Talk of the Town (20 page)
I’ll miss you, sweetheart.
A rush of nostalgia for all their good times at work washed over Rebecca. She blinked back tears. Just because she wouldn’t be working here didn’t mean she couldn’t see Pauline and the girls nearly as often. Or so she’d convinced herself over her long, soul-searching weekend.
When Pauline finally saw Rebecca, she jumped up from behind the desk and ran halfway across the lobby. “Thank you . . . thank you . . . thank you!” She gave Rebecca three strong hugs. Her face as red as her hair, Pauline did a little dance around the lobby. Breathless, she stopped. “I’m so excited I can’t stand it.”
Rebecca laughed, although her heart ached a little knowing how Pauline’s mood would change once she heard the news.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Rebecca. The best. If you hadn’t been here on Friday, I don’t know what I would have done; I was so frantic with worry. But you were here and you made everything better.”
“No, Pauline. All I did was ask David a question and get the truth,” Rebecca said gently.
“Oh, and I suppose you didn’t have anything to do with Mr. Sumner personally calling to assure me of my importance to the paper? Or Human Resources contacting me about evaluating my position for a possible raise?”
No, David did it on his own. He’s so wonderful.
Her chest swelled with feelings so rich she knew they couldn’t be good for her. She shook her head. “It was all David’s idea. I’m happy for you, Pauline.”
“Are you all right, Rebecca? You look a little pale.” Pauline shook her head, her eyes widening. “Not that you don’t look gorgeous. You do. I always love you in winter white. It’s so perfect with your blond hair and brown eyes.”
More people were spinning through the revolving door. The lobby wasn’t the time or place to break the news. “I’m perfectly fine. Really. I’ll talk to you later.”
Rebecca had barely made it to her office and flung herself into her beloved ergonomically correct chair before Kate appeared in the open doorway.
“I did it, Rebecca.” Kate squared her shoulders. “I accepted David’s offer to write the finance column. I couldn’t have done it without your support. Not only your agreement to take over some of my responsibilities for Home and Food, but you being here for me in all ways.” Kate smiled. “You make it fun. I’d missed that before you came.”
Speechless with remorse, Rebecca watched Kate visibly pulling herself together with a sigh and a tug on her black suit jacket.
“Rebecca, can we meet in my office after lunch to discuss the projects you will now be overseeing?”
This is the moment to tell Kate I’m leaving.
The moment passed.
Feeling an odd rush of mingled relief and regret, Rebecca looked up into Kate’s suddenly suspicious eyes. “I’m sorry, I zoned out for a second. Of course I’ll meet after lunch. You look happy, Kate.”
“I am.” Kate’s face changed as if she’d surprised herself. “I honestly do feel happy, Rebecca. Thank you.”
After Kate left, Rebecca sat, trying to understand why she’d just canceled out every decision she’d agonized over all weekend.
I can’t separate business and personal decisions like men do. People are depending on me. I can’t leave right now. Even if it means I can’t be with David in the way I want.
She had the strangest feeling that the universe was trying to tell her something profound. But what? That she was torn about what she really wanted and now she had time to ponder what was really important to her?
Her phone rang, and she stared at it with the strangest sensation of expectation.
Another cosmic message, perhaps?
Slowly, she answered. “Rebecca Covington.”
“Hello, it’s David.” The sound of his voice sent warm little flutters through her. Not cosmic, but close.
This
message she got loud and clear.
“I’m at WBS, and I may have to fly to New York on business tomorrow. But I’ll be back at the
Daily Mail
on Wednesday. Can I see you?”
“I’ll be right here.” She smiled, cradling the phone against her cheek. “Let’s see what happens.”
If Kate didn’t need her, Rebecca would have already moved to the
Journal and Courier
before David returned on Wednesday. Would he have understood her leaving was purely a business decision and nothing personal? Yet, in a way it was so very personal. It was the door to the future, where she could have her identity back as Chicago’s most notorious gossip columnist and be with David.
An offer as attractive as Charlie’s might never come her way again. The same could be said of a man like David.
Deep inside, behind her facade, fear flickered to life. Her relationship with David, whatever it might be, had played into her decision. Once, Kate had called her reckless, and now Rebecca realized she was taking the gamble of a lifetime.
Knowing she needed more time, hoping he wouldn’t throw in his hand, Rebecca made the call to Charlie.
“I’ve been expectin’ to hear from you, Rebecca.” She could hear assurance in his voice.
“Charlie, I want to thank you and Martha for a lovely dinner Saturday night.” She’d carefully planned her words. “I
so
appreciated shooting the breeze with such dear, generous friends. I’d like to do it again. But I need a little more time to fulfill my obligations here.”
His silence was mercifully brief and ended with his rumbling laughter. “It was an interestin’ night. We’d like to do it again real soon. I believe we still have a great deal to discuss. You give me a call when you’re ready and willin’ for another go at it.”
Relief warmed her skin. Charlie was leaving the offer on the table, just as she’d hoped. “Thank you, Charlie. I’ll be in touch.” She hung up the phone and stared into space. If only she could see into the future and know where her choices, reckless and not, were leading her.
DAILY MAIL WEDNESDAY FOOD
SAUSAGE SURPRISE
3 tablespoons oil
¾ pound fully cooked pork, chicken, or turkey sausages, thickly sliced into rounds
1 pound fresh wild mushrooms (such as crimini or stemmed shiitake), thickly sliced
4 garlic cloves, minced
½ teaspoon dried crushed red pepper
1 10-ounce package ready-to-use spinach leaves
1½ cups canned low-salt chicken broth
¾ pound penne pasta, freshly cooked
2 cups (about 8 ounces) grated Romano cheese
Heat oil in heavy large pot over medium-high heat. Add sausages, mushrooms, garlic, and crushed red pepper. Sauté until mushrooms begin to brown, about 10 minutes. Add spinach and broth; toss until spinach wilts, about 2 minutes. Add pasta and cheese; toss until cheese melts and sauce coats pasta, about 3 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Serves 4.
A Note from Rebecca Covington
We all know about the megarich group of bachelors who invite wealthy, attractive, foxy, sexy single and married women to their Annual Mingle Party given in the most chic locales on Earth, including Chicago. Of course our fair city is chic—the rest of the world just hasn’t accepted the fact yet!
One of the fascinating bachelors’ claim to fame is that he once danced with Princess Di. Don’t you love it? We adore this group of handsome hunks.
Alas, there is another subset of randy bachelors who are not so divine. They have their own party, called “Nooky Nourishment for Passionate Cannibals.” I know, darlings, the title alone should have warned off the lovelies who chose to attend.
Absolutely every dish was a phallic symbol. A sausage with whole figs as testicles and bleu cheese sauce as . . . (shudder) . . . elicited a few nervous chuckles.
The next course, a pancake shaped like a woman’s womb, with lobster thermidor spilling out, drove most of the ladies from the room, never to return.
The lesson for these clueless men—if they want to set the proper scene for seduction—is quite simple. Most women have not seen the “food as a sex toy” film
9½ Weeks,
while all have watched and sighed over the elegant, sublimely sexy
Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
Yes, gentlemen, class counts.
Because I care so much, I changed Sausage Surprise from an X rating to a P. Perfectly Palatable.
Enjoy!
Xo Rebecca
W
ednesday morning, still wearing her bathrobe, Rebecca waited for Harry in her doorway. It reminded her of waiting for David, except her emotions had been charged in a completely different way. She loved Harry like the brother she’d never had. David, on the other hand . . . a little pleasure shiver ran along her skin.
How should I label what I feel for David?
“Happy birthday, sweet pea!” Harry called from the open elevator.
He was dressed in an impeccably tailored, subtle, pinstriped suit, his hair slicked back very Rupert-like. He couldn’t have looked more debonair gently swinging the open picnic basket holding champagne, strawberries, and croissants. His annual early morning offering to Rebecca on her birthday.
“Harry, you’re an angel, but I told you not to fuss this year.” She tried to scold him, but her stomach growled at the aroma of warm, buttery croissants, overriding her feeble protests.
Bending, kissing her cheek, he smiled when he heard the rumbling. “Thou protest too much. Let us partake of this feast before we must face the real world.”
Over her mimosa and Harry’s straight orange juice, Rebecca picked up the thread of a nagging thought from yesterday. Had she made the right choice by staying for Kate’s sake? “Harry, do you think I smother people with my need to fix things for them?”
He blinked his ridiculously long lashes. “You’re pensive this morning. Is it about your age? Haven’t you heard, our forties are the new twenties?”
“Harry, I’m serious.”
“I can see that.” He reached across the small table to hold her hand. “You’re the best friend anyone could have, and we love you for it. Pauline and the girls have baked a cake for tonight. Kate and I are bringing the champagne and chocolate. Today you will be celebrated in the way you deserve.” His smile was so warm and kind, she actually could feel his love in the air around her. “You want the world to always be just to everyone in the same way. You particularly want it to be fair to those of us you love. When you perceive the world as being unjust, you shore it up until it equals out again. My only concern is that you are not always fair to yourself.”
“So if I wasn’t . . . say . . .
here.
Or at the
Daily Mail
office, you all would carry on quite well without me.”
His grip tightened on her hand and his eyes bore into her. “Is there something wrong? A health issue I need to know about?”
She laughed to reassure him. “Heavens, no. I’m wonderfully healthy. Maybe it is my age. I just need a reality check to make sure I don’t think I’m so important the world can’t spin properly without my hand on the rim.”
She could see the relief in his eyes. He kissed her hand. “Yes, sweet pea. We could carry on without you, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. Speaking of fun. I have two rhinoplasty surgeries to perform this morning. The real world beckons.”
For a very long time, Rebecca’s world had been the
Daily Mail.
She’d hidden behind the Rebecca Covington persona for so long it had become the biggest part of her. That’s why she’d been so desperate to get it back. Now her view of the world had shifted because of David, and she’d gotten a part of herself back she had believed long gone.
Slightly dizzy from one and a half mimosas so early in the morning, coupled with serious soul-searching, Rebecca was already feeling a little surreal when she walked through the doors into the
Daily Mail.
She gasped at the lobby transformed into a garden by dozens of red roses in vases placed on every flat surface, except Pauline’s desk, where there was a perfect white rose in a crystal bud vase.
“There are forty-five long-stem roses,” Pauline whispered, as if everyone in town didn’t already know Rebecca’s age thanks to Shannon’s spiteful exposé.
Rebecca’s fingers trembled slightly as she tore open the card.
They must be from David.
She recognized George’s bold, black writing immediately and tried to disguise her disappointment. “The flowers are from George, reminding me that weeks ago I promised to have dinner with him Saturday night.”
Pauline’s mouth curled into a big “oh” of surprise. “You’re dating . . . both of them?”
“No, I’m not dating either one. Well, not exactly,” Rebecca amended. “Keep a vase of flowers and take another for the girls.”
Kate walked into the lobby, and Rebecca handed her a dozen roses. “For your office.”
Kate shook her head. “What are you doing? It’s your birthday we’re celebrating today.”
Swinging a brown alligator briefcase, David strolled down from the executive hallway. His gaze stopped on Rebecca and then moved to the bouquets of roses. “What are we celebrating?” he asked in a friendly way.
“Today is Rebecca’s birthday,” Pauline exclaimed with her usual enthusiasm.
Again David’s eyes met Rebecca’s. “From an admirer?”
His voice held not a note of intimacy, but his gaze brought a flush to her cheeks. They might have been the only people in the room.
Or maybe it’s the effects of champagne before nine in the morning.
Believing discretion was the better part of valor, particularly in front of a rapt audience of her friends, Rebecca did her best to ignore the heat between them.
“Yes, they are from an admirer. But I’m sharing. Would
you
like some flowers for your office?”
His lips twitched in apparent amusement. “No, thank you, Rebecca. I’ll be at the television station for the rest of the week. Have a good day, ladies.”
The lobby seemed strangely empty after he was gone. And strangely silent.
She glanced around at Kate and Pauline. Questions burned from their eyes. Especially from Pauline, who was pressing her lips together to keep from speaking.
