Alexandra Waring (68 page)

“If you haven’t been able to see how Alexandra feels, and about whom she feels it, “ Jessica said softly, “then no, there isn’t anything you should know.” After a moment Cassy swallowed and nodded slightly. And then she smiled, gently, eyes looking a little sad. “You’re a very good friend.”

“I am her friend,” Jessica said.

53
West End

She stood there for several seconds before anyone noticed her. “Alexandra!” Shelley Berns cried, prompting everyone in the newsroom to stop working and look.

“Hi, you guys,” she said, smiling.

“Alexandra!” Kyle said, running over and picking her up and swinging her around, making her laugh. “Live and in person, she’s home!”

He set her down and she said, “Yes, I’m home,” stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. Then she turned to kiss Dan Shelstein hello, and Shelley, and Jimmy Hallerton, and then Gary Plains, and then Helen Kai Lu came in, Dick Gross and Dash and Chester and Paul Levitz and Herb, and Bozzy Gould came running in from the studio with Lilly Kertz, and word was traveling fast because Clancy Stevens came in and Hex came in and Kelly Harris and Dr. Kessler and then the whole Nerd Brigade came piling in through the door, and then Cleo came in and said—because Alexandra was crying now and her mascara was running— “I’m glad to see you still need me,” and Brooks Bayerson Ames and John Knox Norwood appeared, and Becky and Marc Ogakani and Oscar and Parky came in and then Kate Benedict was yelling, “Well, who works for her anyway? Aren’t I allowed to say hello?” and Alexandra gave her a hug too, and then stepped back and felt someone touching her arm, and it was Will, asking her if she had gotten any sleep.

She really burst into tears then, and buried her face in Will’s shoulder, and he held her, while everyone excitedly chattered away about how hard the schedule had been on Alexandra, how it was time for her to be home, how much they missed her, and oh, Alexandra—pat, pat, pat went the hands on her back, and “Oh, there, there,” went the consoling voices, in between bursts of laughter and cross-conversations. And Alexandra pulled herself together, using the tissues Kate held out to her, trying to listen as everybody talked to her at once smiling, laughing, sniffing and saying, “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh,” while the phones were ringing like mad around them.

“Well, well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Jessica said, standing in the doorway to the studio, hand on her hip, dressed in red and in full makeup.

“Hi, Alexandra,” Denny said, coming over to kiss her hello.

“Hi, Alexandra,” Alicia said, coming over too.

“Not that I don’t love you,” Jessica said, waltzing in, “but I have a show to do and my crew seems to have walked off the job.”

“We’re on our way,” Dick said. “Come on, guys—Bozzy, Lil, let’s get everybody back in the studio.”

“Hey, so listen,” Jessica said, tapping her finger on Alexandra’s shoulder, “why don’t you let Cleo fix you up and then come out into the studio?” She smiled at her. “It’s coffee party day, so you can talk to the crew and boost my ratings at the same time. Whaddayasay?”

“Oh, no,” Alexandra said, shaking her head. “I can’t. I’ve got to go upstairs and see Jackson.”

“He’s gone until Monday,” Jessica said. “He had to go to California.”

“Well, I have to see Cassy,” Alexandra said.

“She had to go with Jackson,” Kyle said. “Langley’s out there and they’re having some sort of meeting.”

“They’ll be back Monday,” Kate said.

“So relax,” Jessica said. “Enjoy yourself.”

Alexandra looked at her.

“Come on, Waring,” Jessica said, tugging on her hand, “all the grownups are gone.” Then her eyes widened and she whispered, loudly, so all could hear, “Open house at Jessica’s.”

“Miss Waring—hello!” Mr. Graham said, coming in the door behind Alice Moffat. “They told me you were here, and here you are!”

“Mr. Graham,” Alexandra said, kissing him on the cheek and holding his hand. “Hi, Miss Moffat,” she said, smiling at her.

“Hey, Mr. Graham,” Jessica said, nudging him, “will you come on my show today? It’s coffee party day and Alexandra says she won’t come on unless you will.”

“Oh, well,” Mr. Graham said, releasing Alexandra’s hand and touching his bow tie, “if Miss Waring would like me to. Though I’m afraid I have not made an appearance on a television program since ‘Book Beat.’ “

“You wrote a book?” Kyle asked him.

“No,” Mr. Graham said.

“Perfect credentials for today’s show,” Jessica said. She turned to Kate. “Have you written a book?”

“No,” Kate said.

“Good, then we have another guest, Denny. Alexandra, Jr.’s coming on the show too,” Jessica said, patting her on the arm, making her way through the crowd. “What about you, Kyle?”

“What about me?” Kyle said.

“Got another guest over here, Denny,” Jessica said. “Kyle hasn’t written a book either.”

“I haven’t written a book,” Dash said, raising his hand.

“Okay—you’re on,” Jessica said.

“Oh, no,” Helen Kai Lu said, disappointed, “I have. I’ve written lots of books.”

“That’s okay,” Jessica said, “we’ll rearrange your name a little nobody’ll recognize you. Denny,” she called, snapping her fingers, “over here. Lu Kai Helen here’s gonna be on the show.”

“Cleo,” Denny said. “Can you make these guys up now? Fast?”

“Cleo’s coming on the show too,” Jessica said.

“I am?” Cleo said. She turned to Alicia. “Is she serious?”

“Oh, yes,” Alicia assured her.

“Bozzy,” Jessica directed, “get out the hand-held camera. I think we’re going to come in here and visit everybody while they’re working.”

“Oh, no,” Denny said, bringing his hands up to hold his head, “here she goes.”

“You can come film me!” Hex called to Jessica, waving as he went out the door.

“Me too,” Shelley called, following Hex. “In the satellite room. You’ll make my mom very happy.”

“And I coot appeayah on your show, I tink,” Dr. Kessler said to Jessica, holding a finger in the air.

“I tink so too, Doc,” Jessica said, turning to call, “Organize this, Denny—we don’t have much time. And don’t look so smug, Mr. Director,” she said, poking Dick in the stomach. “Because we’re coming to visit you in the control room. So comb your hair for a change. Graphics, graphics!” she yelled.

“Here,” Becky said.

“We need a banner to super over the opening,” Jessica told her.

“That says
…
?” Becky asked her, grabbing a pen and piece of paper.

“
‘The DBS Across the Studio Floor Tour,
’
” Jessica said, “with Alexandra Waring and DBS News.”

Everybody howled.

“She’s serious, everybody!” Denny announced, clapping his hands. “So let’s look alive! If you have anything in your work area to hide, better hide it now.”

“Kate,” Alexandra said, pulling her to the side. “Listen, I need to fax a note to Lord Hargrave. Can we do that? Do we have time before the show?”

“Sure,” Kate said. “It’ll take two seconds.” She opened the drawer in the desk where they were standing and took out a piece of paper.

Alexandra glanced over at the clocks. “It’s after nine over there. Can we fax it somewhere and have it delivered to him wherever he is this weekend?”

“I’ll send it through the BINS newsroom,” she said, handing Alexandra a pen. “They’ll know where he is.”

“Good,” Alexandra said, leaning over to write. “Oh,” she added, looking up at her, “and make sure Chi Chi and everyone up there comes down to be on this crazy show if they want. And Ethel, Randy and Claire, and Adele too, don’t forget them. And make sure to tell Emma, the receptionist. She’s got more pizazz than all of us.”

Kate laughed. “Okay.”

“But I need some sort of job title,” Jessica was saying to Mr. Graham. “I can’t just say you were on ‘Book Beat’ in 1965.”

Alexandra looked over. “Vice-President, Research and Development, DBS News,” she said.

Mr. Graham’s mouth parted, and then a smile started to form. “Did we—?”

“Yes,” Alexandra said, eyes sparkling. “It’s all approved. Cassy gave the okay in London.”

“Oh, Mr. Graham!” Miss Moffat said.

“And you’re assistant vice-president, Miss Moffat,” Alexandra said.

“Oh, Mr. Graham!” Miss Moffat said.

“
‘Book Beat’ my ass,” Jessica said, taking Mr. Graham and Miss Moffat by the arm and leading them away. “Come on, you two there’s a couple of former lives I think we should discuss before we go on the air.”

“Excuse me,” Will yelled across the newsroom.

People turned.

“KTS in Dallas is on the line. They want to know what the story is—if we’re coming Monday or what.”

Alexandra was writing.

“Alexandra?” Kyle said, turning to her.

She looked up. “Monday? Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Oscar—Parky, Marc?” Kyle said, looking at each of them.

“We’ll be there,” Oscar said, the other two murmuring their assents as well.

“What about you, Will?” Kyle called across the newsroom. “Can you recharge your batteries by Sunday night?”

“I can even find Alexandra’s bodyguards we ditched in Kansas City,” Will said.

“Okay, then,” Kyle said, holding his hands up, “the tour’s back on, starting Monday.”

“Denny!” Jessica said from the door into the studio. “We have a crisis—DBS News Research and Development doesn’t drink coffee. They only drink tea.”

Alexandra finished her note. It said:

Dear Lord Hargrave,

I’m afraid my sentimental American heart caught up with me this morning and I decided I had no choice but to return home. I can’t tell you how much your generous offer of hospitality meant to me—and will mean to me always. I can, however, quite readily tell you how honored I felt, and that I will never, ever forget your many kindnesses.

With deepest gratitude and admiration,

Alexandra Waring

“That’s really nice,” Kate said, reading over her shoulder. Alexandra smiled, straightened up and handed it to her. “I’m glad you like it,” she said.

54
Conclusion

On Sunday night, as the Darenbrook Communications plane was landing at La Guardia Airport, Alexandra’s plane to Dallas was taxiing to another runway for takeoff.

She went back out on the DBS Across America tour, to ever increasing acclaim, and Alexandra’s suggestion that the tour be extended another month, through September, was approved. By the time she returned to West End in October she had anchored the news from sixty-three cities in eighty-eight days, consolidated her ratings for the fall, and ensured her place as one of the most widely admired women in the United States.

But many would say, back at West End, that Alexandra had changed since starting the tour, although no one seemed very sure about what that change had been. She was as warm and energetic and dynamic as ever, but still, people sensed that something was missing from her old self. The something had to do with her eyes taking on that special sparkle only when she was on camera now. Some said it was the shootings that had done it, others said it was her breakup with Gordon Strenn. It was difficult to say since Alexandra never spoke of the shootings, was seen to resume dating, quickly, and never gave the slightest indication that any part of her life was anything less than absolutely terrific.

In Palm Springs, California, under a doctor’s supervision, Belinda Darenbrook Peterson began a graduated withdrawal from Valium and Librium, and in September entered the Betty Ford Center in Rancho Mirage. Langley joined a counseling program for the families of people with addiction problems and also began individual therapy, suspecting—rightfully—that he needed to focus on some of his own problems and not just on Belinda’s.

The resulting changes in the Petersons were rather startling, And while it was tremendously exciting for them to know that these changes—like
wanting
to change, wanting to work on themselves, wanting to recommit to each other and work on their marriage—would ensure that things need never go back to the way they had been, it was a little unsettling to find, for example, that their “new” selves argued with each other as their “old” selves never had.

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know you anymore!” Langley said to Belinda one night, after they had returned to New York and Belinda said over her dead body would she attend Pooh Tillington Hubin’s dinner party—the party Langley had just said he would love to take her to. “Well, thank God you don’t feel like you know me anymore,” Belinda said, “because the woman you used to know who liked Pooh’s dinner parties was on drugs! And what are you on, that all of a sudden after eighteen years you
want
to go to a dinner party?”

“Well, things are different now,” Langley said.

“Well Pooh’s no different,” Belinda said, “she’s awful.”

And then the Petersons started laughing, something else they seemed to be doing a lot of recently—as well as going for walks, holding hands, arguing, making up, arguing, laughing and talking, talking, talking. And arguing. And getting to know each other again. They sold the house in Greenwich and bought a lovely place just outside Litchfield, Connecticut, as a weekend retreat.

The board of directors of Darenbrook Communications approved a reorganization and restructuring of the corporation and Langley rejoined Darenbrook Communications as Co-Chairman, Electronics & Broadcasting Divisions, setting off a string of promotions down the DBS line.

Cassy Cochran had of course already been named president of DBS, and the network was going very well under her. By the time the Big Three networks recovered from the 1988 writers’ strike and premiered their fall seasons in November, “DBS News America Tonight with Alexandra Waring” and “The Jessica Wright Show” had won a following they would never lose. DBS had also won itself 178 affiliates.

Kyle McFarland was promoted to Executive Producer of “DBS News America Tonight,” Will Rafferty to Senior Producer, and Kate Benedict to Alexandra’s special assistant in the newsroom. New anchors and crew were hired as the newscast expanded to seven nights a week; a newsmagazine was in the works, and a regional documentary series on America was about to go into production.

Mr. Graham and Miss Moffat were making very good money for DBS News, and rumors of romance between them hadn’t hurt their careers.

Under the reorganization, Alexandra gladly relinquished her administrative involvement to concentrate on raising the journalistic standards of the network. Every Thursday night just after her newscast she headed for the airport, flying out to a different affiliate each week, where she worked the following day and anchored the Friday night newscast. Her personal attention seemed to work wonders in the affiliate newsrooms and the results did not go unnoticed. When industry prize time rolled around, DBS News won a special citation “for depicting the rich diversity of character, culture and way of life within the United States, and promoting greater understanding of the nation as a single entity bound by the Constitution.”

One of the more surprising outcomes of the reorganization was the blossoming friendship between Alexandra and Langley Peterson. She frequently dropped into his office for a breather and a chat, and while some might have viewed it as politicking on Alexandra’s part, Langley knew that it was not.

“I think,” Alexandra said one afternoon, “it may have something to do with the fact that you seem to be the only person in America who respects my privacy.”

He laughed, but Alexandra didn’t. And Langley’s heart went out to her because he knew what a rough time she had been going through. The tabloids were having a heyday at her expense, splashing across their pages pictures of Gordon Strenn and Betty Cannondale, using the fact that they were dating as proof that Gordon had been cheating on Alexandra while filming
Love Across the Atlantic
and that had been the reason behind their breakup. A lot of people at West End, Langley knew, thought the story was true—even Adele, who claimed that any fool could have seen that Betty had been in love with her boss since the day she arrived.

Langley was glad they’d sold the miniseries to Hargrave Studios as quickly as they had.

“I do mind my own business,” Langley said to Alexandra, “but there is just one thing I’d like to say to you—and then I promise I’ll never bring it up again.”

Her eyebrows went up in question.

“Someone special will come along, Alexandra,” Langley told her. “You’re young, and you have time. And while you’re going through this, know that it’s just something you have to go through to get to what’s coming—who’s coming.” He smiled. “I mean, just look at Jack. He never thought he’d fall in love again and look at what happened to him.”

Denny Ladler was promoted to executive producer on “The Jessica Wright Show,” and while DBS hired a producer to replace him, Alicia Washington was promoted to associate producer and was widely assumed to be on her way into the producing slot herself. Alicia managed to trick a guy fresh out of Sarah Lawrence into taking the job as Jessica’s secretary, and Jessica herself hired a special new assistant to help on the show. The special assistant’s name was Belinda Darenbrook Peterson.

Jessica Wright didn’t ever want to drink again and went regularly to AA meetings to prove it to herself. “Better safe than sorry” had never been her motto, but in this one area of her life she refused to play around—the stakes were just too high. Jessica’s life had become inexplicably precious to her, and she was still not even sure why.

She looked much more her age, having lost that intense, pained “older” look she always used to have, and the mysterious bloat that came and went in her face regardless of what her weight was. Her skin glowed, her hair gained a whole new sheen, and her energy level was higher than ever—only more consistent because those awful sinking spells of depression she had suffered for years had simply faded away.

She felt wonderful. And still couldn’t quite believe it.

Jessica even found her own apartment. Granted, she only moved three blocks down from Alexandra on Central Park West into The Beresford, and granted, she hadn’t really gotten around to furnishing it, but it was her own apartment. She also played tennis, swam at a health club, and every Friday morning skated at Wollman Rink in Central Park. And twice a month she and Alexandra got together on Sunday night to “play Kansas,” which meant they made popcorn or baked something and then settled down with afghans in Alexandra’s living room and watched movies like S
tella Dallas
and cried.

Alexandra was Jessica’s best friend in the whole wide world.

Speaking of whom, when Jessica finally got around to finalizing her divorce, Alexandra promptly fixed her up with someone she thought Jessica would like. “What?” Jessica shrieked in her dressing room at West End, minutes before her Mystery Date was to arrive. “A
doctor?
You think I’m that bad, Waring, that I require full-time medical attention?” But Tim turned out to be very different from what Jessica had imagined. (Or was it that
she
had turned out to be so very different from what she had imagined? The whole world had changed when she wasn’t looking, so Jessica wasn’t very sure about these things anymore. Could it be that she actually
liked
a nice man who liked her? An available, interested, solid, steady, warm and wonderful guy who wasn’t the least bit self—destructive?)

(“Fascinating,” Jessica said, “how love and romance without alcohol adds up to love and romance.”)

But while her own life had changed so much for the better, Jessica couldn’t help but worry a little about Alexandra. But not professionally, because Alexandra was so wildly popular with the public that Jessica couldn’t help but be (only on bad days, mind you) a little jealous. Restaurants were always calling up newspapers to tell them what Alexandra ate in their establishments (and they reported it); designers were always calling DBS to see if Alexandra would like to preview their collections; and the major magazines were forever hounding Alexandra for interviews—and when she gave them, she invariably landed the cover. Alexandra’s inquiries from young people were so numerous, DBS printed a sixteen-page booklet she wrote called “So You Want to Be in TV News” which DBS sent out by the hundreds each week.

Physically speaking, Alexandra had never looked better. She was eating well and sleeping well, exercising religiously, and as a present to herself bought a small farm in Somerset County, New Jersey, where she tried to get to on weekends. But the externals of Alexandra’s life were not what worried Jessica—the externals of Alexandra’s life had always looked great.

“I think you need to talk about it,” Jessica said one Sunday night after their movie was over.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jessica,” Alexandra said, getting up out of her chair, picking up the popcorn bowl and walking out of the room.

Jessica, wrapped in an afghan on the couch, got up to follow Alexandra down the hall to the kitchen, afghan trailing behind her. “You can’t just pretend it never happened.”

“Yes I can,” Alexandra said, walking over to the kitchen sink.

“But you shouldn’t,” Jessica said.

Alexandra banged the popcorn bowl down on the counter and turned around to look at her—as if the next thing to be banged down on the counter might be Jessica’s head. She put one hand on her hip and raised the other, started to say something but then stopped. Then she dropped her hand and sighed. “Look, Jessica,” she said, “it’s all over and done with—life goes on.” Then she turned around and started washing out the bowl.

Jessica sighed and, after several moments, still wrapped in the afghan, she walked over to the table, pulled out a chair and dropped down into it. To Alexandra’s back she said, “And I don’t think this new attitude about your love life is very healthy.”

“What attitude is that?” Alexandra said without turning around.

“This, from-here-on-in-it’s-only-applause-and-genetic-engineering-for-me attitude,” Jessica said. “I mean, Alexandra, who
are
these guys you go out with? Tim thinks you’re ordering them out of a Brooks’ Brothers catalog.”

Alexandra turned off the water and turned around to look at her.

“Alexandra,” Jessica said, making a terrible face, “they’re all in
finance
.

Alexandra had to laugh a little then. Then she sighed, smiling, walked over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. “Look, Jessica,” she said, “all I know is, if I don’t talk about it, then it can never be used against me. I have no desire to get more hurt than I have been already.”

“But I don’t want to see you shut down, Alexandra Eyes,” Jessica said softly.

“I’m not shutting down,” Alexandra said.

After a moment, Jessica said, “You’re allowed to change your mind, you know.” Jessica said.

Alexandra’s eyes stayed focused on the table for a long while. And then she said, eyes still down, “If I could have told Gordon the truth, about Cassy, we might have had a chance.” She paused. “But when I couldn’t tell him, I knew what was wrong between us had nothing to do with Cassy.” She raised her eyes. “Gordon knew it was mistake too—he didn’t say it, but I knew he felt it too.” Her eyes started to glisten as she smiled at Jessica. “We both have a much better idea of what we need, and neither one of us comes very close to the fitting the bill.” She laughed, one tear dropping to her cheek. “But like the best disaster-marriages in the making, we did at least look good, didn’t we?”