Close to You, page 7
“It is no problem, senora. I live with my grown-up daughter and her family in Westwood, just ten minutes away from HoHoKus. My other children are back in Guatemala, so there is no need of me to take care of them. If you can’t come right home after work, that is okay, because no one is waiting for me.”
The woman had come dressed for her interview in a flowered shirtwaist dress and wore a double strand of costume pearls at her neck, and round pearl button earrings. Her low-heeled, black patent-leather pumps, while undoubtedly purchased at a discount store, looked like they were brand-new. Eliza sensed that Mrs. Garcia had made a special effort to make a good first impression.
“Do you mind my asking how old you are, Mrs. Garcia?” Eliza knew that at KEY she could be sued for asking a prospective employee that question.
“Fifty.”
“You look much younger.”
Carmen Garcia may have been a little older than Eliza would have preferred, but Eliza liked everything else about her. There was a certain loveliness and modesty and formality to her. She expected that Janie would like her too. A bonus would be the chance for Janie to pick up some Spanish.
As Mrs. Garcia left the office, Eliza heaved a deep sigh of relief. This was the job she had been dreading, finding someone she could trust enough, feel confident enough about, to leave her daughter in her care. Her instincts told her that this woman was the right one to watch out for her little girl.
Thank God, one huge thing off the list.
Now she had to get through saying good-bye to Mack
Chapter 28
“Once I get the lay of the land over there, I’ll be able to tell when I’ll be able to come back for a long weekend. It shouldn’t be too long.”
Mack was trying hard to sound positive as they sat, arms wrapped around each other, in Eliza’s moving-crate-strewn living room. This would be their last night together. The transatlantic flight schedule meant that Mack would be in the air tomorrow as Eliza was anchoring the news. It was just as well, Eliza rationalized, to say their good-byes here tonight, privately, rather than bid farewell at the crowded British Airways terminal at Kennedy Airport.
Eliza stared silently into her wineglass as she swirled the deep red Merlot inside. They both knew it was going to be extremely difficult for either one of them to get away for a long weekend anytime soon. She had been anchoring Evening Headlines for less than two months, there was a presidential election coming up, and she didn’t feel comfortable taking time off yet. She was certain Range wouldn’t appreciate it.
Mack was even less likely to be able to get away. As the chief London correspondent, his beat was all of Europe. Any news event, election, war or disaster, natural or manmade, was his to cover. He had to be available, ready to go anywhere at anytime.
They would be lucky if they saw each other at Christmas, Eliza thought glumly.
Snap out of it! Was she going to spend their last hours together drowning in sadness, whining and worrying about what was to become of their relationship? She didn’t want Mack to remember her like that. She wanted him flying away tomorrow with peace of mind yet aching to be together again. She wanted to feel that way herself.
Be brave. Have some style. She tried to rally.
“More wine?” she offered, too brightly, eyeing his empty glass. She emptied the rest of the bottle into both their glasses and took a long swallow. A droplet escaped from the corner of her mouth and Mack leaned over and tenderly kissed it away.
She responded to his lips hungrily, inhaling the familiar, wonderful smell of his aftershave and feeling overwhelmed with desperation. She wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go. She wanted Mack to be with her now and, she hoped, always. They needed more time together.
Why was it that every man she loved was taken from her?
Chapter 29
Before pulling the cream-colored Lexus onto the hydraulic lift, Augie sorted through the keys on the silver ring. He slipped off the three that looked like house keys and put them in the top pocket of his overalls.
At lunchtime he told the mechanics he was going to the bank. And he did, but first he drove out to the Home Depot on Route 17. There, he had copies of the keys made. Augie rarely got the same guy twice at the giant supply center. If he routinely brought in keys to be copied at the small local hardware store, the owner would surely become suspicious.
The Lexus was back in the Palumbos’ long driveway by four o’clock. Augie rang the doorbell and handed the complete key ring to Mrs. Palumbo.
“Thank you so much for squeezing me in on such short notice, Augie. We’re leaving for Point Pleasant tomorrow and I really wanted to have the car gone over before we go”
“No problem, Mrs. P. Happy to do it Mr. Palumbo can settle with me next time he stops in for gas.”
He smiled and shook his head as he walked down the driveway to the truck that had followed him over so that he would have a ride back to the station.
God, people were stupid. Trusting, but stupid.
Chapter 30
Joe Connelly remained in his small office adjoining the main security room at the Broadcast Center later than usual that evening, entering the newest data into his ABERRANT BEHAVIOR computer program. He currently had sixty cases in his computer culled from mail and telephone threats coming into KEY News headquarters and KEY affiliates around the United States. Some of the cases were simple. Some were extremely complex.
Eliza Blake received lots of odd correspondence, but not all that many threats. Most of the letters that came addressed to her were more persistent nuisances than anything truly alarming. After years of experience, Joe had learned what to dismiss and what to take notice of.
The ordinary letters, those commenting on stories or asking for a signed photo of Eliza, went to KEY Audience Services. The scary stuff was sent to security. As Joe typed in a fresh entry about this clown Meat’s latest letter, he marveled that Eliza’s new assistant had such a knack for separating the wheat from the chaff.
In Connelly’s experience, on-air women got more letters than on-air men. Female correspondents, especially at local stations, bore the brunt of the nut mail. Joe thought it was because the women gave off a more approachable aura on the screen. It wasn’t a function of how cutesy they were. It was because they looked open and welcoming.
For Eliza Blake, the same qualities that made her popular with the sane viewing audience made her vulnerable to wackos.
The trick was to tell how bad the threat really was. And to decide when to intervene and with what. If he intervened prematurely or inappropriately it could exacerbate the situation.
Joe scanned the letter again, looking for common verbiage used in the preceding letters. “Blood” was Meat’s word of choice.
Dear Miss Arrogant Defiant Eliza Blake,
You think you know so much.
But you don’t.
Vampire bats suck blood, but did you also know that they adopt orphans and risk their lives to share food with less fortunate roost-mates?
That’s what you should do. Learn from the bats. Stay home and take care of that little girl of yours like a good mother would. Instead you choose to parade around each night, strutting your stuff out in the open for the whole country to see.
I’ve told you before and I’m getting sick of repeating myself. Clean up your act. Cover yourself up and stop showing skin.
I’d like nothing more than to suck your crimson blood. Keep it up, white Eliza, and I will. I promise you I will.
Meat.
Evaluating a letter was always a judgment call based on experience and intuition. Joe Connelly’s gut told him that Meat was trouble.
Chapter 31
KayKay and Poppie were lifesavers, insisting that Eliza take their car until she found the time to buy one.
“It just sits in that garage for days on end, dear. We rarely use it,” offered Katharine. “You’d be doing us a favor by driving it for a while. A car should be driven, you know. Poppie says that it’s not good for it to sit idle all the time.”
Eliza had just gotten home from work and she was acutely aware that at this moment Mack was now somewhere over the Atlantic. She was too tired and upset to protest, and truth be known, she was very thankful for the offer.
“That’s so generous of you, Katharine. If you really don’t mind, I will take you up on it. The closing is tomorrow, we move in on Saturday and I just haven’t had a minute to even think about getting a car. I promise it won’t be for too long.”
Katharine stared at Eliza with a look of concern in her knowing eyes. She knew all about her daughter-in-law’s relationship with Mack McBride and she approved of it wholeheartedly. It had been five years now since John had died. Much as Katharine struggled every day with the loss of her son, she wanted his widow to have a happy life and find love again. In the short time Eliza had been with Mack, Katharine had seen the difference in Eliza’s demeanor, the way she laughed more easily than she had in years. Mack had been there for Eliza to lean on during the past difficult summer and Katharine had observed his obvious devotion. Janie adored Mack as well and Katharine wanted her grandchild to have a father figure.
She was worried about both mother and child. Just too much was happening at once.
“You keep it as long as you need it, dear,” she said, gathering up her pocketbook, and kissing Eliza on the cheek. “Janie, sweetheart,” she called down the hall toward the child’s bedroom, “KayKay’s leaving now.”
Both women smiled at each other as they heard the rapid little steps approaching from the hallway.
“ ‘Bye, KayKay. Love you.” The small arms held tight around her grandmother’s waist as Katharine leaned down and kissed the top of the sweet-smelling brown head. “Thank you for taking me for my haircut today.” The child beamed, proud of her freshly cut bangs and the purple nail polish that her grandmother had let her have applied on the tiny nailbeds.
“My pleasure, my darling. You’ll be the prettiest girl in kindergarten next week.”
Janie’s face clouded and Eliza stepped in, kneeling down to speak face-to-face with her child.
“Janie, I know you’re a little worried about starting at your new school. All kids are a little worried when they start school. I remember I was. Weren’t you, KayKay?”
Janie looked up at her grandmother skeptically. KayKay didn’t seem like she had ever been afraid of anything.
“I was, Janie,” Katharine nodded solemnly, “but once I got there, I loved it. Kindergarten will be so much fun.” What was the point in telling the child that she used to be so nervous before going to school every morning that she could barely swallow a glass of milk, much less eat the full breakfast her mother set out for her?
Janie’s face told them she wasn’t really buying it. Katharine decided to try to divert the child’s attention.
“Hey, run down to your room and get the new shoes we bought today to show Mommy!” she urged.
The child scampered away obediently and Katharine headed for the door. As she reached for the knob to let herself out, Katharine turned to her daughter-in-law and spoke in a low voice.
“You know, Eliza, I think it’s just as well that the new housekeeper can’t start right away. I think it will be good for Poppie and me to be there when Janie comes home from school in the beginning. I think she’ll feel more secure that way.”
As Janie came trotting back with her small cardboard shoebox, Eliza answered:
“I’ll feel more secure that way, too.”
Chapter 32
As the saying among real-estate brokers went, when it came to the closings, you went to the money. So Louise Kendall, Larson Richards and two lawyers showed up at the KEY News Broadcast Center at nine-thirty Friday morning to complete the final paperwork to transfer ownership of the house on Saddle Ridge Road. The lawyers were members of the bar in both New Jersey and New York, so there was no problem conducting the closing of a Garden State house in the Empire State office.
Louise had risen especially early, walking through the house one last time before driving into the city. Eliza had entrusted Louise with the task most homebuyers insisted on doing themselves: inspecting the home, room by room, one last time, before the final checks were handed over to the seller. The house was broom-clean and everything looked in order. The Realtor prayed that there would be no surprises once Eliza moved in.
Paige escorted the group from the lobby up the elevator to Eliza’s office. Ms. Blake was running just a few minutes behind, her assistant explained, but would be there soon.
While the others took seats, Larson Richards walked around the office, browsing at the books and inspecting the four Emmy statuettes that sat on the shelves. He looked at the picture of the little girl in the silver frame on Eliza’s desk. He noted the hand-knotted Turkish rug, in tones of blues and reds, that lay atop the standard-issue office wall-to-wall, lending an air of elegance to the room. The tufted leather sofa was strewn with attractive kilim pillows. Framed awards dotted the walls. But the best part of the office was the view through the windowed wall looking out at the news studio below.
The floor beneath buzzed with energy as dozens of men and women sat at their modern desks, typing busily on their computer keyboards, reading the wires and talking on the phones.
The anchor desk Richards had seen so often on television was located in the middle of the large studio, lit with dozens of bright lights suspended from the ceiling. Large television cameras were trained on the anchor chair. There was a glass office at the side of room where four men and one woman sat around an oblong table. He could see television screens in front of all of them, along with an additional half dozen television sets affixed to the walls.
“What goes on in there?” asked Richards, gesturing out the window to the glass office as Paige approached him with one of the cups of coffee that she was offering to everyone in the room.
Paige held out a paper napkin to Richards. “We call that ‘the Fishbowl.’ All the senior producers sit in there. It’s the command post for all the planning and coordinating of the Evening Headlines.”
Richards nodded nonchalantly, determined not to show any enthusiasm. He was impressed, all right, but he wasn’t about to act it. He was thrilled Eliza Blake was buying his parents’ house. He had been certain the deal would go through. There would be no problem with her coming up with the money. And maybe, if he played his cards right, he might be able to interest her in doing some investing with him.
Right now he just wanted Eliza to show up. He wanted to get this house closed and get the check in the bank before it shut its doors this afternoon. With the long Labor Day weekend ahead, he didn’t want to have to wait until Tuesday to make the deposit. He had to start drawing against the house money immediately.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. Please, excuse me.” Dressed in a stunning magenta suit, Eliza entered briskly, shaking her attorney’s hand and kissing Louise on the cheek. Eliza was sensitive to the fact that this once had been Louise’s husband’s office, and she guessed it might be somewhat difficult for her to be here.
But if it bothered Louise, she was courageous enough not to show it. The Realtor graciously introduced Eliza to the seller and his lawyer.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Richards. Your parents had a beautiful home and I’m so glad to be able to buy it.”
“I hope you’ll be very happy there, Ms. Blake,” said Richards, with his most charming smile. “We had great times in that house.”
He’s smooth, Eliza found herself thinking. Too smooth.
“Should we get to it?” suggested Eliza’s attorney. “I know Ms. Blake is very busy.”
One by one, the papers were signed. The homeowners’ insurance, the title insurance, the RESPA form so Uncle Sam would know who paid what to whom, and the Realtor’s commission statement. When Louise was handed her commission check, always paid by the seller, Eliza saw Larson Richards wince.
Finally the title was transferred, the deed was presented to the new owner of the home and the seller had his money. Richards rose quickly and extended his hand to Eliza.
“Well, good luck, Eliza, if I may call you that, seeing as I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other around.”
Eliza didn’t look forward to it.
As Richards and his lawyer headed toward the door, Louise called out.
“Oh, Mr. Richards, we need to get the combination for the safe in the master bedroom. Eliza may want to change it, of course, but in the meantime, with all the workmen in the house, she might have some things she wants to lock up.
A look of annoyance crossed Richards’ face.
Too bad if he’s bugged, thought Louise. With two million dollars in his pocket, it was little enough to cough up the combination. Larson damned well better come up with it.
Before leaving the Broadcast Center, Louise took the back staircase from the hallway outside Eliza’s office down to the Fishbowl on the floor below. Knowing that she would be in the building for Eliza’s closing, Range had told her to stop by and say hello.
Louise had known Range Bullock for years, in his role as her former husband’s producer. But it was only after Bill had died last spring that Louise and Range had become close.
“Died” is the nice way of saying it, Louise thought as she approached the Fishbowl doorway. Bill Kendall, world-renowned anchor of KEY Evening Headlines, had committed suicide. And devastated though she was that Bill had felt desperate enough to do the unthinkable, part of her still couldn’t forgive him for it, and for what he had done to their son, William. She would never understand how Bill could have left their child behind. She had had many dark days herself since the time they had found out that William had Fragile X syndrome, yet any thoughts she had had of checking out—and there had been a few of them—she had resolutely pushed out of her mind. William needed her. He needed both his parents.
In fairness to Bill, for nineteen years he had been a great father. He loved their boy. And William adored his dad. It had been almost six months since his father had died, but William still looked into the car expectantly when she came to pick him up at his group home. It broke her heart every time she saw the puzzlement in his face when she explained to him again that Daddy was gone now and wasn’t coming back.
