The big push for that book was over. He was tasked now with the follow-up, which was a killer. Follow-ups always were tough. The audience suddenly had big expectations. The publisher, his editor, and his agent all had a lot riding on his ability to hit a home run the second time out. There was plenty of pressure. He’d never minded pressure if there was something he could do about it.
The only possible stumbling block was the other reason he had taken this beach house. Dorothy Duncan. The secrets she kept. If she kept secrets as Aunt Nora thought. If he allowed himself to get too distracted by that quest, it could show up in his writing. He wasn’t worried about being distracted by Pam. She could only make his writing happier.
It took time to court a woman. Time he needed to write, time he needed to discover what Dorothy knew about the past. Pam was another potential threat to achieving his goals for the summer.
He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. First, to see Pam again, and, definitely to find an opportunity to kiss her soft lips once more.
Chapter 15
Marty called Linley and Jason into his office.
“You can shut the door,” he said to Jason, gesturing for them to sit in front of his desk. His expression gave nothing away, which Linley took to be ominous.
They sat. The chairs looked comfortable but they weren’t. Linley strove to project polite eagerness, but inwardly she was quaking. Whatever Marty had to say was going to change her life. Was he about to fire her?
“I hear you two have been mixing it up on the show lately.” An understatement, since Marty undoubtedly watched every second of every show.
Oh, crap, he was going to fire her. Maybe Jason, too?
“Merely proposing differing points of view,” Jason replied, obviously trying to put a good face on it, plus feeling his way about why Marty was inquiring.
“Is that all it is?” Marty asked her.
Don’t show a weakness. If she was about to be axed, she’d go down swinging.
“We don’t always agree on who the bad guys are,” she finally said.
“Is this a genuine philosophical divide, or something you each put on for the cameras?” Marty enquired.
Jason answered this time. “I tend to think anti-corporate. I’m pro the little guy.”
“Nobody is forcing these idiots to buy $5,000 televisions instead of paying off their debts,” she snapped before she thought. Every time Jason took a stand for the little guy, it burned her up.
“You’re ignoring the profound effect Wall Street manipulators have on the economy’s stability,” Jason said, but more calmly than she had spoken.
Marty inclined his head, taking note of Linley’s instant heat. “Sounds like a television show. How would you two like to do an extra half an hour per day of airing your differing points of view?”
Linley’s jaw dropped. This was it. Her big break. Don’t screw this up. She glanced briefly out of the corner of her eye at Jason. He looked surprised, but not as shocked as she felt. “When?” she asked, having trouble keeping her voice from squeaking in excitement.
“Right after Jason’s show. You’d take one topic per day and chew on it. I don’t want mere opposing opinions. You each have to bring facts to the fight.”
Marty turned to Jason. “Are you up for this? Your background is more general than Linley’s.”
Jason gave his patented moderator look, the one that said he was serious, he was paying attention, and he understood. “I can handle it.”
“All right,” Marty said. “Now this is a team show, you two.” Then he went into details on compensation, which he said would be the same for each of them to promote fairness and collegiality despite the acrimony the show might produce. He asked them to come up with a list of topics and some format input for a planning meeting. Then he dismissed them. “Remember, you’re to be friendly adversaries.”
She left Marty’s office in a daze. After all these years, she’d finally arrived. A show of her own. Oh, wow. Okay, so she’d be sharing the spotlight with Jason. Still, her name would be on the show, wouldn’t it? Would it? She couldn’t remember if Marty had said the title of the show.
Jason, who had been walking beside her, suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her into the file room. It was a room with no windows because it held part of the old tape library. Now the digital library. People used it all the time, so the door was always kept open. Jason shut it, pushed her up against it with his big body, and kissed her hard on the lips.
“We did it, girl,” he exulted.
She felt the impact of his touch down to her toes. Her raging excitement abruptly shifted to focus on Jason, Jason, Jason.
He kissed her again. This time, she opened her mouth and kissed him back just as fiercely. They grabbed kisses all over, and groped each other feverishly. Her skirt was quickly hiked up around her hips as Jason’s big hands touched her everywhere.
Then someone tried the door.
It broke them apart. She immediately wiped her smudged lips, and straightened her dress. She didn’t look at him directly. She could tell he was adjusting his tie, and re-tucking the shirt she had ripped nearly out of his pants. Oh, god. She had to get herself under control.
She went to the wall of tapes and grabbed one at random. Jason went to a different wall and did the same. Then he flung open the door. The person had left. They didn’t have to use their thin alibis.
“Dump the tapes. We might as well leave together,” Jason said.
She re-shelved the cassette carefully and walked out of the file room in a daze far different yet as profound as the one she’d been in before.
She suddenly came to herself. She had walked all the way to the entrance of her cubicle without noticing. Jason was walking next to her, obviously equally thoughtful.
“Don’t say anything,” she said in a low, dangerous voice. “Don’t you dare say a word.” She struggled to keep her words from gaining volume. She wanted to shriek at him. Their big chance, and he’d almost screwed it up totally by grabbing her. Didn’t he have any control?
She took a deep breath and let it out, conscious Jason was staring at her. His expression was impossible to fathom.
“Did Marty say the name of the show?” she asked, forcing herself to speak in a quiet, well-modulated tone. They had to get back to what was important. This was business.
“No. How does ‘Jason and Linley Duke it Out’ sound?” he asked, obviously not serious. His thoughts were clearly elsewhere. As were hers.
“Lousy. ‘Linley versus Jason’ is better. We should think of some dignified and exciting possible titles to propose to Marty.”
He shook his head as if to clear it. He obviously was brimming with disparate, conflicting thoughts, just as she was. Was he regretting his impulsive action? He damn well should be.
He nodded. “This is big. A personality-driven show instead of news driven. It’s the next rung of the ladder.” He looked down at her with a determined expression. “Let’s make sure we don’t screw it up.”
“I’m not planning to,” she replied, a frosty edge in her tone. “Maybe you’d better watch yourself.” She raised an eyebrow in emphasis.
Jason eyed her carefully. “I won’t mess up. See that you don’t, either,” he said before walking off.
Egotistical bastard. It was okay for him to have sex with her in the file room—and they would have if someone hadn’t tried the door—but she needed a warning to behave? Or was he now only thinking about the money program? Did he think she would get lazy now, and sabotage her big chance? No way. Success was so near she could taste it. From here, she could get her own solo show. She’d be a somebody from now on.
She sat at her desk and started feverishly brainstorming show topics and possible show titles, ways in which they would introduce each day’s topic, and more. Oh, lord, what would she wear? Should she dress more in anchorwoman mode for this program? For Jason, it was simple. He wore a suit all day, on every show to which he contributed. He always looked
correct and handsome, too. She had almost ripped his shirt buttons off trying to get at his skin five minutes ago. That would have messed up his polished look. Although doubtless he kept substitute shirts for emergencies in his office. All the on-air people did, including her. He would have had to button his suit jacket to cover his skin. Oh, god. His skin. It had been a year since she had touched the firm flesh of his belly, and now her fingers tingled from the memory. She’d felt the rough hairs there, the skin covering his hard muscles. She wanted Jason.
He wanted her, too. Maybe he even liked her. After all, he had pulled her in there to celebrate their new show. He had kissed her to share their triumph on a nonverbal level. It had felt good. Too good. Her thoughts were in a tailspin once more. She should concentrate on shaping the show.
Her more business-oriented ruminations were interrupted a few minutes later by a call from her mother. What did she want now? Couldn’t she leave Linley alone? Did she have to be in her business all the time? Still, she picked up. There might be an emergency.
“Linley, dear, how are you? It’s Mom.”
“I’m good. What’s up?” she said, trying to get her mother to the point before she started screaming.
“I had an idea. I have a project, and actually, it was Sarah’s idea to call you, and…” the nervousness in her mother’s voice was obvious.
Linley didn’t have time for her mother’s endless hesitation. “What?” Spit it out, will you?
“Could you help me with the nonprofit I’m setting up?” her mother said in a rush.
“You mean, donate to it?”
“No, no, dear. I’m not asking for your money.”
Would her mother ever get to the point? “Then what? I’m busy working.”
Finally, it all came out in a rush. “I’m sorry to interrupt, dear, but I need your expertise. You knew how to get us on that TV show. This nonprofit I’m creating is meant to help people who suffer catastrophic job losses. I was thinking maybe you could contact some people and see if they were interested in a follow-up interview, to talk about my charity?”
Not a bad idea. She was busy right now. Her mother’s project could wait a little. No. Maybe the publicity phone calls could serve a dual purpose by also leaking an announcement about her new show. Start building her some free buzz.
“You’re actually starting a charity?”
“Yes, I’m getting it incorporated next week. There’s lots to arrange and—”
Linley cut through her mother’s endless babbling.
“Call me when it’s a done deal and you have a website and a mission statement you can recite if Matt Lauer interviews you again. Once you’re ready, I’ll talk to my contact at the Today Show.”
“Oh. Oh, I see. Yes, you’re right, dear. I’ll get working on a mission statement immediately. Thank you so much, sweetie. You have a lovely day, you hear?” Her mother was practically gobbling, she was so grateful.
“You, too, Mom.” She said it reluctantly, knowing it was the right thing to say and the kind thing, too. Knowing she didn’t actually care if her mother had a lovely day. Because her mother’s days were all the same, boring and useless.
A surprise that her mother had this idea for a nonprofit. She must care a lot about her friend Magda. Which was strange, because she didn’t recall her mother ever mentioning Magda before they all got laid off two weeks ago. Not that she talked much to her mother.
Oh, wow. Once again, she’d forgotten to ask her mother if she was okay financially. Maybe she should call back or call Steve. Her brother probably knew. He and Mom were close. Or at least as close as his cold bitch of a wife let them be. Callie was such a typical upper middle class snob. Linley had no patience with her. None. She was spoiling her children, raising them with obsessive attention, like veal. Bet she scrapbooked every drawing they did in preschool. Poser.
#
Pam would not have described her daughter-in-law in such negative terms, although she also felt a little breath of cool air every time she met Callie. She always had to remind herself that Callie was a good woman who loved Steve and their two children.
Pam was surprised to receive a call from Callie, who seldom spoke to her directly. Not that Pam was keeping score or anything, but Callie’s immediate family unit was strong and there wasn’t much room in Steve and Callie’s life together for Pam to play a part. She saw her grandchildren less often than she liked. Given all the changes she was experiencing in her life, maybe this phone call was the harbinger of a new era in this relationship, too.
“How are you, dear? How are the children?”
“We’re good, Mother Ridgeway.”
She wished Callie would relax enough to call her by her name. Callie always stood on ceremony. She was an exceedingly proper young woman. She led Pam through a polite description of everybody’s doings. Pleasant as that was, Pam decided she’d had enough roundabout talking.
“What’s exciting at your house these days?”
“Actually, Steve and I were wondering if you could do us a large favor. We wouldn’t ask it of you except that we know that you don’t have a job—that is, that you have a little more free time right now than in the past.”
How tactful. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve been offered a wonderful opportunity. Steve’s employer wants to reward him with a bonus that includes a luxury trip to Tahiti. Wives go free. I want to go, but we can’t unless you can babysit the children.”
Callie explained why her own mother, who usually did quite a bit of babysitting because she lived near them in Roslyn, could not oblige this time. She had broken her leg and would be recovering in her own home for the next six weeks. Callie’s sister was moving in to nurse her. Of course Callie would not consider hiring a stranger to care for her children. Callie apologized profusely for asking Pam.
“No need to apologize. I would be delighted. When is this trip?”
“That’s the big problem, Mother Ridgeway, it’s the week after next.”
“Oh, you poor thing. I’ll bet you already have new swim suits and snorkeling gear packed.”
“I do.”
“Grandma to the rescue. I’ll be happy to help.” Within a few minutes, they had ironed out the details and arranged which day Pam would arrive. Callie was very organized, sometimes excessively organized. Having obtained what she wanted, she ended the phone call with further ritual protestations of gratitude.
Now this was more like it. No more hanging around in an empty house. She’d go to Steve and Callie’s a day before they left to observe and learn their routines. Callie was big on routines. Then they’d take off for their week in the South Seas. Then, on their return, she would debrief and leave. What a wonderful week they all would have.
She must think of some presents to bring the children. Grandmas had that privilege and responsibility. They were the dispensers of gifts. How much fun that would be? Something for Steve and Callie, too.
She called her mother to tell her.
Dorothy said, “You ought to bring those children out here to stay for the week. Let them run wild on the beach. The water’s too cold for swimming, but that won’t matter.”
Pam controlled a shudder. “I don’t think so. They have school.”
“It’s only elementary school. They can skip a week,” Dorothy said.
Pam was quite sure Callie would not want her two little ones pulled out of school to be near the dangerous ocean for a week. She was the type of woman who valued safety over adventure. Even though she and Steve were about to have a little adventure of their own. Pam wondered idly if Steve would use Tahiti to convince Callie they should have a third child? There had been a hint that he would like one the last time they’d had lunch. Maybe, amid all that beauty, Callie would relax a little. She always seemed so driven despite being a stay-at-home mom.
Her mother was speaking again. “Talk to Steve about letting the children come here to the beach for the weekend, at least.”
; “That might be acceptable. They’re biddable children, but the promise of a big treat will help make them more so.” If Callie didn’t object to what she might view as a bribe. Many times, Pam’s attempts to encourage the children to do something had been criticized as bribery, something Callie was set against. Pam didn’t think it harmed a child to be rewarded for good behavior, but she yielded to Callie’s rules. Being in charge of the children on her own would be relaxing.
Seeing Steve before and after the trip would be a bonus. He was an affectionate, if busy, son. He always had made a place in his schedule to lunch with her at least once or twice a month since they both worked in Manhattan. That would change now. Or perhaps not, if Pam made the effort to go into town often enough. Steve was worth the effort.
After Pam and her mother hung up, she puttered around, organizing clothing for the time away. It would be a different kind of visit from her stay at the beach with her mother. Strange, her recent visit had not been as awful as she’d expected. True, she and her mother had argued and she’d run away to walk on the beach. Afterwards, they’d managed not to rub each other the wrong way. Or more specifically, she had not gotten upset at her mother’s usual highhandedness and assurance that her way was the only method by which anything could be achieved. Or maybe it was because Pam had secretly enjoyed Dorothy stage-managing lunch with Bruce and then throwing them together on a picnic date. Only her mother could do that.
Bruce. Oh, Bruce. There was so much possibility. If she dared to follow through. They already had a date set up for her return on Thursday. The visit to that lovely botanical garden farther out on the island. Bruce had never been there, and she’d gone only once, many years ago. Walking around the garden would give them the opportunity to talk, or to be silent, and didn’t push them into a cliché, pressured dating situation. Which she simply could not bear the thought of doing again. She had not liked dating when she was young. Why go through those rigid, uncomfortable scenes all over again?
When Pam called Sarah to talk about how she disliked dating, Sarah disagreed.
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