Close to You (9 page)

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.

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.”

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.

“Daddy's in heaven, right, Mom?”

“Yes, sweetheart, Dad's in heaven, watching over you and still loving you every single day.”

Damn Bill.

Range, a telephone cradled against his shoulder, was busily tapping at his computer keyboard. Sensing the presence of someone watching him, he looked up and smiled when he saw her.
Come in,
he mouthed.

The Fishbowl was empty save for the two of them, but Louise knew that the office wouldn't remain that way for long. The digital clock on the wall read 11:06. Nine minutes until Range would preside over the morning meeting in which the senior producers and writers would take their seats in the glass office and report on the dozens of stories developing around the world. By the end of the day only seven or eight would make the final lineup as pieces on the broadcast.

“All right, we'll talk later. Let me know what you hear from the Hurricane Center.”

Range hung up the phone and groaned. “Each year it's the same damned thing. From August to October we have to gear up with every freakin' hurricane alert. Most of 'em peter out to be no big deal, but there's always the chance that the whopper will hit.”

“Tell me about it,” said Louise, “I remember Bill going off to cover those nightmares and worrying myself sick over him.” She walked behind Range's chair and reached out to massage the muscles at the base of his neck. “A little tight today, are we?”

“Yeah, and I don't want this hurricane to interrupt our plans for the long weekend.”

After twenty years of being involved with men who worked in the news business, Louise had never really gotten used to the fact that breaking stories that had nothing to do with her life could very often force her to cancel her long-anticipated plans. But she had learned to be philosophical.
There was nothing she could do about it if she was to be involved with the two men who had excited her the most.

“Look. If it turns out we can't drive up to the Cape, it's not the end of the world. The traffic will be horrendous anyway. The weather up here is supposed to be glorious. We'll spend the weekend out at my place and relax out there. We'll barbecue and swim and do whatever our little hearts desire. Then, if you have to come into the office, you can.”