It's News to Her (5 page)

“Mayor Steel, Principal Updike, Superintendent Bradshaw, esteemed guests and graduating class—it's been a whirlwind day, but trust me, being here with you is still the high point.”

The students erupted in cheers and whistles. A good start—she could almost hear them thinking—it's about us.

“A few hours ago, I was in Texas trying to keep career politicians and strategists—some of the top movers and shakers in the state and country—from gobbling up precious air time with their spin, and now I'm here looking at your vibrant, intelligent faces eager to charge toward the rest of your lives. That's the speed at which the world is spinning.

“But for a twist of fate, I would have once sat in one of those chairs—where are you
H'
s?” As a few kids whooped and waved, Hunter pointed and smiled. “There you are. You girls are doing
way
cuter things with your hair than we did ten years ago.”

After another few laughs and one brave male senior calling “Looking hot, Hunter!” she grinned back and suggested, “I promise any of you with a strong science background that the world is your oyster if you can just develop good hair products that can withstand twelve-to sixteen-hour days under hot lights and Gulf heat and humidity.”

Then she grew slightly more somber, “Wherever you go, whatever you do, never stop believing in your dreams or challenging yourself. When I lost my father on the eve of the junior prom, I struggled to believe that things would ever be bearable again. Sometimes it was rough, even though I had a great relationship with my mother, and we were fortunate that my father had
planned for such a catastrophe, so money wasn't our top concern. But it is for many.

“The thing is that Mom was hurting, too, and suddenly had her hands full, becoming the sole provider of a teenage daughter who was expecting to get a car, go to college, gain her independence. My mother was so shattered, she was afraid to let me out of her sight even to go to classes. I knew I needed more input, more help than my steady and sturdy grandparents. The church and my new school's counselors helped. Mentoring is always there if you'll open the door to the idea and just ask. That's how I came to KSIO. I wrote Mr. Henry to ask why he didn't have an internship program, and he called me and said, ‘Come and be our lab experiment.'”

That comment and her comic, openmouthed look of terror won her laughs and more applause.

“Well, that dear man became my next mentor and slowly the world turned right-side up again. In the decade since I left Mahwah, I've had the privilege to interview two governors, one president, several Academy Award winners, a Nobel Prize winner and way too many wounded soldiers returning from war. I'm going to guess that I don't need to tell you which of them impressed and inspired me the most?”

There were more cheers and someone shouted, “Go Army!” Amid cheers someone else shouted, “Oorah, marines!”

The applause and cheers rose to a roar. It was clear that a number of kids were entering the military instead of enrolling in college. Hunter nodded and called back,
“God bless and thank you for your service, ladies and gentlemen.”

As she drew to a close, she said, “And so, be curious, be open to new ideas and weigh other perspectives with the respect they deserve, but
never
allow yourself to wake up one morning without remembering the enthusiasm for life you feel today or lose sight of your core values. And for goodness' sake, never leave home without sun block or hand sanitizer! Congratulations, graduates!”

The stadium thundered with cheers and applause. Principal Updike rejoined her at the podium to take her hand within both of his. “That was refreshing and insightful.”

“Well, a touch of levity makes the medicine go down easier.”

It took another hour before the ceremonies were over and the awards and diplomas distributed. Then it was an hour after that before Cord and Hunter made it as far as the limo.

Once they were on their way back to the airport, Cord pulled at the knot in his tie. “Well done—again. How you managed to keep the excitement level up after having put in the long day you did, I don't know.”

“Not everyone would agree with you. I saw a couple of yawns down there in the graduate pit,” she drawled, fidgeting in her impulse to slide her shoes off of her aching feet.

“I'm pulling rank—you're not permitted to nitpick
yourself tonight. Besides, not everyone is going to grow up to be a rocket scientist or even a hair stylist.”

She would be foolish not to appreciate the compliment, but Hunter had her own grading level for herself. “Yes, but I was judging myself, not the audience.”

“I would expect you to say nothing less modest.” Up front, Lane called ahead to the plane to let them know they were on their way while Cord checked the small refrigerator. “Thirsty? I know the bar in this thing comes stocked with champagne.”

“Water for now, please. I'm as dry as if I read them the entire Sunday edition of
The New York Times
. I might take a glass of bubbly on the plane if you meant it about feeding me on the way home.”

Hunter eagerly accepted the cool bottle he handed her. As she drank, she glanced out her window to see how much of her surroundings she remembered. It was dark, and traffic was heavy due to other graduation ceremonies in the area. The many parties were adding to the usual congestion for this outer wing of one of the country's major metropolitan areas. While Hunter had enjoyed herself, she was glad the day was over. The celebrity part of this business drained her of energy as much as flying chiseled at her nerves. She understood the need for it, but it still left her physically and emotionally depleted.

“Please forgive my informality,” she said abruptly, “but I give up. I have to get these off.” She leaned forward and slipped off her shoes.

Cord murmured his approval. “Thank goodness,
you're human after all. I wondered how you managed over fifteen hours in those things. Fred says most of the time you ditch them the minute you slide into your anchor seat.”

“Fred is going to be told that he talks too much,” Hunter replied. But she said it with affection for her producer.

“All of it is praise. He's almost as crazy about you as my grandfather is. I'm going to suggest to him that he and Tom discuss a behind-the-scenes segment and show what all is involved for you as you prepare for your programs every day.”

“Isn't TV littered enough with reality shows?” Hunter asked before taking a long swallow of water.

“Yes, but we're not talking about junk, sex and gossip.” Cord turned halfway in his seat to face her. “Reporting has taken a black eye over the years, and journalists are often disliked and distrusted as much as politicians and lawyers.”

“So you want me to be a cheerleader for the industry? I'll beg you to fire me first. A better idea would be to put young people on TV to encourage their peers to vote. It's pitiful that in this day and age more senior citizens are voting than people under the age of twenty-five.”

“Can't argue with you there,” Cord replied. “Maybe we'll start doing something with local schools. Be careful, you may have just earned yourself more work.”

Hunter saluted him with her bottle. “Believe me, that kind of assignment would be a treat.”

“Because you're that civic-minded or you like kids as much as you seem to?”

“Both.”

“Do you plan to have your own someday?”

Well, that didn't take long,
she thought. “There you go, diving into personal information again.”

Undeterred, Cord said, “I'll take that as an affirmative. You all but cooed over your former schoolmates' pictures of their children.”

“Because the last time I saw Lisa and Mike, we were discussing Lisa getting her driver's license, while my mother insisted I should wait until we got to Texas. I had no idea they were together, let alone had children. It was a nice surprise.”

“Was it? He's the one who was supposed to take you to the junior prom that you didn't attend, right?”

“That really didn't take much deductive reasoning, Mr. Rivers.”

“What's it going to take for you to call me Cord?”

More hypnosis,
she thought. “We're not friends.”

“We will be if you'll stop being so stubborn.” When Hunter opened her mouth to reply, he quickly added, “Okay, as your boss, I give you a free pass whenever we're alone to call me Cord.”

Despite her initial intentions to dislike and distrust the man, he'd been nothing but kind and generous to her, and guilt started to act like a wet blanket on her resolve. Hunter allowed that it was probably fatigue and the news about Mr. Henry's illness that was compromising her judgment; nevertheless, she relented.

“Maybe. Sometimes…Cord.”

His smile lasted all the way back to the plane.

 

Hunter had to admit the return flight seemed to go faster than the trip up and allowed that it was more pleasant, as well. She wasn't even as anxious about flying. The champagne was undoubtedly helping.

When she had reclaimed the seat she'd sat in before, Cord resumed his on the opposite side. She supposed he was being kind again to make it easier for her to avoid looking outside. Plus, it allowed him to get a better view of her legs and bare feet, she concluded, catching him for the fourth time. Several of the crew had remarked about them on various occasions, so she supposed they were decent, and while her fingers might not be polished, her toenails were a cotton-candy pink. Men could get pretty silly about a woman's painted toenails.

“Are you a Democrat or Republican?” Cord asked from his side of the aisle Hunter did a double take. They had just exhausted the subject of where to get the best Asian takeout in San Antonio while devouring the takeout that Chris had obtained for them. “That's none of your business. I'm an American first, a journalist second, which ethically speaking means you're not supposed to be able to tell which way my feelings lean.” Then mischief got the best of her. “Besides, I'm neither. I'm an Independent.”

Cord gestured expansively. “Yet another thing we have in common. Who would have guessed it? What about TV in general?”

His eyes glistened in the subdued cabin light, and Hunter had to blink to keep from becoming transfixed. “I told you, my work leaves me with little time to follow any program with any dedication. I do well to catch movie trailers and keep up with box office statistics, so that I don't feel entirely clueless with what everyone else is talking about in the hallways or when we have a special guest from the entertainment world stopping by. I'm almost as bad about reading anything that's fiction on the bestseller lists. My desk and nightstand are stacked with nonfiction.”

“Does that mean you're also in the dark regarding sports?”

“Not guilty, Your Honor. My mother will tell you that she worried I'd grow up to be a tomboy what with me watching New York Mets games with my father at every opportunity. You probably can name fewer presidents than I can name Texas baseball, football and basketball players.”

Narrowing his eyes, Cord replied, “George Washington.”

“Tony Dimples Romo, Dallas Cowboys.”

“That's ridiculously easy considering that it's obvious you have a thing for men with dimples,” Cord scoffed.

“A mere coincidence—and who are you to complain about easy? Just about everyone has to memorize the list of presidents in school. I have to know the games and understand positions to recall players.”

 

It was almost one in the morning when they approached the San Antonio Airport.

They had fallen into a companionable silence. Hunter was almost comfortable enough to nap.

“You're exhausted,” Cord said. “Take tomorrow off. I'll arrange for—”

“Absolutely not.” Sitting forward to stretch her spine and then tilting her head back and forth to get the kinks out, Hunter added, “Did you forget that your grandfather wanted the announcement made about his retirement this morning?”

He dropped his head against the headrest. “You know, I was enjoying myself so much that I did. Maybe that's a Freudian thing, too, since I've been trying
not
to think about Gramps's surgery.” Turning to look at her again, he said, “We're asking a great deal of you.”

“It's my honor—and I understand completely and sympathize about dreading what's ahead. I do, as well.” She was glad she was seeing this side of him, some vulnerability. It made her feel less wary about the changes that were inevitable at the station. “I'll have something drafted by the time I arrive for the morning news. Do you need me to fax it to you at your home or email it to your BlackBerry?”

“Faxing to the house would be great, only because I want to be with him and Lenore when it airs, and this way I can be semi-prepared for the emotional hit and better prepared to help them. You do have a talent for pulling at the heartstrings.”

“Too much emotion?” Hunter asked, immediately worried.

“Perfect. Your sincerity and warmth allows the viewer to feel safe in accepting their own feelings. It's a wonderful gift.”

Lowering her eyes, Hunter checked the tightness of her seat belt. “Thanks, then I'll fax it to you as soon as I can.”

“But you should have my email address for your BlackBerry,” Cord added. “And my wireless number. Just in case.”

After she retrieved her BlackBerry to insert the information before Chris came to tell them to shut things down, Cord dictated, and she quickly punched the proper keys. “I guess you should have mine.”

“I already do.”

She couldn't ignore the subtle tremor that raced through her. It could have been a result of the softness of his voice, almost a caress, or the way he looked at her as though she was that last sip of champagne he'd enjoyed. Intimacy had become unwelcome and foreign to her since Denny, and the cocktail of that concept and Cord Rivers was more intoxicating than the champagne.