Close to You (3 page)

If Janie was traumatized over the loss of Mrs. Twomey, the housekeeper who had watched over her for as long as the child could remember, it didn't show. And that bothered Eliza. The little girl had witnessed her mother being shot by the housekeeper in a situation far too complicated for a child to understand. How could Janie be expected to comprehend that her beloved Mrs. Twomey had committed two murders and almost killed Eliza as the caretaker tried to cover up her own son's misdeeds? Janie had seemed to readily accept Eliza's explanation that Mrs. Twomey was troubled and sick and wasn't in her right mind when she hurt Mommy.

Eliza had consulted a child psychologist who was of the opinion that, while many children suffer trauma, it wasn't just one thing that scarred a child for life. It was repeated instances of abuse or abandonment or betrayal that did the psychic damage. If Janie continued to feel secure in her mother's and grandparents' love, unthreatened in her surroundings and nurtured, as Eliza had every intention of doing, the doctor was confident she would be all right. Yes,
it was true, Janie did not have a father, but it was also true that since he had died before she was born, she had never known him to suffer the loss.

As time went by and Janie was exposed more to the world of other children with both parents there would be, inevitably, longings for a daddy of her own. At any point, counseling was always an option.

“I know you must be tired, Katharine, but I'm so glad you're coming out with us to see the house. I so value your opinion. And from what Louise tells me, if we want it, we're going to have to make a decision on the spot.”

Katharine shook her head wearily. “I don't understand this market. In my time, you could think about things for a few days and then decide. This is crazy.”

“You're right,” declared Eliza, taking Janie's hand and looking out the car window at the Hudson River as they drove up the West Side Highway toward the George Washington Bridge and New Jersey. “This is crazy.”

So much had been crazy and out of control. This move could bring some stability to their lives.

If Eliza Blake were made aware of every letter that came from every crackpot obsessed with her, Joe Connelly was certain, the
Evening Headlines
anchor would never sleep again. As Director of KEY Corporate Security, Connelly maintained a policy of not telling her or any of the other on-air correspondents about letters unless there was actually something they should do to protect themselves. Part of his job was to insulate those he was responsible for protecting from unwarranted fear. Another part was weeding out the harmless letters from the ones that were truly threatening.

Eliza never even saw the crazy letters that came to her at the Broadcast Center. Her assistant opened all her mail and immediately sent on to security anything that seemed weird or menacing rather than just annoying. Over the years Eliza had anchored
KEY to America,
the morning news broadcast, Connelly had been concerned enough to send a few letters to the FBI. But now, in the short time Eliza had been anchoring the
KEY Evening Headlines,
her viewership had increased and so had the letters.

Connelly walked through the security command post buried in the basement of the Broadcast Center, scanning the dozens of video monitors along the wall. There were
sixteen cameras on each chain, timed to record views of different locations. Cameras were trained on every entrance and exit of the building, outside each elevator, along each hallway. If Joe had his way, there would be cameras in the bathrooms, but, of course, that was against the law. The security monitors were not staffed at all times. That was impossible with the manpower situation as it was. But in the old days, all the camera tapes were recorded and saved for ten days—plenty of time to painstakingly replay and study each tape for any problems or signs of security lapses. Now the cameras were mostly digital, which made things much easier. Everything was saved on a disk and pinpointing time was more exact.

Still, during the hours when most of the on-air talent was in the Broadcast Center, Connelly liked to have a guard keeping an eye on the security screens.

“Everything okay?” he asked the guard now stationed in front of the monitors.

“I'm trying not to fall asleep, it's so quiet.”

Unsmiling, Connelly nodded. “Good. Let's keep it that way.”

Louise Kendall stood waiting on the lawn in front of the Georgian colonial as the car carrying Eliza, Janie and Katharine Blake pulled into the driveway.

“I'm in love already!” Eliza whispered to her mother-in-law, inhaling as she viewed for the first time the house she was already certain she would buy. The gracious brick home sat well back from the street on carefully manicured grounds that Eliza estimated must be at least three acres. “Look, it has a slate roof!”

“Don't act excited in front of Louise,” Katharine warned. “You shouldn't seem too anxious.”

Eliza leaned over and pecked her mother-in-law's cheek. “Yes, KayKay,” she said good-naturedly. “I won't give myself away.”

But Janie was not good at keeping secrets. She bounded from the car, dragging her precious stuffed monkey, Zippy, by the arm, and ran straight across the lawn for Louise. “My mommy loves the house,” she announced proudly.

Eliza and Katharine followed behind, the younger woman laughing. “So much for playing it cool,” Eliza shrugged. “Okay, Louise, you've got me hooked. Give us the tour.”

In the fading light, they walked slowly around the exterior of the house, Janie running ahead and calling back what they were about to see next.

“Mommy!” she shrieked. “It has a swimming pool!”

“Great,” Katharine groaned sarcastically. “Now you'll have to worry about that, too.”

Eliza chose not to respond, knowing that Janie's grandmother was at a point now where she was apprehensive about any possible thing that could pose a threat to her grandchild.

“It also has a hot tub,” Louise pointed out, ignoring the negative comment. “And, as you can see, a cabana.”

She opened the unlocked door and they walked through the small building. A full kitchen outfitted with a large refrigerator, double sink, oven and dishwasher was the main room. Off it was a perfectly tiled bathroom with an oversized shower stall. Beyond that was a utility room with a washer and dryer.

“Think of the great parties you can have out here,” Louise enthused.

Eliza was just thinking of quietly sitting on a lounge chair watching Janie swim, or soaking in the hot tub after a long day at work, as her daughter scooted out the cabana door.

“Mommy, KayKay, come see!”

They followed the direction of the child's voice in time to see Janie climbing up the wooden slat steps nailed to a giant elm. “There's a tree house!” she called with wonder.

“Be careful, honey. You don't know if those steps are safe.” Katharine hurried toward the old tree.

In that instant Eliza knew for certain that she was doing the right thing. She didn't want Janie growing up timid and afraid. She wanted her to be confident and strong. Though she wanted to shield Janie from anything that would wound her, Eliza knew that her daughter would have to take chances in life, be hurt and then learn to recover. Janie's was a strong and beautiful spirit and, painful though it might be, she would have to take life's knocks in order to
learn how to survive in the world as it was and grow to her full potential. Katharine and Paul were wonderful, loving grandparents, but their overprotectiveness, while understandable, would not be good for Janie in the long run. Eliza and Janie had to get their own rhythm going again, as a family, small though their family was. And maybe, if things continued as well as they had been going, Mack would join their family, too.

Eliza thought about Mack as she watched her daughter smiling triumphantly from the tree-house platform. Mack McBride, a keenly intelligent, no-nonsense news correspondent, was gentle and loving with Janie, and with her. Their relationship was relatively new, but the emotional bond had grown quickly in the turmoil of the last few months. Mack had been a rock of stability and it felt right to have him beside her after all the years she had been alone. Eliza marveled at the notion that she was being given another chance to love.

At the Manhattan Ocean Club on West Fifty-eighth Street, KEY News president Yelena Gregory sat across the table from Mack McBride. As the waiter brought their cocktails, Yelena raised her glass.

“To you, Mack, and the wonderful work you've been doing for us.”

Mack nodded at his boss and took a swallow of scotch. “That's a relief,” he exhaled. “I was wondering if you were taking me out to give me some bad news.”

Yelena didn't smile in response as he had expected her to. Something was up and he wasn't sure he was going to like it. He waited for her to speak.

“Well, as a matter fact, I do have some news. News that I hope you will be happy about, Mack.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“As I'm sure you are fully aware, Mack,” Yelena continued carefully, “there are some correspondent positions that are considered more important than others.”

Mack nodded. “Go on.”

“We've got you earmarked for one of those slots.”

Mack's mind raced. It was a move from New York, he was sure of it. But where? He waited.

Yelena took a sip of her drink, resentful because she knew that the gift she was about to bestow was not going to be all that appreciated.

“We want to make you chief European correspondent, stationed, of course, in London.”

Just a few months ago, Mack would have had everything he could do to keep himself from kissing the older, heavy-set woman on the mouth. All the way back to the old Edward R. Murrow days, at the dawn of broadcast journalism, being the London correspondent was one of the most coveted assignments a newsman could dream of. He had often fantasized about being good enough professionally to win the spot.

But now the accomplishment staring him in the face was bittersweet. London. An ocean and five times zones away from Eliza.

Yelena was looking at him keenly for reaction. He was careful not to betray with his facial expression the turmoil tossing inside.

“When would I start?”

“Almost immediately,” Yelena answered firmly.

The steamed lobster the waiter placed before him sat almost untouched as Yelena prattled on about the importance of the position and how KEY News wanted new blood to revitalize what she considered a complacent London bureau. To that end, a new bureau chief had been appointed. Marcy McGinnis was stirring things up over there.

“We'll have two micks in London, now,” Yelena joked, heedless of political correctness.

Mack McBride managed a smile. He knew full well that the president of the news division was aware that he and Eliza Blake were romantically involved, but Yelena did not bring up the subject. What was also left unsaid was something else they both knew. If Mack turned down the assignment, his career would never recover.

It was after eleven o'clock when Eliza finally tucked Janie into bed for the night. The child's eyes closed immediately as her head hit the pillow. Smoothing Janie's wispy brown hair back from her forehead, Eliza kissed the soft skin over her brow.

“Sleep tight, my sweet angel,” she whispered.

Unbuttoning the jacket of her suit as she walked toward her own bedroom, Eliza reflected on what she had just done. She had signed a contract for a house more expensive than she had ever dreamed of buying.

It wasn't that she couldn't afford it. She could. Her new contract took care of that. But she hadn't grown up with money. Though Eliza had offered to buy them something larger, her parents still lived in her small childhood house in Newport, Rhode Island. She had gone to public schools and attended the in-state, affordable University of Rhode Island, double-majoring in journalism and political science. When people heard or read that she grew up in Newport, they assumed she had led a privileged life. They didn't realize that Newport was packed with a lot of folks who struggled just to get by.

Talent, hard work and some good professional luck had gotten her to this point.

Eliza felt her stomach rumble as she hung her suit in the bedroom closet and remembered that she hadn't eaten dinner. Pulling a nightgown over her head, she ignored the flashing red light of the answering machine on her bedside table, and headed down the hall to the kitchen.

It was too late to eat a big meal, nor did she have the energy to fix one. She poured a bowl full of Janie's Rice Krispies, sliced a banana and covered it all with milk. Taking her supper with her, Eliza walked back down the hall and gratefully sank onto her bed. After concentrating on three or four mouthfuls, she reached over and hit the button on the answering machine.

“It's me. Call me when you get in. It doesn't matter what time.”

Mack's voice sounded tense. Had the dinner with Yelena turned out to be a disaster? Mack's contract was up for renewal. KEY News couldn't be stupid enough not to resign him. But you never knew, they had been known to make some extremely dumb decisions in the past. Eliza punched in the number she knew by heart and braced herself.

When she arrived at the office each morning, the first thing Paige did was play back the telephone messages that had come in since close-of-business the night before. This morning, she felt sorry for the somewhat pathetic caller who confessed such deep admiration for Eliza Blake. The answering system, which time-stamped each call, indicated the message had come in just after midnight.

“People's lives,” Paige sighed as she erased the call.

For the most part Paige Tintle enjoyed the next task of the morning, sifting through Eliza's mail. There were all sorts of letters and invitations from interesting people doing important things. As Eliza's personal assistant, Paige's job was to sort though the incoming documents, cull the things that Eliza had to see to herself, and deal with answering the dozens of requests for Eliza to speak or to attend various functions.