Broadcast Journalism at Texas University at Coyote Springs for the past fifteen years. His courses on sports journalism and ethics in the media have received national and international acclaim. Clark Van Pelt was awarded an honorary Doctor of Humane Letters by the state university last year.”