A Daughter's a Daughter

by Irene Vartanoff

  “I want to talk about my foundation, don’t forget.”

  “Right. We can work that in.”

  “It’s called the Bright Side.”

  “Why that name?”

  “Because the purpose of the foundation is to find a bright side to catastrophic job loss by providing interim economic assistance.”

  “Not a bad mission statement. I’ll get right on presenting the idea to my contact at the Today Show.” Her mother had gotten it together after all. Surprising. Impressive, even.

  “Thank you, dear. You always did have a way with words.”

  Again that warm glow. What the heck? How long had it been since she cared how her mother made her feel? Since she had tried to help her mother do anything?

  What a surprising reaction to her mother’s praise. Linley was still thinking about it later. How unusual it was for her mother to be active in a cause. What was it about Magda that had galvanized Pam to act? She was normally a shrinking violet.

  Jason called. She didn’t give him a chance to open his mouth.

  “Jason, don’t you dare ask—”

  “Chill, babe. I got the word on something important. Why don’t you meet me at Benny’s, and we can talk about it?”

  “Why don’t you jump off a cliff?” She wasn’t going to be suckered into a hookup. Being near him was dangerous.

  “What’s wrong with Benny’s? You like pizza. They’ve got pizza.”

  She swore she could hear him smiling. “Don’t be dense. You went crazy on me today.”

  “Crazy?”

  “You know. In the file room.”

  “If you didn’t like it, why did you kiss me back, feel me up and practically rip my shirt out of my pants?”

  “I’m about to click off,” she said, not wanting to be tempted by remembering the details of their hot minute in the file room. Her body was heating up all over again.

  “Okay, okay. Listen, Marty sent me an email. We need to talk about it.”

  “Just forward his email. I’ll buzz you back if I have any comment.”

  She could hear his exasperation. “Have it your way. Forwarding right now. Stay on the phone, dammit.”

  She opened her computer, which she’d had in sleep mode while talking to her mom. She didn’t bother to fill the dead air on the phone while she waited for the message to come in. Then it did, and she read it quickly. Oh, my god.

  Jason,

  It would help build interest in the new show if you and Linley were seen together socially. Curiosity about your personal relationship will boost the ratings.

  Tell Linley about this idea.

  Marty

  “No. No way.” She couldn’t believe it. What a lame idea. “Marty’s being an idiot. We could sue him over this. It’s harassment, creating an uncomfortable workplace environment.”

  “I think we’d be very comfortable together,” his voice came over seductively. Memories of how well they fit together earlier today arose, but she fought them off.

  “That’s not the point. We see enough of each other already.”

  “Come on, it’s not a big deal. We’d go to a couple of media parties and hang.”

  “Why does that sound familiar?” she wondered out loud, sarcasm in every syllable. “Oh, I remember. Because that’s how we met last year. And ended up in a hotel room, banging our brains out.”

  “Not that there’s anything wrong with it,” he put in.

  “Whatever.”

  “Marty may be skirting the political correctness line here, but would it be such a bad thing to try to stir up advance interest in our new show?” Jason was using his “fair-minded moderator” voice.

  “Marty is suggesting boring crap that’ll eat into our time and produce nothing but media chatter, not the big buzz we need,” she said. “I respect and admire Marty, at least I did until he came up with this trashy scheme, but he is old. He doesn’t get how word spreads today.”

  “So let’s do some social media. Whatever’s newest and hottest.”

  She said, “The problem with that is the core audience of WFWF. It skews too old for social media to be the main info source. What about a video?”

  “One that goes viral. That could work.”

  “We can’t make a video go viral,” she reminded him. “It happens or doesn’t on its own.”

  “Plus, videos aren’t exactly cutting edge.” Jason’s frustration was evident in his voice.

  “A video is a much better idea than wasting time pretending we’re an item,” she snapped back.

  She shook back her hair, and unbuttoned her blouse a couple of buttons. It had been a long day already.

  “Okay, a video,” he said. “What do you want in it?”

  Nice he was asking her instead of telling her. “Ideally, we come up with a winning idea. Then we sell Marty on financing it.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Can you do something about Marty? I’m not comfortable talking to him about this.” Especially because he usually made her feel like she was about thirteen years old and hadn’t done her homework.

  “Sure, Lin,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I’ll handle Marty.”

  “Without telling him he’s out of it?”

  “I’ll break it to him gently that he’s an old fart.”

  “Jason,” she said in a warning tone.

  “Kidding. Lighten up, will you? I’ll tell him we’re planning a YouTube video and that we will dine out at some gossip hole to discuss it.”

  “Tactful of you.” Marty could believe they were following his dictum, sort of. Meanwhile, they weren’t jamming YouTube down his throat, reminding him that the Internet and its cadre of younger people now drove the media.

  They agreed to come up with their ideas within the next two days before attending a media meet-and-greet where they could be seen and could discuss the plan.

  What an insane day. As she finally put on her preferred nightwear, a girly nightgown, she thought back to all that had happened. Marty had offered them a show of their own. Wow. Jason had kissed her, not once, but twice. Double wow. They were going to pretend to date, on their terms, and do a video together. Squee.

  She would be running in several directions at once for the foreseeable future. The new show, the old show, her other shows. Better start looking for some video ideas. Her mother’s foundation, shouldn’t forget that. She must check the AP wire and other feeds for news alerts relevant to tomorrow’s shows. Decide what angle to pitch to get that second media spot featuring her plus Mom and Magda. Then maybe some sleep.

  #

  In his apartment, Jason covered the same mental territory while he worked out with weights. Late night was about the only time he could grab for exercise after a brief morning run. He had to compete visually with other men in the media, so exercise was mandatory. Much as he always disliked the reps at the beginning, within a few minutes, he felt a sense of well-being. The reps also chilled him out so he could sleep.

  The boring exercises gave him time to think clearly. He’d let his excitement and enthusiasm run away with him a couple of times today. Oh, he’d held it together while they were meeting with Marty. He’d been professional, showing the right mix of eagerness and gratitude. Afterwards, he couldn’t contain himself and he hadn’t wanted to.

  His next step up had happened at last. He could parley this duet show into his launching pad for the big time. He knew it. He had the talent. He’d built the following. He was ready. The network had recognized him without him having to negotiate. Which meant the step after this one would be his game entirely.

  Who better to share the excitement with than Lin? Damn shame someone had rattled the door handle of the file room. Linley had been as hot as he was. They would have been having sex in another thirty seconds. There was something about her. The way she looked, the glow of her skin, her scent, the whole combo. He’d gone beyond merely being interested in the sex. He wanted her. Maybe she had her crazy side, but he didn’t care. He could d
eal.

  She was acting elusive. She wouldn’t even come out tonight to talk because he’d kissed her again in the elevator. Didn’t she understand? Neither of them could talk openly about their big break to anyone else. She had to be feeling the same intense excitement. He had felt it when he kissed her. It had felt good. He was glad he’d kissed her. Given a chance, he’d do it again. And more.

  Chapter 20

  Dorothy drove into town for her substitute hair appointment. She carefully parked her car at the end of the public lot to avoid hitting anyone else with her boat of a Buick, and then headed for the main street on which all the shops faced. When she got to the sidewalk fronting the main street, she looked up and down and could not find the hair salon. She started walking east, past the grocery and the post office. Surely the salon was over here?

  No. It did not appear to be. Or maybe she had missed it, simply passed it by as she was walking? She had reached the end of the prettied-up section with all the flower boxes and benches and fancy streetlights with little seasonal flags on them. The salon was part of this downtown. She must have missed it. She turned around and retraced her steps. After she passed the public parking lot, she slowed a bit because by now her feet were getting a little tired and she still had not found what she was looking for. She passed many handsome shops, but none of them was what she wanted.

  She reached the other end of the downtown restoration section. A fancy name for throwing up a few pots of flowers, some benches, and some antique-look streetlamps. At least the trashcans looked clean with their extravagant ironwork exteriors. Frank Lloyd Wright’s Chicago style had come back into fashion. The benches were ironwork in the same squared style. Her feet were a little tired. She sat down on a bench for a bit of a rest.

  After a while, she heard a bark. She startled. Had she dozed off? There was a dear little dog, a wire-hair fox terrier. Like the one she had given Greta’s son long ago. Why was she thinking about Greta? What was she doing sitting on a bench in town?

  The dog came up to her and sniffed excitedly, barking.

  “Yappie, behave,” a man called. “Or you go back on the leash.”

  Of course. Yappie. Her little neighbor dog. She petted him.

  Bruce Wicklow looked at her, obviously puzzled. “We’re just coming from the town park. I thought I’d check out the local landmarks. Are you waiting for someone, Dorothy?”

  Oh, dear. Best put a good face on it. “Not exactly. I have a hair appointment. I was a little early so I decided to sit out here.”

  “I think the hair salon is on the other side of the street, a few blocks down,” he said.

  She didn’t like the odd look he was giving her. She stood. “I’ll head there now.”

  “Please let Yappie and me escort you.” He offered his arm.

  She accepted gracefully, and they put Yappie on the leash since they were walking toward the more populous part of the main street.

  They had a lovely chat. She was only five minutes late for the girl. Bruce even tied Yappie up and came into the salon with her and spoke to the salon owner before he said goodbye.

  When her hair was done, the owner insisted on seeing her to her car. “You were my first client, after all. You deserve concierge service,” the woman said, smiling. Her name wasn’t coming to Dorothy just at the moment. Yet she was certain they had known each other for a comfortable long time.

  Once she was in her car, Betty—that was her name, of course—said, “Now you be careful driving home, Dorothy. Remember to turn left at the first light.”

  She nodded to her old friend, “Of course, dear.” She didn’t see what Betty’s fuss was about. She was perfectly capable of driving home. Although right now, the landscape looked very unfamiliar. There were so many new houses. They seemed to have sprung up like mushrooms after a rainy spell. Here was a whole new community of homes. She didn’t live there. She lived by the beach. She should find the road to the beach.

  Was this her road? She drove down a twisty lane populated with postwar houses. Her house was old, too. Like her. This was tiring. She could use a rest. She’d been driving and driving. Now she was back in the middle of town. How had she managed that?

  Then a little flash came to her. Turn here. Of course. Ah, there was a familiar sight, the town park with its little lake. She must take the left turn. Not right.

  It was a nice day for a drive. She passed a lot of new houses. When had all these houses been built? They seemed to have sprung up like mushrooms after a rainy spell. Now she took the turnoff here.

  Ah, at last, there was her own house. When had she painted it yellow? Such a cheery color, but quite a daring one, too, for this conservative community. Well, she liked to shake things up.

  It was good to be at her own home, where everything was familiar. She parked the car and opened the door. She was exhausted. She had gotten a little confused in town. Maybe she would stick to ordering taxis from now on.

  #

  Bruce peeked through his curtains and saw Dorothy had finally arrived at her house. If she had been any longer, he would have gone looking for her. He and Yappie had found her obviously lost. She’d been dignified and clever about hiding her confusion, but he’d seen through it. His ex-mother-in-law, now passed away, had dementia in her later years and used to get lost near her home. That was before they caught on. A couple of times, he and Carol had to go find her. He knew the drill.

  Why did some families get struck by this plague and others escape? Aunt Nora was completely together. Except for her obsession about his parents. Uncle Joe had been mentally all there until his death, too. There was no way of predicting what his own later years would be like since he knew nothing about his blood father’s family. If Dorothy did know something about Roger Dietrich, he’d better ask her soon before forgetting became a way of life for her.

  He ought to call Pam and insist she make some arrangements. That day they’d first met, she hadn’t taken up the idea of a plan for her mother’s care. Maybe Pam was the kind of person who didn’t like other people’s suggestions. For Dorothy’s sake, he hoped not. The gallant old lady shouldn’t have to depend on chance help. Although he’d found the salon owner to be cooperative when he’d suggested she walk Dorothy to her car. Betty was her name. Nice woman. Attractive with her red hair and generous curves. He might have found her more interesting if he wasn’t sure Pam was the right woman for him.

  They said men were impulsive, that when they met a woman for the first time, they often declared she was the one. That’s how he felt about Pam. It was a surprise. His relationship with Carol had developed in a much slower manner. After finding some things in common, they’d eventually realized they wanted a future together.

  It had worked for a long time. Even now, he wasn’t sure what exactly had gone wrong. Whatever spark there had been at first had been smothered by all the work of raising their children and running a home. By the constant pressure of employment. There always were many reasons to be somewhere other than their home. In the later years, his conference schedule and Carol’s as an educator consultant had started to send them away from home several weekends a month. This went on for a long time before they finally realized there was no home left. Just a place to do laundry and sleep. It was a sad realization after so many years together, but it was a relief not to have to try to mesh his schedule with Carol’s.

  Strangely, when it was over, the first thing he had done was pare back his traveling schedule dramatically. He had switched to writing books, which kept him at home most of the time. He didn’t do science conferences anymore. He got his new scientific information on the web. He’d done exactly one short media tour for his publisher, and only under pressure after the book had hit the best-seller list. Television and a little radio thrown in for good measure did help sales. Most of the time now, he simply stayed home, as he had never done with Carol, who herself was seldom home. Pam struck him as the kind of woman who liked to stay home. Restful.

  #

&nb
sp; Pam was feeling anything but restful as she grappled with calling Magda to tell her about the money. It was so difficult to initiate a phone call. She didn’t know why. She had always felt shy about phoning. Yet Magda was someone she had seen nearly every day for years. There shouldn’t be any hesitation.

  “I have good news,” she started.

  “We have our jobs back?” Magda asked. Obviously, that’s where her mind was. No surprise.

  “I don’t think that’s possible. The company is bankrupt.”

  “Ah, I must find the new job. I have been looking every day. Nothing.” The edge of Magda’s accent was heavier as she said the words, signaling her discouragement. Hopefully Pam’s news would perk her up.

  “Something good has come of that television appearance in which I mentioned you and Marc. Many people have sent you money in care of the show.”

  “Oh, Lord be praised!”

  “I don’t know the total,” she said, careful this time to err on the cautious side, “but with luck, it will add up to enough to keep Marc at Harvard until the foundation can help.”

  Magda’s gratitude turned to tears. When she’d managed to stop sobbing, they agreed on possible times to meet to collect the windfall.

  “Magda, the money is a gift. It doesn’t affect your unemployment compensation and you don’t have to report it on your income taxes because you did nothing to earn it.” She’d called her lawyer to be sure.

  “How wonderful, how blessed the people of this country are. How generous and kind.” Magda said a heartfelt goodbye.

  It was the truth. People opened their hearts and gave what they could spare. She had felt good reporting such welcome news to Magda. She wanted to give other people the same hope and happiness. She must make this foundation a success. If it meant ignoring her dislike of the telephone, and even speaking in public, then she’d make herself perform those tasks. She had to see this through.

  To that end, she consulted the clock and then cast aside her usual trepidation about contacting her daughter. Just a quick call.