It's News to Her

by Helen R. Myers

  “Feel free to read it out loud if you’d like,” he told her.

  “I don’t…thank you.”

  “You’re not turning shy on me, are you?”

  “That’s not the adjective that came to mind.”

  Cord smiled at how the ruder she wanted to be, the more polite she became. “I’m going to wear you down, you know. You’re going to end up liking me despite yourself.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Why, thank you. Want to shake on it?” He extended his hand.

  Looking from his hand to him, Hunter released her seat belt. “If you’ll excuse me, I really do need to focus on this speech. I’ll just take a seat in back where I can concentrate.”

  It was no surprise to find a limo was waiting for them upon landing. Hunter figured if Cord wanted a helicopter to get them to the school, it would have been waiting on the tarmac, too. They hadn’t spoken for over three hours, yet Cord acted as though it hadn’t been more than two minutes.

  “I’ve left directives with Chris to get some decent takeout for the flight home. If memory serves, you don’t like to eat before going on the air, do you?”

  Refusing to let him see that he’d managed to surprise her, Hunter murmured, “No.” Inwardly, however, she wondered where he’d learned that tidbit, or rather, who he’d interrogated for information about her? At least this was a full-length limousine, and the window was up between them and the driver—Cord’s regular driver, Phil.

  “Phil has taken over for the lease company’s chauffeur, and he’s already familiarized himself with the route.” Cord checked his watch. “Barring mechanical trouble or a traffic crisis, we’ll get you to the school right on schedule.”

  About forty minutes later, they pulled into the school’s driveway. Hunter had called to announce when they were only five minutes away, and a small entourage was waiting at the sidewalk to greet them.

  “Ms. Harding, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

  Hunter smiled and extended her hand to a thin, balding man who’d quickly dabbed his perspiring head and face as she’d stepped from the vehicle. It was as warm here as it was in Texas, but she suspected nerves had a great deal to do with his condition. She gave him an especially warm smile in the hopes of relaxing him. “It’s an honor to be asked to join you.”

  “I’m John Updike, unfortunately no relation to the original, but proudly principal of Mahwah High. And this is Denise Whitley, our office manager, and tonight’s amazing program chair.”

  “Mr. Updike, Ms. Whitley. I know these events are enormous undertakings and a scheduling challenge.” By the time Hunter shook hands with them, Cord had joined the group. “I’d like you to meet Cord Yarrow Rivers of Yarrow Communications, which owns KSIO. As I explained on the phone earlier, state-breaking news forced me to miss my earlier commercial flight. That’s when Mr. Rivers and his grandfather, Henry Yarrow, insisted on getting me up here on the corporate jet.”

  “We’re so grateful. This is a real treat,” John Updike said, vigorously shaking Cord’s hand. “What a coup for us.” He gestured to the building behind him. “We have a private room for you to freshen up, Ms. Harding, and we can take Mr. Rivers to the reception area where our other dignitaries are waiting to get started. I don’t suppose I have to warn you that some members of the press are also present?”

  “Including our New York affiliate, I hope,” Cord said.

  “Assuredly.”

  After that Hunter pretty much lost track of Cord, which wasn’t exactly a disappointment. The man was determined to make himself her chief focus, and she couldn’t deal with him right now. But that didn’t mean his words back at the Yarrow Building didn’t keep preying on her mind.

  “I’ve been thinking about you…and it’s time I did something about it.”

  “Oh, stop!” she whispered to herself.

  “Am I going too fast?” Principal Updike asked, holding up quickly as he led her to the press, who wanted as much time as she could give them.

  Hunter glanced over her shoulder. Ms. Whitley had said something about Cord being introduced to the superintendent of schools, the mayor and the school’s department heads and had led him in the opposite direction, but she still felt Cord’s presence as strongly as when he’d stood beside her with his hand at the small of her back. “Sorry, no. I just remembered something I needed to tell Co—Mr. Rivers, but I’ll do that after the interviews. Lead on, Mr. Updike.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she was finishing her chat with a second reporter when a pretty redhead her own age who had been lingering in the shadows came up, smiling shyly.

  “Hunter?”

  “Lisa—it’s you!” She reached for her old classmate and they hugged. “If you’d stepped into the light sooner, that gorgeous hair would have been a dead giveaway. How’ve you been?”

  “Fine, but you’re the one. How glamorous you look and what an incredible career you’re building for yourself. I’m so proud. I found you on Facebook, and I’ve been following your blog on the station’s website for some time.”

  “Then why didn’t you write?”

  The shorter woman shrugged and tugged on her white, cotton blazer that was a half size too small. “I didn’t want to intrude. You’re so busy. Besides, I didn’t want to bring up sad memories. And—” Lisa glanced over her shoulder with increased nervousness “—I married and I was afraid to tell you to who.”

  A tall man with wavy, brown hair and deep dimples stepped up beside her. “Hello, Hunter.”

  “Mike—you and Lisa? How great is that!” She hugged him, as well. “When did this happen?”

  “Six years and two girls ago,” they chimed in unison.

  Hunter pressed a hand to her heart. “Pictures?” When Lisa quickly flipped open her cell phone and showed her one of the two of them in Easter finery, Hunter cooed. “Lovely, they got your hair and Mike’s dimples. There is justice in this world.”

  Her former classmates looked delighted and relieved with her sincere pleasure for them. “Michelle is our firstborn and Vanessa is the younger one,” Lisa said.

  “We made a huge mistake and should have reversed the names,” Mike said.

  “Vanessa is a real tomboy,” Lisa said, taking over. “And we sometimes call her Nessa the Messa out of sheer despair, don’t we, honey? We should have named her Michelle and at least being called ‘Mitch’ wouldn’t be too bad, while Michelle is the epitome of what you expect a Vanessa to be—classy, mannered and the last person you’d find wrestling the neighbor’s son on the front lawn.”

  It was all Hunter could do to keep up. When she’d last seen them, Mike dreamed of pitching for the New York Mets, and Lisa wanted to open her own decorating shop. Her sixth sense that she’d honed since working in the business told her not to ask how close they’d come to achieving their dreams.

  “That sounds like real life to me,” she replied. “‘Make a plan and watch God laugh.’”

  Lisa beamed at her husband. “Isn’t this like old times? Remember Hunter always validated a thought with a pertinent quote.”

  “In other words, I was Queen Nerd,” Hunter said with a self-deprecating laugh.

  “No, you made us feel better about a moment and ourselves. The world was stable if you were there to put things in perspective.” Growing wistful, Lisa touched her sleeve. “What about you? I was hoping you would meet someone as great as your dad and be married, too.”

  Against her will, Cord’s face flashed before Hunter, and she vigorously shook her head. “No time.” She added a shrug and perfected her airy tone. “My boss keeps my schedule pretty full.”

  “Is he the distinguished guy standing behind you looking like he just stole Manhattan from Donald Trump?”

  Hunter didn’t bother turning to check. “That’s the one.” Wondering why he wasn’t still with the other group, she felt that increasingly familiar hand at her waist. She immediately said, “Cord Yarrow Rivers, these are my two dearest friends from school before we moved, Lis
a and Mike O’Neal.”

  “A pleasure—and it’s Cord,” he said, shaking hands with both of them. “I hate to intrude with anything that puts a smile on Hunter’s face after such a draining day, but Principal Updike says they need to seat her.”

  “Oh, dear—do you think you’ll have time to meet afterward, Hunter? We’d hoped to take you both out for a drink or dinner?”

  Hunter winced. “I wish, Lis, but we have to get back to Texas tonight. I have another on-air must tomorrow morning.” Hunter quickly dug out a card from her purse. “Here’s my card. Call or email me and let’s see if we can try to hook up again.”

  “I’d love to. Just getting to hug you again means more than I can tell you.”

  As the ceremonies began, Hunter lost Cord again. She finally spotted him staying close to their sister station’s reporter and camera crew. After that, she went into work mode.

  She wasn’t nervous. She’d already experienced too many emergency live shots to easily unravel over something this planned, and when she finally stood amid friendly, but not riotous, applause, she understood the restraint completely. This was the kids’ day, and speeches were a necessary evil to them. Seventy-five percent of them didn’t know her from their state senators, unless they had taken a glimpse inside their programs. More wouldn’t remember a thing she said, especially if she was formal and somber. On the other hand, if she was too lighthearted, the town leaders and school staff would regret having touted her as the school’s current highest achiever. Hoping to strike a happy medium, she listened as Principal Updike introduced her, and then she rose and set her leather binder on the dais.

  “Mayor Steel, Principal Updike, Superintendent Bradshaw, esteemed guests and graduating class—it’s been a whirlwind day, but trust me, being here with you is still the high point.”

  The students erupted in cheers and whistles. A good start—she could almost hear them thinking—it’s about us.

  “A few hours ago, I was in Texas trying to keep career politicians and strategists—some of the top movers and shakers in the state and country—from gobbling up precious air time with their spin, and now I’m here looking at your vibrant, intelligent faces eager to charge toward the rest of your lives. That’s the speed at which the world is spinning.

  “But for a twist of fate, I would have once sat in one of those chairs—where are you H’s?” As a few kids whooped and waved, Hunter pointed and smiled. “There you are. You girls are doing way cuter things with your hair than we did ten years ago.”

  After another few laughs and one brave male senior calling “Looking hot, Hunter!” she grinned back and suggested, “I promise any of you with a strong science background that the world is your oyster if you can just develop good hair products that can withstand twelve-to sixteen-hour days under hot lights and Gulf heat and humidity.”

  Then she grew slightly more somber, “Wherever you go, whatever you do, never stop believing in your dreams or challenging yourself. When I lost my father on the eve of the junior prom, I struggled to believe that things would ever be bearable again. Sometimes it was rough, even though I had a great relationship with my mother, and we were fortunate that my father had planned for such a catastrophe, so money wasn’t our top concern. But it is for many.

  “The thing is that Mom was hurting, too, and suddenly had her hands full, becoming the sole provider of a teenage daughter who was expecting to get a car, go to college, gain her independence. My mother was so shattered, she was afraid to let me out of her sight even to go to classes. I knew I needed more input, more help than my steady and sturdy grandparents. The church and my new school’s counselors helped. Mentoring is always there if you’ll open the door to the idea and just ask. That’s how I came to KSIO. I wrote Mr. Henry to ask why he didn’t have an internship program, and he called me and said, ‘Come and be our lab experiment.’”

  That comment and her comic, openmouthed look of terror won her laughs and more applause.

  “Well, that dear man became my next mentor and slowly the world turned right-side up again. In the decade since I left Mahwah, I’ve had the privilege to interview two governors, one president, several Academy Award winners, a Nobel Prize winner and way too many wounded soldiers returning from war. I’m going to guess that I don’t need to tell you which of them impressed and inspired me the most?”

  There were more cheers and someone shouted, “Go Army!” Amid cheers someone else shouted, “Oorah, marines!”

  The applause and cheers rose to a roar. It was clear that a number of kids were entering the military instead of enrolling in college. Hunter nodded and called back, “God bless and thank you for your service, ladies and gentlemen.”

  As she drew to a close, she said, “And so, be curious, be open to new ideas and weigh other perspectives with the respect they deserve, but never allow yourself to wake up one morning without remembering the enthusiasm for life you feel today or lose sight of your core values. And for goodness’ sake, never leave home without sun block or hand sanitizer! Congratulations, graduates!”

  The stadium thundered with cheers and applause. Principal Updike rejoined her at the podium to take her hand within both of his. “That was refreshing and insightful.”

  “Well, a touch of levity makes the medicine go down easier.”

  It took another hour before the ceremonies were over and the awards and diplomas distributed. Then it was an hour after that before Cord and Hunter made it as far as the limo.

  Once they were on their way back to the airport, Cord pulled at the knot in his tie. “Well done—again. How you managed to keep the excitement level up after having put in the long day you did, I don’t know.”

  “Not everyone would agree with you. I saw a couple of yawns down there in the graduate pit,” she drawled, fidgeting in her impulse to slide her shoes off of her aching feet.

  “I’m pulling rank—you’re not permitted to nitpick yourself tonight. Besides, not everyone is going to grow up to be a rocket scientist or even a hair stylist.”

  She would be foolish not to appreciate the compliment, but Hunter had her own grading level for herself. “Yes, but I was judging myself, not the audience.”

  “I would expect you to say nothing less modest.” Up front, Lane called ahead to the plane to let them know they were on their way while Cord checked the small refrigerator. “Thirsty? I know the bar in this thing comes stocked with champagne.”

  “Water for now, please. I’m as dry as if I read them the entire Sunday edition of The New York Times. I might take a glass of bubbly on the plane if you meant it about feeding me on the way home.”

  Hunter eagerly accepted the cool bottle he handed her. As she drank, she glanced out her window to see how much of her surroundings she remembered. It was dark, and traffic was heavy due to other graduation ceremonies in the area. The many parties were adding to the usual congestion for this outer wing of one of the country’s major metropolitan areas. While Hunter had enjoyed herself, she was glad the day was over. The celebrity part of this business drained her of energy as much as flying chiseled at her nerves. She understood the need for it, but it still left her physically and emotionally depleted.

  “Please forgive my informality,” she said abruptly, “but I give up. I have to get these off.” She leaned forward and slipped off her shoes.

  Cord murmured his approval. “Thank goodness, you’re human after all. I wondered how you managed over fifteen hours in those things. Fred says most of the time you ditch them the minute you slide into your anchor seat.”

  “Fred is going to be told that he talks too much,” Hunter replied. But she said it with affection for her producer.

  “All of it is praise. He’s almost as crazy about you as my grandfather is. I’m going to suggest to him that he and Tom discuss a behind-the-scenes segment and show what all is involved for you as you prepare for your programs every day.”

  “Isn’t TV littered enough with reality shows?” Hunter asked before taking a lo
ng swallow of water.

  “Yes, but we’re not talking about junk, sex and gossip.” Cord turned halfway in his seat to face her. “Reporting has taken a black eye over the years, and journalists are often disliked and distrusted as much as politicians and lawyers.”

  “So you want me to be a cheerleader for the industry? I’ll beg you to fire me first. A better idea would be to put young people on TV to encourage their peers to vote. It’s pitiful that in this day and age more senior citizens are voting than people under the age of twenty-five.”

  “Can’t argue with you there,” Cord replied. “Maybe we’ll start doing something with local schools. Be careful, you may have just earned yourself more work.”

  Hunter saluted him with her bottle. “Believe me, that kind of assignment would be a treat.”

  “Because you’re that civic-minded or you like kids as much as you seem to?”

  “Both.”

  “Do you plan to have your own someday?”

  Well, that didn’t take long, she thought. “There you go, diving into personal information again.”

  Undeterred, Cord said, “I’ll take that as an affirmative. You all but cooed over your former schoolmates’ pictures of their children.”

  “Because the last time I saw Lisa and Mike, we were discussing Lisa getting her driver’s license, while my mother insisted I should wait until we got to Texas. I had no idea they were together, let alone had children. It was a nice surprise.”

  “Was it? He’s the one who was supposed to take you to the junior prom that you didn’t attend, right?”

  “That really didn’t take much deductive reasoning, Mr. Rivers.”

  “What’s it going to take for you to call me Cord?”

  More hypnosis, she thought. “We’re not friends.”

  “We will be if you’ll stop being so stubborn.” When Hunter opened her mouth to reply, he quickly added, “Okay, as your boss, I give you a free pass whenever we’re alone to call me Cord.”