Lake News (21 page)

It wasn't so in Lake Henry, where a town meeting was more a social experience easing the monotony of mud season than a policy-making body. In reality, as they arose,
the everyday details of town life were handled by the police chief, the postmaster, and the town clerk. The more weighty matters at millennium's end, though, had to do with ecological interests. These were handled by the Lake Henry Committee.

The committee had first formed in the 1920s, when the growing influx of summer residents made the year-rounders edgy. Committee members focused on preserving the beauty of the lake and its land. Over the years, as ecological interests gained prominence, the committee's power grew.

It had no size limit. Anyone could belong. The only qualification was that attendance at monthly meetings was mandatory. When an emergency meeting was called, usually in reaction to a move by the state legislature that locals considered intrusive to their rights, members were expected to attend unless they had good reason not to. At any given time there were thirty members, give or take. Each January they celebrated the new year by electing a leader from their ranks.

Cassie Byrnes was in her fourth year as chairman of the Lake Henry Committee. She was the first woman to hold that position and, thirty-five now, still the youngest person ever, but her selection had been unanimous. A lifelong resident of Lake Henry, she had left town only to attend college and law school. The ink was barely dry on her degree when she returned to town to hang out a shingle. In the ten years since, she had become something of a local activist.

Lily waited for her on the porch. The lake was foggy today, but peaceful. It helped keep her nervousness in check.
When she heard the sound of a motor, she walked around to the front of the cottage. She was waiting there when Cassie pulled up in a compact car that was every bit as worn as the old borrowed wagon. Crammed into the back along with what looked to be heavy jackets, a hockey stick, and a fast food bag were two child seats.

Cassie was a working mother, but the only frazzle about her was her curly blond hair. Slipping the strap of a leather pouch on her shoulder as she climbed from the car, she looked fully composed. Her long legs were encased in jeans, her slender upper half in white silk. She wore a blazer, a flowered scarf, and boots.

“Thanks for coming,” Lily said.

Cassie smiled. “We were wondering if you'd come back. Speculation is second nature to Lake Henryites. No one knows I'm here, though. Your secret is safe with me as long as you want it kept.” She extended a hand. “It's been a long time.”

Lily took her hand. Cassie had been a year ahead of her in school, and light-years more popular. Her handshake now was confident and firm. Lily hoped she had the legal ability to match it.

They might have talked on the porch with the fog assuring confidentiality, but it was too cool and damp to stay outside long. So Lily led her into the cottage and offered her coffee. They sat in the living room, Lily in the armchair, Cassie on the sofa.

“You've followed the story?” Lily began.

“Oh, yes. Hard not to, what with a local involved.”

“Have you seen today's papers?”

“I have. The Vatican cleared the Cardinal, and the
Post
apologized to him but not to you,” Cassie said with a quickness that encouraged Lily. “It doesn't surprise me. The press has legal eagles on retainer. They tell editors what the law requires, and those editors don't go one drop beyond that. The
Post
issued an apology but not a retraction. It could be that unless the Cardinal demands one, it won't be offered. Or it could appear later in the week. There are statutes covering retractions, where they should be, how big. I'd have to look at the Massachusetts statutes to know how things work there.”

Lily didn't care about statutes. She was talking sheer common sense. “But how could I not have been included in an apology? If I was half party to an alleged sexual affair, and the other half has been exonerated and given a public apology, how can I be ignored? How can charges be made on the front page, and apologies issued somewhere back inside?”

“That's how it works,” Cassie said on a note of disgust.

Angry, Lily hung her head. She swallowed, trying to organize her thoughts. When she was ready, she looked up. “What's been done to me is morally wrong. That won't change. But laws have been broken, too. That's what I need to talk with you about.”

“You're not working with Maxwell Funder?”

“No. He wanted the case for the publicity, and for the money.” She told Cassie the figure Funder had tossed out.

Cassie rolled her eyes. “No surprise there, either. He's with a fancy firm. There are people who will pay his fees. So he may be giving you a cut rate on those hourly fees, but they're
still out of sight. Did he give you the spiel about out-of-pocket costs?” Lily had barely nodded when Cassie said, “Court costs aren't much in a case like this. At least, not up here.”

That was a new thought. “Can I use the New Hampshire courts?” Lily asked.

“Why not? The papers in question are all sold here. That means you've been libeled in New Hampshire as much as in Massachusetts or New York.”

Lily took heart. “Libel
is
what it is. They've said things about me that are lies, and what they didn't say, they implied.”

Cassie held up a cautionary hand. “What they implied will be harder to prove.” She took a pad of paper and a pen from her bag. “Let's start with what they said.”

“They said I was having an affair with the Cardinal. That is not true.”

Cassie made notes. “Okay. That's point one. What else?”

“They said I was having an affair with the governor of New York.”

“Said, or implied?”

“Implied, but strongly.”

Cassie rocked a hand. “That's a maybe. What other direct accusations were made?”

“That I said I was having an affair with the Cardinal. That I was in love with him. That I followed him to Boston.”

“Didn't you say those things?”

“Not the way he implied,” Lily said, angry and embarrassed at the same time. “We were talking about a hypothetical
woman saying she was having an affair with the Cardinal. So Terry reported it like it was
me
. I said I loved the Cardinal like many other people love the Cardinal. It was generic. And I did follow him to Boston chronologically, but not for the purpose of following him there.”

Cassie was frowning. “Those are all maybes. You said those words. He took them out of context. He's apt to claim it was an innocent misunderstanding on his part. The case won't make it to court unless we can prove malice. Do you know him?”

“No,” Lily answered, frustrated now. “He had been approaching me for a piece he was doing on performers, but I kept turning him down. The first time we did any real talking was at the club the night before he broke the story. He led me into those statements, Cassie. But then there's the rest of what they printed.” She raced on, because it was all so wrong, so infuriating, so humiliating. “I didn't tell them where I shop or where I go on vacation, and I didn't tell them about the incident here when I was sixteen. Those charges were dropped. The file was supposed to be sealed.”

Cassie had been rapping her upper lip with her knuckles while Lily talked. Now she made a note on the pad. “Someone leaked it. The AG here should investigate that. The problem with the rest—where you shop and vacation—that information is available to the public. It shouldn't be, but it is. Anyone with a rudimentary knowledge of the Internet can get it.”

Lily was discouraged. “Then there's nothing I can do?”

“Not on that score.”

“But they broke laws, too. Someone tapped into my phone.”

“Do you know for sure?”

“No, but I heard a click when I was talking to my sister, and something from that conversation appeared in the paper the next morning.”

Cassie made a note on her pad. “For that we lodge a complaint with the AG's office in Massachusetts.”

Lily noted the “we” and spoke with greater hesitance. “I don't have much money. I'll give you what I have.”

“Hold your money,” Cassie said. “We'll discuss it as I incur costs.” She turned to a fresh sheet of paper. “I want to know everything about your relationship with the Cardinal, everything about your talk with Terry Sullivan, everything about what's happened to you since the story broke.”

Lily talked for the next hour. It was cathartic. Her voice rose and fell with emotion, but she didn't stutter once. Though Cassie injected an occasional question, she mainly listened and made notes. Finally Lily finished. Cassie sat quietly reviewing her notes. When Lily couldn't bear the suspense, she asked, “What do you think?”

“I think,” Cassie said, “that you do have a case for libel.”

“But?” Lily could hear it in her voice.

“But there are several issues. A major one is whether, by any stretch of the imagination, you can be considered a public figure. If legal precedent says that you are, a libel case becomes harder to prove. That's when malice becomes
the major issue. In any event, the first step is to send a retraction demand to the
Post
. It's required by law before we file a suit. We have to give the newspaper an opportunity to offer a retraction—and in our case, an apology—before we involve the courts.”

“How long do we give them?” she asked. She hadn't forgotten Funder's warning about a long, drawn-out, excruciatingly personal experience.

“A week. They don't need more. Want me to go ahead?”

One week wouldn't be bad. Lily had anger enough to go for that. She suspected that if the
Post
either refused or ignored their demand, her anger would carry her further. Besides, she felt strong with Cassie there, felt empowered thinking that there might be a righting of wrongs. As Poppy had pointed out, it was her life, her work, her name. If she didn't fight for it, no one else would.

“Yes,” she said calmly. “I want to go ahead.”

While Lily and Cassie talked, John rocked back in his office chair with his feet on the desk, his hands around his coffee mug, his eyes on the foggy lake, and his mind on why the
Post
had ignored Lily. It was no sweat off his back; his book would work either way. But the more he thought, the more annoyed he grew. On impulse he picked up the phone and punched out a familiar number.

“Brian Wallace,” mumbled a distracted voice at the other end of the line. Brian had been John's editor at the
Post
. He continued to be Terry Sullivan's editor.

“Hey, Brian. It's Kip.”

The voice picked up. The two men had been friends. “How're you doin', Kip?”

“Great. You?”

“Busy. It never lets up. There are times I think you had the right idea, chucking the daily grind. So now you're up there in the sticks. Who'da known a big story would break right in front of your nose?”

“It's in front of
your
nose. It happened in Boston.”

“But she's from your town. Terry says you're clamming up on us.”

“Terry wanted information I didn't have. And even if I'd known something, I wouldn't have given it to Terry,” John admitted, knowing that Brian would understand. Terry made enemies right and left.

“Huh,” Brian said. “That's blunt. So. Want to give that info to me?”

“What's to give?”

“She isn't up there?”

“If she is, she's hiding out good. People around town haven't seen her.” Neither statement was a lie. Misleading, perhaps, but Brian Wallace had taught him well. “We're just following the story. Today's was interesting. It isn't often that the paper issues apologies.”

Brian blew out a breath. “The Church was pissed.”

“Now everyone up here is pissed. They're wondering why Lily didn't get an apology, too.”

Brian made a harsher sound. “Lily Blake should apologize to
us
. Christ, if she hadn't said those things, we wouldn't be embarrassed now.”

Not wanting to tip his hand about talking with Lily, John began treading with greater care. “Do you really
think she said those things? Or did Terry manufacture them?”

“I wouldn't have run it if he had.”

“Do you know for sure that he didn't?”

There was a short pause, then a cooler voice. “Is that an accusation?”

“Come off it, Brian. This is
me
you're talking to. I know what went on behind the scenes there a time or two. I worked with Terry. I also went to school with the guy. It wouldn't be the first time he's fabricated a story.”

“Careful, John.” They were opponents now. “Statements like that can be libelous.”

“And what he's written about Lily Blake isn't? Aren't you worried she'll sue?”

“Nope.”

He sounded so sure, John was more annoyed than before. “Why not? The story was false. You admitted it yourself. Doesn't that tell you Terry got it wrong?”

“Christ, John,” Brian shot back, “do you honestly think we'd have run a story like that without damn good cause to believe it? Do you honestly think
I'd
have run it based on Terry's say-so? I know what he's done in the past, so I watch him closely. He'd been telling me about that relationship for weeks, right from the very first rumors that Rossetti might be elevated, and I told him I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole unless he got more than circumstantial evidence. But he got it. I have a tape. A tape, John. Lily Blake said those things, no doubt about that. So maybe she's crazy. Maybe she has a crush on the guy. Maybe she's fantasized about him so long
and hard that she started thinking it was true. But she did say those things. I heard it myself.”