The corners of Deb’s lips lifted in a slow, thoughtful smile. “Just the fact that you gave us a chance to back out shows me we picked the right person.”
Something inside her softened and relaxed, like a sleeping-baby’s fist. She eyed Deb and Steve once again and saw their determined commitment to see this through. “All right then. Let’s get started.”
CHAPTER
FIVE
When she told her boss about the story, Miles nodded approvingly, his eyebrows climbing higher on his forehead. Paula got an appointment with Mr. Boccardi the next day.
Stepping back into Chicago General Hospital was something she did with teeth gritted and chin jutted forward. She was going to have to put the memory behind her to move forward with this story.
She’d e-mailed David and given him a brief synopsis of the story she was working on. He hadn’t e-mailed back, but it had only been a day. Tonight he would pick her up at the airport, and she would see if their relationship was still as strained as it had been when she left.
When she reached Mr. Boccardi’s office, he escorted her in. “How are you, Ms. Landin-Cohen?”
Paula suspected from the initial conversation with his secretary that she never would have gotten Mr. Boccardi’s time if she’d not been here for the interview the previous week. It was uncanny the way this was working out.
“Fine, thank you. Call me Paula, please.” She took the chair he offered on the front side of his mahogany desk. “How’s the new wing operating?”
“Is that a pun?” He smiled and brushed the few hairs he had across the top of his bald spot. He would have been an attractive man in his younger days with his strong jaw and clear green eyes.
She laughed. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
He steepled his hands across the stack of papers on his desk. “The wing is running like clockwork. I’ve had good feedback on the feature your station ran.”
“Glad we could help.”
She couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t be so happy when he learned why she was here now. Especially if he made her use the little ace in the hole.
He consulted his watch. “Now, what can I do for you, Paula?”
Right to the point. That wasn’t a problem for her. “I’m working on a story you might be familiar with. I’m doing an investigation for Deb and Steve Morgan.”
She watched his body straighten, as if drawn from the head by a string hanging from the ceiling. She imagined the string pulling Mr. Boccardi to his feet and sending him into a marionette dance. Judging by his initial reaction, she guessed she’d have to resort to a little coercion.
“I’ve already told the Morgans I would look into their case,” he said. “I am looking. We are doing everything we can to get to the bottom of this.”
It would do no good to anger him. “I’m sure you are, Mr. Boccardi. No one is questioning your resolve to find answers. The Morgans thought it would be helpful to have a professional look into it as well. Perhaps we can work together.”
He stood, his lips pinched so tight they went pale. “I’m not naive, Ms. Landin-Cohen. Despite the nice coverage your station did of this hospital’s wing, I know how reporters are. Bad as the paparazzi. Once you get the scent of a story that’ll make headlines, you’re like a bloodhound on the trail and you won’t be happy until there’s a dead body at the end.”
Paula gave him her most charming smile, one that seemed most effective with men. “Mr. Boccardi. Please don’t put me in a class with those crass tabloid reporters. I didn’t sniff this story out. The Morgans came to me, and I’d like to help them find answers. They’re terribly torn up over this whole—”
“Get out of my office.” Mr. Boccardi towered over her now, his chest puffed out like Popeye after a spinach binge.
She sighed. He was going to make her play dirty, and she really didn’t like playing dirty. She was a nice, small-town girl, but she did have big-city ambitions, and she wasn’t going to let a stubborn hospital administrator stand between her and an anchor chair.
She remained seated, despite his threatening position. “I was thinking of interviewing some of your staff as I leave today.”
“Do you need some help out, Ms. Landin-Cohen?” He could sneer words every bit as effortlessly as David. “And you can leave my staff alone.”
“I was thinking Leann Webber might be a good place to start.”
When she’d been at the hospital with the news crew, she’d overheard Leann talking to another nurse about her affair with Mr. Boccardi. Who knew the information would come in handy?
He wavered backward until his weight rested on his heels. His eyes widened ever so slightly, then narrowed. She’d hit her mark. He turned and walked slowly to the back side of his desk. He was collecting himself. Weighing his options. She almost felt sorry for him. She heard an announcement from somewhere in the hospital and a muted ambulance siren, probably delivering the latest victim of some violent act.
Finally Mr. Boccardi faced her.
She schooled her face in a mask of resolution.
“Very well.” His face was as tight as a trampoline. “You have me where you want me, as I’m sure you’re aware. What would you like to know?”
* * *
Linn placed the last plastic cup in the old ’70s model dishwasher and poured the powder detergent into the dispenser. Before she could shut the door and start the cleaning cycle, Charlotte whirled into the apartment, slamming the door.
“Linn,” she called from the living room.
“In here.”
When Charlotte rounded the corner, Linn could see something was definitely up with her roomie. For someone self-conscious about the sliver of a gap between her front teeth, she sure was smiling awfully big.
“Sheesh,” Linn said. “You look like a girl who just got proposed to.”
“Shut up. This is way better.” Charlotte tossed her glossy blond hair over her shoulder. “Remember how I was on a waiting list for a dorm? I got in!”
Linn’s stomach knotted. “What do you mean you got in?”
“See, there’s this sophomore who had to go home—family situation or something—so a slot opened up for next semester. Isn’t that fab?” Charlotte did a little joy jig. “I just signed the papers, and I get to move in next week!”
Well, that was just swell for Charlotte, but what about Linn? If Charlotte left, the rent would completely be up to her. And she hadn’t even found a job yet. Even if she did find a job, there was no part-time work that was going to pay rent and utilities anywhere around there.
Charlotte was still hopping on the floor, probably sounding like a herd of kangaroos to whoever lived below them. How could Charlotte have done this without checking with her? Linn never would’ve come to Chicago without a job and a place to live, and now she had neither.
“Hello? Did you even think about the mess this was going to leave me in?” Linn fired back.
Charlotte’s face fell like a punctured balloon. Clearly, she hadn’t given it any thought. Charlotte might make straight As, but she scored much lower on common sense.
“Oh man, Linn.” Charlotte plopped on the tweed sofa in their miniscule living room.
Linn followed. “I don’t even have a job anymore, remember?”
The girl should remember well. The morning she told Charlotte about losing her job, her roommate had been a little short on sympathy and a little heavy on indignation.
“You can get another roommate.” Charlotte hugged one of the sofa pillows. It was pink and fuzzy, a poor attempt at modernizing her ancient furniture.
It hit Linn then that even the furniture was Charlotte’s. She had nothing of her own but her clothes and cosmetics. She imagined herself camping out again as she’d done in Jackson Hole when she had no place to live. If she thought it was cold then, in the fall, what would it be like in the middle of a Chicago winter? Impossible—that’s what it would be.
At least she wasn’t pregnant this time . . .
It was a
good thing she left Jackson so soon after she gave birth. Otherwise she wouldn’t have had any time to find a job and a new roommate by the time school started.
Where would she find a roommate, though?
“I don’t even know anyone in town,” Linn said.
Charlotte’s shoulders drew up slightly. “You can advertise.”
Linn sagged into the recliner and closed her eyes.
God, where are You? I could use a break here. I haven’t even started classes and already I’m jobless and nearly homeless. I don’t know anyone here who can help me, and I haven’t gotten a single call back from all the applications I’ve—
“Sorry, Linn. But I’ve waited so long for a chance to live in a dorm.”
As much as it stunk, Linn knew she was right. Charlotte was a social bunny. They’d invented dorms for people like her. She was going to college as much for college experience as for the degree. Still, it was unfair to give Linn so little warning.
“You knew I was on the waiting list,” Charlotte said.
“You said you probably wouldn’t get in until next year.”
Charlotte’s nostrils flared. “Well, that’s what I thought. How was I to know someone was going to have a midyear crisis?”
“The same way I was supposed to know I was going to lose my job, I guess.” OK, so she had a sarcastic streak. But it was true. Charlotte had jumped all over her when she lost her job. As if it were her fault.
“Look, this isn’t my fault.” Charlotte wagged her head with attitude. “You could just be happy for me, you know.”
Linn wanted to grab Charlotte’s shoulders and shake her until some common sense knocked loose in that Barbie-doll head.
Silence hung between them until the phone rang. Linn got up and went to her room, letting Charlotte get the phone. It was always for her anyway. Linn didn’t have any friends yet in Chicago, and no one from back home—except Natalie, one time—had called. When Linn thought of Grace, her insides got all tight and hot. The baby was in good hands . . . the best. And Linn was getting on with her life, just like she wanted.
She rolled her eyes. So much for her life. No job, no place to live, no friends.
She flung herself on the bed, ready for a good pity party.
“It’s for you,” Charlotte called from the living room.
Linn’s mind flipped through the file of potential callers. Probably not Natalie, since she’d just called a few days ago. Maybe it was about one of the applications she’d filled out.
She jumped off the bed, more energized than she’d been in days. Opening her door, she took the receiver from Charlotte, covering the mouthpiece. “Did they say who it was?” she whispered.
Charlotte, obviously still ticked, flipped on the TV. “Adam something.”
It didn’t take long to place the name. If Linn were honest with herself, his name had popped into her head too frequently to attribute to a mere job possibility. Now, as she put the phone to her ear, she wondered which she hoped for more: that he was calling about a job or that he was calling just to talk to her.
“Hello?” She used her most professional voice, just in case.
“Hi, Linn, this is Adam Stoever. We met a couple of weeks ago at the coffee shop. I gave you a lift home.”
Like she could forget.
“Hi, Adam.” She hoped she sounded casual. “What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you were still looking for a job. The girl I was telling you about didn’t work out, and we have a position open if you’re interested.”
Boy, was she interested.
“I do still need a job. What would my responsibilities be?”
He explained that she would be waiting on customers, same as he, making espresso, keeping the workspace clean, et cetera. “You’d need to come in for an interview with Joe first. I can set that up if you want.”
“I’d love to. Just name the day and time.” She had nowhere to go.
They agreed on a day early the next week and hung up the phone.
Linn felt optimistic for the first time in days. Now, if only she had a place to live.
CHAPTER
SIX
Paula applauded and laughed with all the other women when her sister unwrapped the lacy, red negligee. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slipped into something like that for David. Couldn’t remember the last time he would have wanted her to. She shoved aside her negative thoughts and determined to focus on Natalie’s bridal shower.
They were all squeezed into their parents’ house, and her other sister, Hanna, was making a list of who gave what as Natalie opened gifts. The Christmas Eve wedding was a little over a week away, and Natalie seemed almost giddy.
Natalie picked up the last package, Paula’s gift. She removed the elegant bow and tore off the glossy paper. When she pulled off the lid, she gasped. After exchanging smiles with Paula, she pulled out the plush, white robe.
“Oh, Paula, I love it!” Natalie fingered the Turkish cotton that Paula knew was soft as a hug.
“You can wear that negligee underneath it,” said one of Natalie’s friends.
“Or nothing at all,” said another.
Everyone laughed as they passed the robe around, admiring it.
Paula’s mother stuffed the last of the wrapping paper in the trash bag while Hanna shooed everyone into the kitchen for strawberry cheesecake, Natalie’s favorite.
Paula helped her mother tidy up the living room. They’d had a few minutes before the shower to catch up, and Paula had told her about the Morgans’ story.
“It’s so good to have you home, Paula,” her mom was saying now. “It just doesn’t seem right when you’re gone. Like a piece of our family puzzle is missing.”
“You know I’ve always wanted to live in a big city, Mom.” Paula set the pillows in their respective places.
“I just always assumed you’d be taking your husband with you.” The tone was gentle, but it poked nonetheless.
“It’s David’s choice to stay here, Mom. You know that. Besides, if I don’t get the anchor job, I’ll be coming back home anyway.”
Her mom straightened from stuffing a box in the trash bag and pelted Paula with a look only a mom could master. “And what will you be coming home to, dear?”
Irritation wiggled its way under Paula’s skin. Why did everyone lay the fault of her decaying marriage at her feet? Even her own family took David’s side at every turn. For a moment she wanted to tell her mom exactly what happened between her and David. How her husband accused her of having an affair. How he refused to believe she was innocent.
Just as quickly, she dismissed the idea. It was between her and David. She was never one to tell Mommy everything, and she wasn’t going to start now. Not to defend herself against something that wasn’t true.
“I’m sorry if I’m prying,” her mom said. “I don’t mean to. I just want to say that problems don’t get better with time or distance. Things have a way of getting worse and worse until neither of you cares anymore. I don’t want to see that happen with you and David.”
Paula sighed. She couldn’t argue with anything her mom had said. “I don’t either, Mom.”
Her mother ran her fingers through Paula’s hair. “Then work it out. Do whatever it takes. Confront him, talk it out, agree to disagree, something. Just work it out.”
An ache welled inside Paula. She did want things to work out with David. She remembered the way they used to be. They’d had a great relationship in the beginning. She wanted it to be that way again, but the thought of approaching David, of making herself vulnerable to him again, was scary.
Her mom seemed to sense her feelings. “The Paula I know can do anything she sets her mind to. Apply a little of that ambition and drive to the success of your marriage, dear. It’s the most important partnership you’ll ever have.”
* * *
Paula spent the afternoon with her sisters and mom, slipping in a last-minute final fitting for her bridesmaid dre
ss. David was busy with a couple from out of town who was in the market for a ranch. She did take a minute to slip away and call the Rendezvous Bistro for reservations. Her mother was right. This argument between her and David was silly. They needed to stop running away from confrontation and find a way to work through it. She did want that anchor chair in Chicago, but she wanted the man she’d married back too.
Later that night, as she and David took seats in the crowded bistro, Paula second-guessed herself. While David agreed to go out with her, he was obviously reluctant to be there. He was colder than a mountain spring, and she wondered if she’d be able to get through to him at all.
The instant he sat down, he picked up the menu, holding it between them like a shield. The restaurant tried for elegance with dimmed lighting and starched white linens, but Paula couldn’t help but compare it to the restaurants she ate at in Chicago with her coworkers.
Nonetheless, this place held a few memories at least. David had brought her here when she got the job at WKEV. He ordered the most expensive glass of wine in the house and lifted a glass to her.
“To my amazing wife, who can achieve anything she sets her mind to. And to her husband, who is the luckiest man in the world,” he had said.
The tenderness in his eyes had made her own sting as she clinked glasses with him and sipped the fruity blend. They made passionate love that night, and Paula was on top of the world in every way.
How was it that they were now sitting across from each other in the same restaurant, in better career positions, with a mountain of heartache between them? When had it started? What started that downward spiral?
“What?” David’s menu had come down.
Paula realized she was staring at him. She spread the white napkin across her lap. “I was thinking about the last time we were here.”
Did he remember? Did he remember how it used to be?
The aproned waiter came and took their drink orders, then left. The muted chatter from other tables drifted over to theirs. A familiar woman across the room caught Paula’s eye and waved. Paula smiled and waved back before looking away. In Jackson Hole, even in tourist season, you couldn’t go anywhere without running into someone you knew.