Alexandra Waring (29 page)

“That DBS is being awfully slow about payouts on the miniseries. Is that going to happen to us?”

Langley shook his head. “We are slow on the miniseries, but that’s because of the production moving overseas. Financial transactions have to go overseas and then come back into this country—that’s all,” he said, lowering his eyes to his coffee. “That’s why we’re having the review this summer.”

“Mom,” Henry said, coming in. “Sorry—but Dad wanted to make sure I sent his rowing machine. Do you know where it is?”

“It’s right where he left it eight years ago—in the basement,” she said. “Sorry, Langley—you were saying.”

Langley turned around to make sure Henry was gone before continuing. “We’d like to strengthen DBS News’ financial outlook by consolidating production of The Jessica Wright Show’ under you. You’ll be named president of news and information and—”

Cassy waved her hand through the air. “Wait, wait, wait, wait a minute.” She dropped her hand and looked at him. “Why are we consolidating production?”

“Because Jessica can pay a lot of your bills—”

“Let me get this straight,” Cassy said. “You’re going to let me drain the profits of ‘The Jessica Wright Show’ to make DBS News look better for a corporate review this summer?”

“Not drain—” Langley started to say. Seeing Cassy’s expression, he shrugged. “Essentially, yes.”

“Why?”

“Sorry—” Henry said, reappearing in the doorway.

Cassy looked over.

“Do I have to call the super or something to get into the basement?”

“Yes, sweetheart. His number’s in the book.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Langley waited a moment to make sure Henry was gone. And then he leaned forward to say, “This is purely a preventive move—one we’re taking only to make sure that DBS News is not interfered with in any way by the board.”

“Why should it be interfered with?”

And so Langley explained that one of Jackson’s brothers would be stepping down from the board, thus altering the balance of the vote and reducing the majority who had originally endorsed the idea of DBS News to the minority. And since DBS News had been launched much earlier than originally planned, and was actually twice the size of what had originally been approved, they were simply making sure that DBS News would be left alone.

Cassy was looking at Langley like he was crazy.

“What?” he said.

“There’s got to be more to it than that,” she said evenly.

“All we’re doing is asking you to consolidate your position and get promoted in the process,” Langley said.

“Langley,” Cassy said, leaning forward in her chair, “what you’re asking me to do is help you defraud the board. That’s what you’re asking me to do—to skew the numbers between news and entertainment.”

“No, no, Cassy,” Langley said quickly, reaching across the table to touch her wrist. “We want you to consolidate them as a financially attractive investment—as our initial block of in-studio programming—and do it in such a way so as to discourage anyone from thinking of trying to separate them.”

“And going after the vulnerable one,” she said, blinking rapidly. “Which would be DBS News.”

“Really, Cassy,” Langley said, “the only reason why we’re asking you to do this is to clear the way for smooth sailing.”

“It must be the Virginia Woolf school of sailing then,” Cassy said, “because it seems like every time I turn around I catch Jackson putting rocks in my pockets.”

“No, that’s wrong,” Langley said. “It’s absolutely wrong. I know you think otherwise, but Jack is a tremendous supporter of yours.”

“Oh, right!” Cassy said, slapping the table and throwing her head back to laugh.

“I’m serious, Cassy,” Langley said. “Regardless of your personal differences and conflicts over Alexandra, he has no doubts about your capabilities and contribution.” After a moment, “Cassy—Cassy, listen to me.”

She stopped laughing and brought her head back down, wiping the trace of a tear from one eye. And then, sniffing once, her expression grew quite serious. “No, you listen to me, Langley,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning forward. “I will do this, Langley—I will do whatever you tell me I have to do in order to protect my people, to protect their jobs, and to protect our collective future. And I will now work to protect Jessica and her people too. But I’ve got to tell you, Langley, I don’t like it—and I don’t like how arbitrarily you guys trade on the good faith of the people you lured to DBS. As for Alexandra—”

“Jack’s going to talk to her himself about it first thing Wednesday.”

“Wednesday,” Cassy repeated, thinking.

“And there’s something else, Cassy,” Langley said. “About you, and why Jack wants to do this.”

Cassy looked down at first her one side and then her other, murmuring, “Just checking for rocks.”

Langley smiled. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but I will. Before the year is out, Jack is hoping to make you president of DBS. Turn the whole operation over to you.”

Cassy looked up, stunned.

Langley’s smile expanded. “So you see? We do have other reasons for wanting to put Jessica’s show in your hands now.”

“But what about you?” she finally managed to say.

“Oh, I’ll be running Darenbrook Electronics. And you and I will be doing a lot of business together over the years. You know, Cassy, we had more than one reason for naming the network DBS.” He paused. “It’s also the nickname for the direct broadcasting system—transmitting from satellite directly into homes. And we’re ready to do that now. The day a home is equipped to receive is the day we can broadcast directly. And five years down the road I’m going to have a whole slew of interactive programming to offer DBS, Cassy.” He paused, his smile expanding further. “Imagine the possibilities for the news division if DBS were the first broadcasting network to have spontaneous interaction with its viewership.”

“We could take the pulse of the country at any given moment,” Cassy murmured.

“But the big plan, Cassy, the real dream behind this effort—
my
dream
…
” he said, voice trailing off.

Their eyes connected.

“As Xerox was to carbon paper, DBS will be to broadcast television,” he said. “It’s not really a network we’re building—it’s a technological revolution.” He waved his hand through the air. “But that’s the dream. The reality is, for the moment, DBS is a struggling venture which Jack and I both believe could flourish under your direction.”

After a long moment Cassy laid a hand on her chest, looked down at the table and said, “I never
…
” She looked up. “I came to DBS to be near the newsroom again.”

“And you’ve been building the network instead,” Langley said.

They were both quiet for a while, smiling, looking at one another.

Then there was a crash in the kitchen.

“What was that?” she called.

“Nothing, Mom. I’m just moving a box to the front hall.”

Cassy looked at Langley. “Could I possibly interest you in taking a walk?”

It was a gorgeous day, this first Saturday in May, and they walked out of the building, across the Drive to the brick esplanade under the trees, and then took the steep concrete stairs down into Riverside Park. As they made their way down the hillside and through the glen, they talked on about the consolidation, and paused for a long while at the flats of the community garden, looking at all of the flowers. (“This park is so beautiful—I had no idea,” Langley said, looking up to see how the apartment buildings on the ridge of the Drive towered over the tops of the trees in the park.) They strolled to the end of the gardens, went down some old stone stairs, walked through a tunnel underneath the West Side Highway and came out on a lovely promenade running along the edge of the river.

The Hudson was blue today. At eye level, the twelve hundred yards of water across made New Jersey seem miles away. The wind was light and sea gulls were screaming overhead, and the afternoon sun, moving down toward New Jersey, felt warm on their faces as they walked south along the promenade, hands in their jacket pockets.

After a while they stopped to lean on the wood railing and look out across the Hudson. Eyes dropping to the water lapping against the rocks below, Cassy noticed her engagement ring and wedding ring on her hand, and wondered when or if she shouldn’t take them off. It felt very strange to think about this, about taking off the rings she had been wearing every day of her life for over twenty-two years. It gave her a sick, hollow feeling inside and so she looked up and took a deep breath—drawing in that funny mixture of salty sea air from the south, the harbor, and the fresh-water-and-greenery smell from the river north—and it helped make the awful feeling go away. And the sun, so warm on her face, and the breezes, playing with her hair, felt lovely.

“Can you keep a secret?” Langley asked her.

Cassy looked at him. He was looking overhead at the circling gulls, the breezes playing with his hair too. She was struck by how pale he looked, how alien he seemed to the outdoors. She wondered when was the last time he had had a vacation—and what he did when he took one. “Sure,” she said.

Langley looked straight out across the water, still leaning on the railing, holding his hands together in front of him. “Ever since you people arrived at West End,” he began. And then he stopped, looking down at his hands.

“Tell me,” Cassy said, moving a little closer to him, sliding her elbows along the railing.

“I’ve been having fun,” Langley said. He looked up, back out over the water. “I complain all the time, I know, but truth is—” He turned to look at her. “We weren’t having much fun around there—at Darenbrook Communications. Not since Jack’s wife died. It all changed then. Jack changed. Everyone changed.” He looked back at the water, thinking. “And I’m beginning to think that maybe it is Alexandra. That she’s making things come alive again—making people feel alive again.
Provoked
, certainly,” he added, laughing to himself. “God knows, she sure gets Jack all worked up and me worked up and you
…
”

“I love her very much,” Cassy said with a smile, closing her eyes and angling her face toward the sun.

“And it’s exciting these days, you know?” Langley said. “Even with all the problems, all the headaches.”

Cassy opened her eyes and shielded them with her hand to get a good look at him. And then she smiled again and leaned over to nudge him. “And the best part’s to come. You haven’t lived until the day you walk by a TV store and see Alexandra on the set in the window. Or Jessica. And watch people watching. ‘I helped make this happen,’ you say to yourself. This is what I do for a living.’” She laughed, softly, bending to rest the side of her head on the railing a moment. “It’s a little like motherhood.”

“I guess,” Langley said, sounding distracted. And then he looked down at Cassy. “You’re very special, you know.”

Cassy hesitated, blinked twice and said, “Thank you,” straightening up. “I think you are too.”

“No,” Langley said, touching her arm, “I mean it. It’s been a long time since I’ve known someone like you.”

Cassy smiled faintly, turning to look out across the water.

After a long moment Langley said, “I haven’t offended you, have I?”

“Of course not,” she said gently, glancing at him. “Actually,” she added a second later, turning toward him, resting one elbow on the railing, “I was thinking about Jackson’s interest in Alexandra.”

Langley looked a little surprised by this.

“I worry about him,” Cassy said, “about his reaction down the road when he finds out about Alexandra and Gordon. It’s one thing to keep it quiet from the public for now and cash in on the publicity about Jackson—but it’s quite another to keep him in the dark about it if he’s seriously interested in her—if he genuinely
…
” She shrugged.

“I know his interest in her is real,” Langley said slowly, “but I’m not convinced anything else is. Jack can get a little star-struck sometimes.”

“Don’t we all,” Cassy murmured, turning back to the railing and leaning on it with both arms. After thinking a moment, she looked at Langley. “Someone told me that Alexandra’s a lot like Barbara—like his first wife.”

“His only wife,” Langley said. And then he started chuckling to himself, bowing his head to hold it in his hand for a moment. “Oh, God, no,” he said, smiling still, bringing his head back up. “Alexandra’s nothing like Barbara.”

“Oh,” Cassy said, turning back to look at the water.

“Barbara was just like you,” he said.

20
Langley’s Luncheon

“I’m sorry,” Kate Benedict said, standing by Langley’s table in the upstairs dining room of the “21” Club, “but Alexandra said she has to have some sort of an answer in writing.”

Langley nodded, rereading Alexandra’s note, marveling to himself how quickly their young anchorlady could move and still maintain the illusion around West End that she “didn’t have a head for business.” Nonsense. Alexandra looked after her business the same way she looked after the business of gathering news she surrounded herself with excellent people whom she could trust to accurately inform her. So, instead of reporters and newswriters, Alexandra’s crack attorney, agent and probably her accountant as well had helped prepare this note—and in record time. Alexandra had been told of Cassy’s promotion to president of DBS news and information only this morning and already she was playing hardball in response.

Mr. Graham, who was sitting across the table at “21” from Langley, was frowning. “Miss Waring must be very upset if she sent this young lady all the way here,” he said.

“Yep, she is,” Kate confirmed. “Like your bow tie, Mr. Graham.”

“Miss Waring is upset about my bow tie?” Mr. Graham said, forehead furrowing.

“No,” Kate said, “I was just remarking on how much I like it.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Mr. Graham said, touching it with his hand.

Langley listened to this exchange, thinking how the day was getting stranger by the minute. He was supposed to have had lunch with Gordon Strenn and Sven Hagerström, a Swedish producer, but when they arrived at the restaurant there was a message that Hagerström had fallen ill. Gordon then begged off from lunch, saying he really could use the time to run up to FAO Schwarz to see if he could find a special building set for his son’s birthday. And so Langley had been standing there, in the foyer of “21,” debating whether to eat alone or not, when Alexandra’s mysterious personal employee, Mr. Graham, came strolling in just as he had for thirty-three years, the maître d’ said) and Langley thought, what the heck, he’d ask the old guy to lunch. Mr. Graham had been delighted to accept.

“Here,” Langley said to Kate, moving over on the banquette and patting the seat next to him. “Sit.” He signaled the waiter, who had been watching Kate carefully. (Luncheon upstairs at “21” was to be a quiet, elegant and dignified affair, and so the staff was a bit wary of breathless young women dashing in who, in this case, could have been anyone from Mr. Peterson’s scorned mistress to a drug-crazed daughter home from Bennington. One simply couldn’t tell anymore.) “She will be joining us for lunch,” Langley said.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry—I can’t,” Kate said quickly. “Really, I have to get back as soon as I can. I promised.”

“At least have a drink then,” Langley said, returning his attention to the note.

“Oh,” Kate said, looking surprised.

The waiter was patiently waiting.

“Grapefruit juice—and Perrier,” Kate said. When the waiter left, she turned to Langley. “Gee, Mr. Peterson, I didn’t expect you to invite me to lunch. Thank you. I thought you’d yell at me.”

Langley looked at her. “Have I ever yelled at you?”

“A lot,” she said, but cheerfully so.

That’s right, he had. But since it had always been Alexandra he really wanted to yell at, it had never occurred to him that Kate would consider his yelling about Alexandra as yelling at her. “Did Alexandra yell at you today?” he asked her, curious.

She shook her head. “No. Alexandra doesn’t really yell. She gets very quiet—which in a way is worse, you know what I mean?”

He knew what she meant, though judging from how white Jackson’s face had been this morning—after telling Alexandra that DBS had to expand Cassy’s managerial responsibilities to include overseeing “The Jessica Wright Show”—Langley was not so sure Alexandra hadn’t done some yelling in that meeting. And though Jack had promised to “take care of it” with Alexandra, the fact that he had suddenly decided to fly to Hilleanderville to talk to Cordelia (a week early) had signaled to Langley that Jackson had not taken care of anything with Alexandra, a fact that Cassy shortly thereafter confirmed.

“He gave her the impression that it was
my
idea!” Cassy had said to Langley over the phone. “And now he’s gone, leaving us holding the bag.”

“So Alexandra’s angry?” he had asked.

“Angry? She’s furious she wasn’t consulted. And then I explained to her that the restructuring was only meant to strengthen the financial future of DBS News.”

“And what did she say to that?” Langley asked.

“She said that was no excuse for her not being consulted, that we didn’t have the right to present it to her as a
fait accompli
,” Cassy said. “How Darenbrook presented it to her in their meeting—I don’t even want to think about it. Anyway, I told her that the reason why she wasn’t consulted was because Jackson didn’t want to burden her with anything more while she was working on the newscast.”

“And she said?” Langley asked.

“And she said that, since I seem to be so keen on show biz these days, maybe I ought to think about replacing her with Jessica and hiring a fire-eater along with a weatherman.”

“She said that?”

“Oh, yes, Langley, she said that and a whole lot more.” Cassy sighed then. “We’ve scared her, Langley. She’s taken it completely wrong—and I should have thought of it, but I didn’t.”

“What do you mean? How did she take it?”

“Well, she’s been squaring off with me over this format thing, she’s been squaring off with you since day one, there was that horrible story about her in the
Banner
last week with more quotes from that idiot Clark Smith, and then all of a sudden the one person whose support she thought she would never have to question—Jackson—suddenly announces that DBS can’t afford to let me spend all my time on her. She thinks it’s all connected—she thinks Jessica is more important to DBS than she is, and she’s scared. I mean, she’s angry, but what’s behind it is a very badly shaken young woman who desperately needs a demonstration of support—but I can’t give it to her right now, not until she backs down on this damn format. And now she’s more adamant than ever about it, because she’s so angry.”

“Well—should I make a demonstration of support in some way? Would that help?” Langley said.

“Well, somebody’s got to do something,” Cassy said, “because Jackson told her—get this—he told her the reason why I had to take on Jessica’s show was because Jessica
needed
me. Now how the hell is that supposed to make Alexandra feel?”

Yes, Langley had to admit, it didn’t look very good, did it? That Jessica arrives at a time when Alexandra is fighting with Cassy over the format of her newscast and then—bingo—all of a sudden Jackson announces that Alexandra has to share her executive producer and part of her studio crew with Jessica. But Alexandra didn’t know all that they did, that this was a move to insure her professional well-being. (But then, she had no way of knowing that her professional well-being was at risk with Darenbrook Communications in the first place. How was she supposed to know that Jack stole the money to launch DBS News? How was she supposed to know that they were doing this in order to protect her, not take anything away from her?)

But, thankfully, this note Kate had brought indicated to Langley that Alexandra was not nearly as undone as Cassy had led him to believe:

Langley [it said],

Since Cassy—legally speaking—works for me, and “The Jessica Wright Show” is now under her, DBS News now handles the overseas syndication of any of Jessica’s shows that fit the classification of “news,” correct? Please verify immediately as my attorneys are awaiting instructions on how to proceed in response to the nine contract violations DBS incurred with this morning’s announcement.

Thanks.
Alexandra

Now that sounded like the Alexandra he knew, quietly blackmailing him into giving her “The Jessica Wright Show” to syndicate overseas in exchange for her “allowing” DBS to have Cassy and the studio crews work on Jessica’s show too.

Langley had known the syndication-arm clauses in Alexandra’s contract would one day come back to haunt him. They were fairly innocuous at first glance. Once the Federal Communications Commission recognized DBS as a network, the only programming DBS could syndicate overseas would be news, and since news tended to be so American, with so few foreign outlets, Jackson had given Alexandra everything she asked for in connection with said syndication arm, DBS News International.

But, as Langley had learned, there were certain kinds of “news” programming that did lend themselves to foreign markets. Every week down the road at CBS, for example, the legal department made up a list of rights restrictions and permission clearances for that week’s edition of “60 Minutes,” detailing how they did not have foreign rights on one correspondent’s commentary pieces but did on their field correspondents’ pieces; or that maybe a celebrity had only granted certain permissions on how his or her interview could be used, and so the celebrity interview could not be shown in X, Y or Z countries, and so on and so forth. CBS could then repackage an edition of “60 Minutes” with the pieces that were cleared for foreign markets and sell it, outright, for a flat fee, to an overseas news distribution service, which, in turn, went on to sell it in various markets around the world, from French TV to a Brazilian hotel chain.

According to Alexandra’s contract, not only did she receive a piece of the action (albeit small) on anything that was sold through DBS News International, but
all
other profits had to be channeled back into DBS News—and as funds that
only
Alexandra could allocate for expenditure. What Alexandra was after, Langley knew, was those one-on-one celebrity interviews from ‘The Jessica Wright Show” that could be classified as news and that she could easily sell overseas—and thus funnel what would otherwise be DBS profits under Langley’s control into DBS News as funds exclusively under her control.

Langley had to hand it to Alexandra, she was swift and clear in her message. DBS had to pay a price to DBS News for making them share Cassy and their production crew with “The Jessica Wright Show,” or they could expect big trouble from her for violating her contract.

Wow, you really took care of her, Jack
, Langley thought.

How easy business would be if there weren’t people to deal with! Every single problem at DBS could be worked out if it weren’t for so many overblown personalities involved.

It had only been on Saturday that Langley had had such a great time with Cassy, envisioning all of the things that they could do with DBS and Darenbrook Electronics. It had only been on Saturday that he had been thinking how everything might get straightened out for Jack with the board. He had been thinking that he and Alexandra were getting along better, and that maybe he had passed judgment on her too quickly. He had even been thinking that one day, when he was back running Darenbrook Electronics, maybe there might be something to be pursued with Cassy—outside of work, on another one of those long walks. (Her husband moving to Los Angeles couldn’t be a sign of a very good marriage, could it? And she was so very, very beautiful. He had been surprised at how much he wanted to kiss her Saturday, watching her, down by the water, the sun on her hair, her eyes so blue, her mouth so
…
) But then—whammo—now Alexandra was furious at him, Jackson had fled, Cassy was upset, DBS was still improperly funded and the board still had to be dealt with.

“By the way, Mr. Graham,” Kate was saying at the table, “your editing console arrived downstairs today. And Alexandra says she has an assistant coming for you tomorrow.”

“Wonderful,” Mr. Graham said.

Langley looked at him. “Are you in film?”

“At one time,” Mr. Graham said. He looked at Kate. “I suppose it would be all right to tell him I was once in newsreels, don’t you think, Miss Benedict?”

“We better hope so,” Kate said.

Mr. Graham returned his attention to Langley. “I was once in newsreels—until 1963, at which time I sold my archives to ABC.”

“Uh-oh,” Kate said. Langley looked at her and then followed Kate’s eyes to see that Jessica Wright was making her way toward them, looking very pretty in a narrow skirt, silk blouse, and blazer with the sleeves pushed up. Her earrings, necklaces and bracelets were on the conservative side today; her hair was unusually well brushed; and she was looking surprisingly respectable and normal, although her skirt was short enough to take many an eye with her. “Hi,” she said, drawing up to the end of the table.

“Hello,” Langley said.

“My oh my, Mr. Graham,” Jessica said, “I bet Alexandra doesn’t know that it’s you who’s out dancing with the Kaiser. Oops,” she added, turning toward Langley. “I don’t really think you’re the Kaiser, Mr. Mitchell—and I don’t think many other people really do either, but everybody’s pretty upset today about who’s invading whose territory and so maybe you can understand from where these nicknames can come.”

Langley was so caught up in how together and pretty Jessica looked that it took a minute for what she had said to register.