Chapter 4
The week after Blaise’s visit to Salima was typical of life at the network. She planned her show, covered a variety of stories, did several editorials, and was working on two specials, when she heard a rumor, and at first wondered if it was true. It was the kind of thing one heard frequently, that someone was being hired or fired, or shifted around, that management was making changes, and often it was only gossip. She had learned over the years not to panic or react too quickly. The network was a rumor mill.
The first she heard of it was from Charlie, who told her simply that there was a new girl in town. She had been brought in from an affiliate in Miami, she had been a model before that, and he said she was a knockout, and twenty-nine years old. And the next day Blaise heard it from Mark. The new girl was going to be doing weekend news for a while, which was where new faces often started, to try them out. And when Blaise was introduced to her at a meeting, she was as beautiful as Charlie had said. She was a tall, statuesque blonde, with astounding breast implants and a tiny waist, and she had a lovely face. And Blaise thought she seemed enthusiastic and smart. Susie Quentin had gone to Brown and had a master’s in journalism from Columbia.
As they left the meeting, the new girl in town walked over with an awestruck look as she spoke to Blaise.
“I’ve always wanted to meet you,” she said in a breathy tone that Blaise couldn’t envision on the news. Her voice was unfortunate and made her sound less bright than she was. But her looks more than compensated for it. And her eyes observed everything, and Blaise had the distinct impression that Susie Quentin was gunning for her. Blaise could smell it, and she had been there for too long not to know how it worked. It was how she had come in, twenty-five years earlier. She had arrived from San Francisco to replace someone else, whom the world had forgotten long since, and Blaise had too. She couldn’t even remember her name, and she’d only been there for a few years before Blaise. But with Blaise they had gotten a lot more than they’d ever expected. She had become a major star at the network, there wasn’t a house in the entire country where they didn’t know her name, and everyone working at a network, an affiliate, in any city wanted to be her. And Susie Quentin had come from Miami to do just that. She wanted to be the new Blaise McCarthy, and as their eyes met, Blaise knew she was in trouble again. It had happened before, they had brought in others over the years, to warm them up, and get them ready to take her place. It had always backfired, but she knew that one day someone would come along, smarter or better, more exciting, and prettier to look at, and young above all, and she’d be gone. She just wasn’t ready for it to happen yet. Blaise was at the top of her game. Her specials were getting better and better, her editorials more astute, and her ratings were solid. And now they had brought this girl in, and just looking at her, Blaise could feel management breathing down her neck.
“You were my idol and role model all through school,” Susie said to Blaise, as Blaise felt her blood run cold. Susie Q, as people were calling her behind her back, made Blaise feel about ninety years old.
“That’s nice to hear. Welcome to New York,” Blaise said, trying not to look upset. She was a big network star after all and tried to tell herself that she had nothing to fear. But Blaise knew better. There was always something to fear at the network.
“I just got here last week,” Susie explained. “Everyone’s been terrific. They’re letting me use a corporate apartment, till I find a place.” More bad news. They never let anyone use those apartments unless they expected them to go far, or were planning to see that they did. They were obviously investing in Susie Quentin and expected to get their money’s worth. When she went back to her office, Blaise’s heart was in her feet, and her stomach between her ears. Mark said nothing to her about it, until the next day. He knew he had to tell her, before she heard it from someone else.
“They’re giving Susie Q a special on the homeless to do,” he said in an undertone. It was an important story and a major piece, and the kind of thing they would have normally asked Blaise to do.
“Thanks for the tip,” Blaise said without further comment, and went back to work at her desk. She knew what this meant for her. She would have to work even harder and better and longer hours, be more innovative and creative, and keep her ratings up in the stratosphere somewhere. They were already great, but there was no room now for any slips. The pressure was on.
Blaise was panicked, even if she didn’t show it, and she started going to the gym in the afternoon after work, to stay calm. She called her trainer and a masseuse and made a date with both for the weekend. And she worked late every night developing new ideas. She wondered briefly if they had only brought Susie in to push Blaise harder and make her produce, but looking at Susie, Blaise knew that wasn’t true. They were grooming her for something big. And it didn’t get bigger than Blaise. It might take her a year to get there, but she was on her way, like a heat-seeking missile headed for Blaise’s seat. Blaise hadn’t been this stressed in years. And for the next two weeks, she concentrated on her work to the exclusion of all else. There was no margin for error now.
In spite of the pressure and distractions at work, she called Salima several times, just to check in. She didn’t tell her what was going on at the network. But Andrew Weyland called her from L.A. a week after Susie had arrived. He had heard the rumors too. In true passive-aggressive style, he told Blaise he was worried about her and the strain it would put on her, but in truth he had just called to gloat. He was still angry that she had ended their affair when she found out his divorce was a lie. His career in L.A. wasn’t going well, and his ratings had slipped severely.
“You don’t need to worry about a thing,” he reassured her, sounding loving, but fake to Blaise. She knew him well. “She could never handle your job. There will never be another you.” But she wasn’t so sure. One day there would be, and maybe that time was now. His sympathy sounded insincere.
“You never know,” she said calmly, sounding noncommittal. “So how’s life in L.A.? Do you get to the beach every day?” He had moved to Malibu, in a spectacular house she had seen in a magazine, while he and his wife posed by the pool. The wife he had supposedly still been planning to divorce, even after Blaise left him. Another lie until it became obvious it wasn’t true. They looked like the perfect couple in matching white shirts and jeans, with his arm around her, and California smiles, in the magazine spread she’d seen. Even after leaving him, seeing the article had upset her, and hearing from him only made it worse. But she always took his calls and was never sure why. Probably because there was no one else to talk to about her life. They knew each other so well, and familiarity counted for something. It was a poor excuse, but the only one that made sense to her. But he always managed to hurt her feelings, even when he appeared to be nice. Sometimes it was even worse when he was. It made her miss him, and the good times they’d had before she learned the truth. He had been so convincing. And now she no longer believed a word he said.
“We ought to have dinner sometime, for old times’ sake. I’m coming to New York in a few weeks,” he said in a smooth voice. Like the snake in the Garden of Eden.
“Yeah, maybe,” she said vaguely, although she knew she wouldn’t. She had no desire to torture herself to that extent. All she did now was take his calls and listen to him, but never see him. She hadn’t seen him in over a year and didn’t want to again. Her ultimate goal was to stop talking to him entirely, by phone, text, or e-mail, but she hadn’t achieved it yet. “I’d better get back to work. Thanks for the call.” Why was she thanking him? she asked herself as she hung up. For what? Upsetting her again? Scaring her about Susie? Making her doubt herself? Reminding her of what a liar he’d been and how badly she’d been hurt? She had felt like roadkill for a year after they broke up, and now she was numb. She couldn’t listen to any man now without wondering if he was lying to her. Andrew’s legacy lived on and maybe always would. Blaise could no longer imagine believing a man again, and didn’t want
to. There was no room for romance in her life anymore. And with Susie Q in her face, romance was the last thing on her mind. All she wanted was to save her skin. And the rumors about Susie were rampant. She was management’s new Golden Child, and they thought she could do no wrong, although she had yet to prove herself. And they loved her youth and her look.
Two weeks after Susie arrived at the network, Blaise was working on a story, when the phone rang and Mark was out to lunch. She picked it up herself. All she could hear at the other end was incoherent sobbing, and she had no idea who it was, or if the call was even for her.
“Hello?… Who is this?” Blaise asked the unknown caller from a blocked number, sounding confused. “I’m sorry.… Are you there?” And then she heard a familiar scream. It was a sound she hadn’t heard in years. Salima. She had screamed that way as a baby, and when she started to go blind and was scared. Blaise’s heart started to race. “Salima?… Talk to me.… Is that you?” And then the voice broke down in sobs, she was talking incoherently and saying something about Abby, but Blaise still couldn’t understand what it was. “Baby, come on.… Slow down.… What happened?” With a feeling of panic, she wondered if Abby had quit, or been fired. It was the only reason Blaise could think of for Salima to fall apart. And if she’d been fired, Blaise would force Caldwell to bring her back. There was nothing they couldn’t fix. “Where are you?” Blaise asked her, wondering if Abby was there. Had they had an argument? Was Abby hurt?
“At the cottage,” she said in a tone of anguish. It was the first thing she had said that Blaise could understand.
“Where’s Abby?”
In answer to the question, Salima broke down in sobs again. It was several very long minutes before she could speak again, while her mother told her to breathe.
“She got sick.… She woke up this morning with a fever.… I called Mrs. Garner and asked her to send the nurse. She called the doctor and they took her away. They took her to the hospital, and they wouldn’t let me go with her.”
“Baby, she’ll be all right,” Blaise said in a soothing tone, but Salima only cried harder. “It’s probably just a really bad flu, and they don’t want you to catch it.”
“They said she had meningitis. I called the hospital, and they wouldn’t let me talk to her. They said she was sleeping. I never got to say goodbye to her, Mom.” Her voice was raw, and a chill ran down Blaise’s spine.
“Why would you say goodbye to her?” her mother asked her, sounding frightened.
“She’s dead,” Salima said, and then dissolved in sobs again as Blaise sat clutching the phone in disbelief. She had died within hours, which Blaise was aware happened with meningitis, but it was impossible to believe. She looked at her watch and knew what she had to do.
“I’ll be there as fast as I can. I’ll leave the office in a few minutes. Hang in, baby. I’m on my way. I know this is awful, beyond awful, it’s unthinkable. I’ll be there in three hours.” It took a few minutes, but she got Salima off the phone and called Charlie. She told him she had a family emergency and had to leave immediately. And with a lump in her throat, she told him she couldn’t do her broadcast the next day. “I know this is short notice, and I’m sorry, but I have no choice.”
“What happened? Is your daughter okay?” He sounded concerned. Blaise never left the office without plenty of warning, nor missed her broadcasts, ever.
“The woman who takes care of her just died. She’s hysterical. She loved her more than she loves me.” She said it without rancor, and he was one of the few people at the network, other than Mark, who knew Salima was blind and diabetic.
“Just go,” he said kindly. “Call me tonight and let me know when you’re coming back.”
“It might be a few days,” she said honestly. “This is going to be really hard for my kid. And Charlie,” she said as an afterthought, “please don’t give Susie Q my morning spot to fill in.” Blaise knew better than anyone that this was no time for her to disappear, and she had never done that before. It might give Susie her big break. But she couldn’t face that now too. Not yet.
“Don’t worry. It won’t happen.” Charlie loved working with Blaise. They were a great team. “Just relax, and go take care of your kid.”
“Thank you,” she said, and hung up, and then dialed the school. She asked for the headmaster to make sure that they had someone with Salima who would be able to comfort her until Blaise arrived. He explained to Blaise what had happened.
“We still can’t believe it. She was dead in four hours. She was fine yesterday. They said meningitis is like that. Now we’re worried about an epidemic.” He sounded panicked, and so was Blaise, for Salima.
“What are you going to do?” Blaise asked in a strained voice. She was worried about Salima now, living so closely with her. What if she had been exposed and died too? Blaise felt sick thinking about it. Salima was the only person in the world she loved. And she knew enough about bacterial meningitis, which Abby had died of, to know that you could get it from an infected person coughing or sneezing.
“I don’t know yet. We’ll talk about it when you get here. I’m meeting with someone from the board of health in an hour.” He had just come from telling Abby’s mother that her daughter died. It had been a nightmarish day for the entire school, but for Salima most of all, they both knew.
“I’ll be there as fast as I can.” She told him what she had said to Salima, and then she flew out the door. She passed Mark in the hall and told him where she was going and why.
“Oh my God” was all he could think of to say, looking shocked. “Is there anything I can do?” She shook her head and raced past him. She was in the elevator within seconds and across the lobby. She found Tully outside and had him drive her home, where she threw some clothes into a bag, and then he took her to her garage and helped her get her bag in the car.
“You need to calm down before you start driving,” he told her sternly. “You’ll kill yourself getting there if you don’t.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, but didn’t look it. And three minutes later she was on the road, weaving through traffic toward the East River to drive north.
She drove as fast as she could all the way. She fully expected to be stopped by the police, but she wasn’t. And she was at Caldwell two and a half hours later. She went straight to the cottage, where Salima was crying uncontrollably, and Blaise took her in her arms and held her while she sobbed. All she could do was hug her and make soothing sounds. There was nothing to say, no way to make it better, and worst of all, no way to bring Abby back. Salima sounded as though her heart were broken. And eventually Blaise put her to bed. One of the school monitors Blaise knew only slightly was with her, and Blaise sat on her bed and held her hand until Salima fell asleep. And as soon as she did, Blaise went to find Eric, the headmaster, in the main building where he lived. He looked devastated when he greeted Blaise, and she could see that he had been crying too.
“We’re closing the school. Tomorrow,” he said with an ominous look, as Blaise stared at him, in shock yet again.
“Forever?” He shook his head in answer. He was running out of words.
“The board of health recommends that we close for sixty to ninety days, depending on whether or not we get any new cases. We have to send everyone home. It’s dangerous for any of us to be here. We were all exposed to Abby. We notified everyone an hour ago. Several of the parents have already picked their children up. I’m expecting a dozen more tonight. The rest are leaving in the morning. Above all, we want to avoid an epidemic.”
“What will happen to the kids?” Blaise asked in a shaking voice.
“We’re going to send as many monitors home with them as we can. But I have a problem, Blaise,” he said, eyeing her squarely. He had always been honest with her, for the past eleven years, and she considered him a friend. “None of the monitors who’d be suitable for Salima can leave here. None of the female ones, that is. They’re all married and have kids, and live nearby, and they won�
��t go to New York. I’ve talked to them all.”
“What about Lara, the girl who’s with her now?”
“She has a husband and two kids. She won’t go. She had a hell of a time even finding someone for them for tonight. She doesn’t usually live in,” which was why Blaise had hardly ever seen her and didn’t recognize her at first. And she didn’t work weekends. “I have someone terrific for you. But not a woman. He’s a great guy.” Blaise looked horrified by what he said.
“I can’t take a guy with me. I travel all the time. He can’t get Salima dressed or in and out of the bathtub. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Make it work. It’s all I can do,” he said honestly. “He’s the best teacher I’ve got. I would have sent him home with Timmie Jenkins, but they’re putting Timmie in another school now in Chicago, closer to home. They’ve been wanting to for a while. So that frees up Simon. I asked him, and he’s willing to go to New York.”
“I can’t take a man,” Blaise said stubbornly. “You have to get me someone else. A man won’t work.” She was desperate. He had to help her.
“He’s all I’ve got.” Eric looked at her unhappily, and Blaise looked panicked. “It’s him or no one. Don’t you have a woman who can help you out? A housekeeper of some kind?”
“I have a housekeeper, but she only works days. She doesn’t live in. And I travel for work, at least half the time. This will be very hard on her.”
“It’s hard on us having to close the school. We all have to make the best of it. When are you taking Salima out? You can leave tonight if you like.”
“She’s asleep. We’ll leave in the morning. When is Abby’s funeral?” Blaise asked. She had never met Abby’s mother and knew it must have been devastating for her to lose her daughter.
“It’s the day after tomorrow,” he said grimly. It had been the worst day in the history of the school.
A Perfect Life: A Novel Page 6