Close to You (20 page)

The thought was a real hit. Janie beamed. She knew it was going to be all right with Mommy. Mommy didn't sew. Mommy was always at work.

Decades of experience in the security field had left Joe Connelly little surprised by anything. But the tapes recorded outside of Eliza's office last night did not show what he had expected.

A light-haired woman dressed in dark slacks and a turtleneck had hung a bag on the door at eight
P.M.
Joe didn't recognize the woman, but the best thing to do would be to call Eliza down to see if she did.

Eliza stared intently at the grainy image Joe had isolated on the monitor in the security office.

“It looks like Abigail Snow. She does promos for the broadcast.”

“Has she ever come on to you in anyway?”

“Never.”

Joe flipped off the screen.

“I'll call her in and talk to her.”

A pained expression crossed Eliza's face. “God, Joe. I don't want to embarrass her. I don't know Abigail well at all, but she seems to be a very nice woman. I can't believe that she is any kind of threat.”

“Well, how do you want to handle it? I wouldn't ignore it, Eliza. She should know in no uncertain terms that you
aren't interested. You don't want anybody fantasizing that there's something developing between you when there isn't.”

Eliza considered his words and made up her mind decisively.

“I'll talk to her myself, Joe.”

“You're sure? I'd be glad to do it for you.”

“No,” she said resolutely. “I should do it myself.”

 

Eliza left ten minutes earlier than usual to go down to makeup, stopping at the promotions office. Abigail was inside conferring with a co-worker.

“Abigail, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Sure, Eliza. Come on in,” Abigail answered enthusiastically, gesturing to a chair.

The co-worker took the cue and excused himself.

“Did you want to see the
FRESHER LOOK
promo I did for the story on commuter relationships?” Abigail offered.

“Gee, I can't right now. I have to get to makeup. I'm sure it's wonderful, though. Your promos always are.” Eliza crossed her long legs and leaned forward in her chair.

Abigail's heart raced.

“Well, what is it you wanted to talk about?”

“Actually, Abigail, someone left a gift for me at my office last night and I think it might have been you.”

Abigail's face flushed.

“Was it?”

“Yes.”

Eliza wanted to flee the room as soon as she saw the hopeful expression on Abigail's face. An expression that would surely turn to mortification when she heard what Eliza was about to tell her. It was a delicate situation. Eliza didn't relish the idea of hurting Abigail, but she had to nip this thing in the bud.

“I'm not interested, Abigail. I'm sorry.”

The woman didn't respond the way Eliza had expected she would.

“How do you know you aren't interested?” Abigail asked, almost too calmly.

“What?”

“Have you ever thought about it before?”

“That's really none of your business, Abigail. But the answer is no.”

“You might find that you like it.”

“I don't think so.”

“You never know until you try.”

“Look,” said Eliza firmly. “I didn't come down here to get into a discussion about sexuality. I just wanted to let you know that I'd appreciate it if something like this didn't happen again.”

She rose to leave.

“Eliza, just think about it, please. Many women marry and have children before they realize their true feelings. At the very least, consider what it is about it that makes you so uncomfortable.”

“I'm not uncomfortable, Abigail. I like to think of myself as an open-minded person, but I know myself, and I know that I'm not sexually attracted to women.”

 

Eliza sank into the chair, let out a long groan and told Doris about the exchange with Abigail.

“I knew she had the hots for you, baby,” said Doris as she swirled her brush around in a pot of blush.

“You did? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Like you haven't had enough to worry about?” Doris stood back and stuck out her leggings-clad hip. She held up her fingers and pulled them back one by one. “Let's see. You're getting threatening phone calls. You're getting threatening letters. Your boyfriend cheated on you. And let's not forget your house was just robbed.”

Eliza laughed in
spite
of herself. “Oh, yeah, and I have another happy thing I forgot to mention. Keith Chapel came on to me in Dallas last weekend.”

Doris's bronze-painted mouth dropped. “You're kidding! Keith always seemed kind of Caspar Milquetoasty to
me. I wouldn't have thought he had it in him to try to get it on with anyone, much less the anchorwoman. That was pretty gutsy.”

Eliza shrugged as Doris removed the makeup smock. “Gutsy, stupid or desperate. Which one?” Eliza stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “On that happy note, I'm off to deliver the evening news to eight million people who would never suspect the chaos that is my life.”

So close and yet so far.

She was as close as the television screen.

She was as close as her picture in a magazine or newspaper.

She filled the thoughts that ran through the brain during the day and appeared vividly, hotly, in dreams at night.

She was always there, yet never there.

Envy. That's what pulsed through the veins, watching Eliza sit next to the woman she interviewed on the airplane. Oh, to be that close to Eliza Blake, feeling the warmth of her arm in that cramped seating space. To be flying with her to some exotic spot where they could be together.

Please, Eliza
If I could only get that close to you.

Eliza rushed from the studio as soon as the Thursday-evening broadcast was over. Back-to-School Night started at seven-thirty and she was having the driver go directly to HoHoKus Public School. Even if there was absolutely no traffic on the West Side Highway she was going to be late.

But, like most evenings, there was traffic. Lots of it. By the time Eliza hurried into Mrs. Prescott's kindergarten classroom, the teacher had finished her presentation. The parents were already up from the cramped positions they had taken in the pint-sized seats at the tiny desks and were milling around the room, searching for their respective children's crayoned artwork tacked to the walls.

“Mrs. Prescott, I'm Eliza Blake, Janie's mother.”

“Of course, Ms. Blake,” the diminutive, middle-aged teacher extended her hand. Mrs. Prescott wasn't that much taller than her students. “It's so good to meet you. My husband and I watch you every night.”

“Thank you,” said Eliza, a bit uncomfortably. She didn't want the focus to be on herself. She was here to talk about her daughter. “How is Janie doing?”

“Very well, very well,” said Mrs. Prescott. “She seems
to be adjusting nicely. I understand you just moved in a few days before she started school?”

“That's right. It was all very rushed.”

“And you have a new housekeeper?”

“Yes, Mrs. Garcia,” Eliza confirmed. “So far, so good. Janie and she are getting along famously.”

Mrs. Prescott nodded. “Yes, she seems very nice when she picks up Janie every day. Janie seems happy to go with her.”

“That's good to hear.”

“Janie tells me that you had a robbery?”

Eliza was starting to feel uncomfortable, and guilty, as the teacher listed the litany of changes and traumas Janie had been through of late. “Yes, unfortunately, we did,” she answered.

“Janie told me she was sad because some pictures were stolen.”

Janie hadn't said a word to her about it.
Oh, God.

“Yes, family pictures that were in frames.”

“Some of her father?”

What was this? The inquisition?

Eliza nodded.

Mrs. Prescott bit the corner of her lip and Eliza sensed a growing reticence.

“You look like you have something on your mind, Mrs. Prescott. Please, tell me what it is.”

“I read in the newspaper about what happened over the summer. Janie has been through quite a lot for such a little girl. I just want you to know I'm sensitive to that.”

Eliza could feel other eyes watching her in the crowded classroom. It was at times like this that she yearned for anonymity. She was relieved when another parent approached to speak with the teacher.

The classroom bulletin boards had headings. The first was, “What I Did Over the Summer.” Eliza was relieved to see Janie's depictions of the Newport seashore rather than a stick figure of Mrs. Twomey holding a gun.

The “Harvest” bulletin-board artwork was pretty universal.
All the kids had drawn big orange pumpkins.

“My Family” was another heading. Eliza's heart sank as she looked at the five-year-olds' rudimentary drawings that clearly showed two big parents with assorted numbers of children. Basic all-American families. When she got to Janie's picture, she saw that her daughter had drawn a big mommy, and a little girl, with a tiny yellow blob next to her which Eliza supposed represented Daisy. There had still been lots of space remaining on the construction paper. In the corner, Janie had drawn her tiny version of KayKay and a white-haired Poppie holding hands. It was a lopsided arrangement. But that was family as Janie knew it.

For the first time, Eliza was glad that Larson had dropped off that dog.

She felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to see Susan Feeney smiling at her. Eliza made an effort to wipe the concern from her face.

“Hiya, Susan. How are you?”

“I'm fine. But what's wrong with you? You look so down.”

Eliza gestured to the bulletin board.

“What?” asked Susan.

“Look at all those pictures and then look at Janie's.”

Susan stared at the drawings. “Oh, you mean the mommy-daddy thing?” She patted Eliza on the arm. “Don't worry, in a couple of years half those parents will be divorced.”

Eliza tried not to laugh. “That's not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Forget about it, Eliza. Everything
looks
like Ozzie-and-Harrietland out here. But knock on just about any door: every family has its problems. You love Janie and she knows it. She is a very secure little girl. She'll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Eliza said, liking Susan more and more.

Susan held out a pad of paper. “Come on, sign up for something. Get involved. You'll feel better.”

Eliza scanned the sheet. Class Mother. Forget it, there was no way she could take that on. Bake Sale. Well, she
could have Mrs. Garcia bake something but that didn't warrant any real involvement on her part. Brownie Leader. Nope—had to be home after school for that. Book Sale. Again, it was during the week. Halloween Parade.

“What do you have to do for Halloween Parade?” Eliza asked.

“Get donuts and cider and be here at school the Saturday morning before Halloween when the kids finish their march from town in their costumes.”

Eliza scribbled her signature on the line. “I can handle that.” She handed the pad back to her neighbor. “And, Susan, thanks again for making Janie's costume. I really appreciate it.”

The guilt never ended.

Why had she ever agreed to do this interview with the
Record?

Eliza didn't want any more publicity. But KEY News liked it. With the amount of money the company was paying her, Eliza felt obligated to hold up her end. The
Record
had a large circulation in northern New Jersey. Louise Kendall would certainly see the article and that meant Range would, too.

With notebook and pen in hand, the newspaper reporter sat in Eliza's office Friday morning.

“Why did you choose to move out to Bergen County?”

“I thought it would be a good atmosphere in which to raise my daughter. We loved living in the city, but I wanted Janie to have a backyard with a swing set and the whole works. I also wanted her to go to public school and Bergen County has a strong system.”

“Your situation with your housekeeper got a lot of coverage. I suppose that had something to do with your decision?” the reporter prompted.

“It did. But I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't stress that in your article. We are trying to put that behind us.”

The reporter nodded noncommittally.

“How are you liking HoHoKus?”

“It's a beautiful town. Very charming. And it's a fairly easy commute to New York.”

“Have you met many people yet?”

“We've only been out here a few weeks, but the people that I have met have been very welcoming and friendly.”

“Are you getting involved in any local activities?”

Eliza smiled. “Funny you should ask that, I just signed up last night to work at the HoHoKus Public School for the Halloween Parade. And I intend to continue my involvement with Fragile X syndrome fundraising efforts with my friend Louise Kendall, who, by the way, was also my Realtor. Last June I was privileged to be asked to speak at the Fragile X fundraising ball at the Park Ridge Marriott. Next year Louise is organizing it at Tavern on the Green. I'll be attending and helping in any way I can.”

“Now, where exactly do you live in HoHoKus?” asked the reporter.

Eliza was uncomfortable. “You know, the last thing I want to do is make your job more difficult and I certainly wouldn't want to edit you in any way, but I'd rather you didn't put that in the article either. You know, for security reasons.”

Too many nuts out there.

Janie was excited about having supper and a sleepover at James's house Saturday night and Eliza was thrilled that she didn't have to feel guilty about going out to dinner.