Amanda Bright @ Home (22 page)

Of course Bob was confident—
his
parents had just celebrated their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. At the time Amanda had insisted that she would have been just as happy living together. She told Bob that she did not need a “piece of paper” to prove their love. Now, as her gaze drew back from the portrait, she realized that the “piece of paper” was much less flimsy than it had seemed. Everything in their life rested upon it. Their contract existed regardless of Bob’s love for her, or her love for Bob. It turned feelings into words, and promises into facts. It ratified, in the dry language of the law, the emotions in their eyes and hearts that humid June afternoon so many years ago—before Ben and Sophie, before this house, before they knew each other’s minds as intimately and instinctively as Amanda knew this dark room. Yet all that would come later had been implicit then; it was wrapped up in their vows like the DNA of an embryonic cell, already dividing and developing into what would become this life. These lives.
Their
life, together.

Somewhere, Amanda imagined, a Mrs. Hochmayer was drawing the curtains in her bedroom, turning down the sheets on her side of the bed, glancing over at the empty spot that was not truly empty because for so long it had belonged to her husband. On his nightstand would be the stack of books he planned to read; in his closet, a row of suits still bearing the shape of his elbows. And on his dressing table would be the collection of personal artifacts—cuff links, collar stays, loose change—so familiar that you cease to see them, yet so essential to the harmony of the room that were they to vanish it would have the shock of a robbery.

Did Mrs. Hochmayer know that some thousand miles away another woman was wrapping herself around her husband’s naked body? That this woman had set her own, unfamiliar artifacts—face cream, earrings, cosmetics case—alongside his on the marble ledge of a hotel bathroom?

Amanda could picture it no more; the image left her gasping. She stood and walked slowly upstairs.

Other thoughts were flying at her now—distressing thoughts.
It happens, you know.
Was it happening to her?

Through the half-closed door of their bedroom, Amanda could see the long figure of Bob asleep; his shoes and socks lay scattered on the floor, illuminated by a quadrangle of light from the hallway.

Desperately Amanda wanted to wake him. But as she paused at the door, gathering up the words she would use to confront him, her nerve fell away. What could she say? What cause for doubt did she have except a phone message? Amanda found herself simply, almost childishly, grateful for the sight of him, there, in their bed. She changed quickly and joined him, burying her face into his back. He half roused at her touch, rolled over, and pulled her toward him. Gradually, the rhythm of her breath joined his.

Chapter Fourteen

A BEEP ON Amanda’s line signaled that a second call was trying to get through.

“Hang on a sec,” she said to Liz. “Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Clarke?” It was a male voice Amanda didn’t recognize.

“Who’s calling?”

“Grover Mudd, of the
Washington Post
.”

“Thanks but we already subscribe.”

“It’s not a sales call! I’m a reporter—I write ‘The Ear’ column,” he said, before Amanda could click off.

“Could you hold on a moment?”

“Sure.”

Amanda returned to Liz. “It’s a reporter. I don’t know what it’s about.”

“Call me back—it sounds interesting.”

Amanda hesitated before picking up the other line. “The Ear”—that was the daily gossip column. Why on earth was Mudd calling her?

“Mrs. Clarke?”

“Amanda—Amanda
Bright
.”

“Hi. I’m friends with Susie Morris. She suggested I call you.”

“Susie? Why?”

“I just bumped into her at the studio. I was doing the noon-hour show,” he explained, with a touch of self-importance. “She told me she had dinner at your house last night …”

“She did?”

“Don’t worry, I know all about her and Jim Hochmayer. She told me herself. That’s not why I’m calling.”

Amanda was staggered by Susie’s indiscretion. She knew her friend was a blurter, but to blurt about Hochmayer to a gossip columnist!

“Then why are you calling?”

“I’m doing an item on her new show. It’s starting to generate buzz. Susie tells me you’ve known her longer than anyone else in Washington.”

“That’s true,” Amanda allowed. “I don’t mind talking about that—if Susie said it was okay.”

“She did.”

Amanda, who had spoken to the press on several occasions when she worked at the NEA, tried to recall the little “rules” she had observed when dealing with reporters. Chief among them was, “Don’t say anything interesting.” It was hard to apply this rule to the topic of Susie. That’s okay, Amanda told herself. Just be positive—blandly positive.

Mudd fired off a few questions about Susie’s career: Had Susie always aspired to work in television? Did Amanda think her friend found it difficult, as a beautiful woman, to be taken seriously as a journalist? Amanda answered cautiously, saying her friend had always been ambitious and agreeing, yes, she imagined it was tough sometimes for Susie to be taken seriously in Washington but Susie wouldn’t have come so far if she didn’t have talent … the new show was a perfect vehicle for Susie … certain to be a great success … blah blah blah …

“What I find funny about it, between you and me,” Mudd confided, “is how she could date Hochmayer and work for Mike Frith’s cable station.”

“Look, I don’t want to comment on anything to do with her personal life—”

“Yes, but don’t you think it’s awkward?”

Mudd’s presumption discomfited Amanda. She could see the story line he was taking—“Sleeping with the Enemy”—and Amanda grew worried on Susie’s behalf. Perhaps she could deflect it—without entering into the Hochmayer business?

“I know that Susie agrees with Mike Frith. She strongly opposes the Megabyte case.”

“So how is it possible that she gets along with Hochmayer?”

“Look, I really don’t want to talk about her relationship with him—”

“No, no, no, of course,” Mudd reassured her. “I’m just thinking aloud, as her friend. We go back a long way, too, you know. It’s a kind of strange dynamic, don’t you think?”

“I assume they just don’t talk about it.”

“But how is that possible? I mean, when she told me they were at your house—with your husband, Bob—right? He works for the DOJ?—I would’ve imagined the four of you having a big argument about it. Susie’s pretty feisty in her opinions.”

At that moment there was a bang from upstairs where Amanda had left the children to play. She heard Sophie cry out.

“Look, it didn’t come up, okay?” Amanda half listened for further noise. “At least not in that context,” she added, realizing Susie might contradict what she had just said.

“I find it hard to believe that the night before the Senate hearings, the topic simply didn’t ‘come up’—”

Sophie materialized at Amanda’s side sobbing. She pushed her wet face onto her mother’s bare leg, but the gesture did little to muffle her squalls.

“I’m not saying it didn’t come up. I’m saying—” Oh God, what was she saying? “I’m saying there was no disagreement. The men may have talked about the case a little—strategy and stuff—but it was really just a dinner between friends, all right? A private dinner. Please, let’s just leave it at that. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore, and I can’t see why it’s relevant to your story. Frankly, I’d appreciate you not mentioning it.”

“Fine. Just one more question—”

“Look, my children. I better go—”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to keep you. Your husband spells Clarke with an
e,
correct?”

“Yes—” Amanda crouched down and put a consoling arm around Sophie. “But why do you need the spelling of my
husband’s
name?”

“Just in case the editor asks. I’ll let you go. Thanks.”
Click.

Amanda stared at the dead receiver for a second before hanging it up. She pulled Sophie close and stroked her hair.

“There, there, sweetie, it’s all right. You go back upstairs and play.”

“Ben’s a bad boy!”

“I’ll make him say sorry. Go on, I’ll be up in a minute.”

The little girl heaved a few more sobs. Amanda kissed the top of her head and prodded her in the direction of the stairs. When she was gone, Amanda immediately phoned Bob.

“I know you’re busy but …”

“I’m just about to walk over to the Hill to watch the hearings but I have a minute. What’s going on?”

Bob sounded cheerful; Amanda knew he was up about the hearings.

“I just got the weirdest call. Do you know Grover Mudd? He writes ‘The Ear’ column for the
Post
.”

“Yeah—what would he want?”

“Well, at first I thought he was trying to find out about Susie and Jim.”

“Jesus,” said Bob, suddenly alarmed. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing—nothing at all. He already knew all about it. He’s a friend of hers—or so he said. I think I remember vaguely Susie telling me that she had once dated him.”

“God, she can’t keep anything secret, can she? But why did he want to talk to you?”

“He said he was writing an item on Susie’s show, and since I know Susie so well, he just wanted a bit of background—you know, was Susie ambitious in college, that sort of thing.”

“That seems okay.”

“Yes, I thought so, too.”

“Was that all he wanted?”

“Um, there was a little more—he said he couldn’t understand how Susie could work for Frith when she was dating Hochmayer, and asked me what I thought about it.”

“You didn’t answer that, did you?”

“No—not really. I told him I didn’t want to talk about her personal life, but I did say that Susie had always been pro-Megabyte.”

“Good, good—that was exactly the right thing to say.”

“I’d better call Susie—”

“Yes, you should. And ask her why she’s such a blabber-mouth. Christ, Hochmayer. Why would she tell ‘The Ear’ that?”

“Don’t ask me.”

Susie was in a story meeting with her producers, and Amanda left a message. By the time her friend called back, Amanda was halfway through a floor puzzle with the children. She took the phone into the bathroom for privacy and seated herself upon the toilet.

“Susie, I just got a call from Grover Mudd.”

“I know. He told me he was going to call you. I was going to warn you, but I got called into a meeting.”

“I wish you had warned me.”

“I didn’t think he’d phone so quickly. It must be for tomorrow’s column.” Susie sounded pleased.

“Susie! This is serious—he knows about you and Hochmayer. He asked me about it.”

“And what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything! Why would
you
talk to him about it?”

“Oh, Grover’s an old friend. We dated years ago and—”

“Susie, I can’t believe you told him,” Amanda interrupted. “What would
possess
you to tell him?”

“Grover asked me,” she said calmly. “I bumped into him and he asked if I was seeing anyone these days, and I said yes, Jim Hochmayer. It’s not a secret. A lot of people know.”

“And so you decided to announce it to the newspaper?”

“No, I told
Grover
. It’s different—he’s a friend. He’s doing an item about the show. That’s why I told him to call you.”

Amanda was speechless—was Susie being deliberately stupid with her?

“Well, I can tell you that’s not what he’s interested in—he’s interested in you and Jim.”

“Oh?” Susie sounded remarkably unruffled.

“You’re not worried? What if his wife finds out?”

“Gee, that would be too bad,” Susie replied with heavy irony.

Ah, it was she, Amanda, who was being stupid—at last it dawned upon her what Susie was up to. “You did this—
on purpose
?”

“Look,” said Susie, lowering her voice, “it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if a little heat were put on Jim. I told Grover because I can trust him to do it right. I’m sure he’s going to do one of those blind items, you know, like ‘What married computer executive is seeing a well-known TV pundette?’ It won’t cause Jim any problems—who reads ‘The Ear’ in Texas?—but he’ll get the idea that word is slowly leaking out, and he can’t keep sitting on the fence.

“I’m not going to be anyone’s goddamn mistress.”

Amanda decided not to challenge the glaring falseness of this assertion, but she remained staggered by Susie’s recklessness.

“What if it backfires?”

“It can’t. Jim’s been saying how much he loves me, so let’s just put him to the test.”

“I wish you hadn’t dragged me into it.”

“I didn’t mean to—he asked me for the names of some friends, and how could I not give yours? Ostensibly his interest is in the show. I’m sure you handled it well.”

“I told him I didn’t want to be quoted about that stuff.”

“Then he won’t quote you. Grover’s a good guy.”

“Are you
certain
he won’t quote me? Maybe you should call him—because, Susie, I don’t want to be involved in this, okay?”

“I’ll let him know how you feel.” Susie sounded slightly affronted by Amanda’s mistrust. “Grover wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

“Yes, but my God, Susie—”

“Grover will listen to me,” Susie repeated. “I’ll call him. Stop panicking.”

Ben began banging on the locked door. “I need to pee!”

“Let me know what you find out,” Amanda said, before hanging up.

But Susie did not let her know. Bob did. He came storming into the bedroom the next morning before Amanda was fully awake and threw the newspaper down on the bed.

“I thought you told me you said nothing!”

Amanda sat up on her elbow. She glanced back and forth between the newspaper—opened to “The Ear” column—and Bob’s furious face. She picked up the newspaper and, squinting, read the following:

Strange Bedfellows

On the night before the Senate began grilling Megabyte executives, guess where one of the Justice department’s key witnesses was dining? The Ear hears that Jim Hochmayer, billionaire owner of Texas CompSystems, was chowing down at the Woodley Park home of Bob Clarke, who is spearheading the DOJ’s antitrust case against Megabyte. Clarke’s wife Amanda confirmed in an interview yesterday that the two men talked “strategy and stuff” and that there was “no disagreement” between them—“it was really a dinner between friends.” This intimate tête-à-tête certainly lends credence to the “paranoid” rantings of Megabyte’s Mike Frith, who has accused the DOJ of cozying up to his competitors in order to destroy his company. But wait, Mike, the story gets better. The Ear has learned that Hochmayer’s date that evening was none other than beautiful TV pundette Susie Morris, whose new political affairs show,
Morris & Johns
, airs on Megabyte’s cable station, MBTV. Hmm, do we sense a conflict of interest here? If this news doesn’t keep Frith up at night, then it ought to worry Hochmayer’s missus, who is back on the ranch in Texas. Hochmayer himself was unavailable for comment but Morris claims the two are “just good friends.” Frith, meanwhile, is scheduled to testify before the hearings later this week.