Metsy Hingle - Deadline

“I considered it,” Ronnie advised her. “But if I had, we wouldn’t have been able to finish our little chat. Now, are you going to tell me why you’ve got circles under your eyes that look like they belong to a raccoon? Or am I going to have to torture you to get the truth?”

She’d probably do it, too, Tess thought. Despite her small stature, the feisty redhead in the chic navy suit had the heart and soul of an army drill sergeant. One of the first things she’d learned about the producer was that the woman didn’t know the meaning of the word no. Still, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to share with Ronnie, or anyone, the reason behind her sleepless nights. Instead, she said, “If I’m looking tired, it’s probably because you’ve been working me too hard.”

Ronnie waved aside her comment. “You’re an investigative reporter. You’re supposed to work hard. It’s in your contract.”

“Funny, I don’t recall seeing that particular clause.”

“Oh it’s there all right, buried in the fine print.”

Tess lifted her eyebrow skeptically as she added more sugar to her tea.

“Trust me, the boys in black make sure it’s standard in everyone’s contract,” Ronnie explained, referring to the top brass at Channel Seven News.

She could almost believe it, Tess thought. She had covered as many stories during the past few months as she had for the entire previous year. The primary reason was that they’d been short staffed after losing a veteran reporter to a news station on the West Coast, and another reporter had been placed on doctor-ordered bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. As a result, Tess had been forced to pull double and sometimes triple duty working as the station’s investigative reporter, society reporter and occasionally filling in as news anchor.

“Just be glad you’re not a producer. Producers have to sign the thing in blood,” Ronnie claimed before taking another bite of her salad.

“In that case, I’ll stick to reporting.”

“Smart girl. It’s probably what I should have done. If I had, I wouldn’t be sitting here trying to find out why my top reporter looks like hell and has been moping all week.”

Ignoring the accusation, Tess said, “You love working in that pressure cooker and you know it.”

Ronnie curved her lips into a smile. “True. But if I’d known it was going to take over my life so completely, I would’ve at least held out for more money. A word to the wise, kiddo. If Stefanovich ever shows up at your desk singing your praises and dangling a fancy title at you, run. Otherwise, he’ll reel you in like a fish. And before you know it, you’ll be working eighteen-hour days and making the same money you did as a reporter.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that.” The truth was, she hadn’t really minded the extra workload during the past few months. Work had kept her too busy to think much about Jody Burns’s death or the ending of her year-long romance with Jonathan Parker. But now with David in the news-anchor spot and Angela due back Monday from her maternity leave, her days weren’t nearly so busy, Tess admitted. Neither were her evenings now that Jonathan was out of the picture. As a result she no longer dashed out of the station to attend some event, or dragged herself home late at night to crawl into bed and collapse. No, now she lay awake at night and thought. And the one thing she couldn’t stop thinking about was that phone call she’d received and the woman’s claim that Jody Burns’s death had been murder. Mostly, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the woman’s claim that someone other than Jody Burns had killed her mother.

“Earth to Tess.”

Tess yanked her attention back to Ronnie. “Sorry. Did you say something?”

“You’re really starting to worry me, kiddo. That’s the second time you’ve zoned out on me since we got here.”

Tess set her soupspoon aside and sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“That’s obvious,” Ronnie reminded her. “This trouble sleeping wouldn’t have anything to do with Johnny, would it?”

“No,” Tess replied, not bothering to remind Ronnie, again, how much Jonathan detested being called Johnny. She’d long suspected that Ronnie only called him that because she disliked the man and wanted to irritate him. “As I told you at the time, we ended our relationship amicably. He and I are still friends.”

“Uh-huh.” Ronnie reached for her glass of tea and took a sip. “So he didn’t come by the station yesterday to try to get you to change your mind about marrying him?”

“No. He didn’t. If you must know, he came by to pick up the key he’d given me to his apartment.”

“Any second thoughts about turning down his proposal?”

“None,” Tess assured her. “You were right. Jonathan and I were all wrong for each other. I just can’t believe it took me so long to see it.”

She patted Tess’s hand. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. We all make mistakes—especially when it comes to men.”

“Easy for you to say. I dated the man for nearly a year and not until I was faced with the prospect of marrying him did I realize that he and I would never work. You, on the other hand, knew it almost from the start.”

Ronnie smiled—the smile of a woman who had lived nearly fifty years and was wiser for it. “That’s because I wasn’t emotionally invested in the relationship. You were. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that when it comes to the male species, women don’t always see things clearly—especially if our emotions are involved.”

But she should have seen it, Tess thought. Yet, despite the fact that she enjoyed Jonathan’s company and being with him was easy, there had been no real passion between them. It wasn’t until he’d surprised her with an engagement ring for her birthday that she’d been forced to face the truth. She didn’t love him. At least not in the way you should love someone you married. “That still doesn’t make it right. It was unfair of me to lead him on the way I did.”

“Come on, Tess. Johnny’s a big boy. I don’t recall you holding a gun to the man’s head and forcing him to go out with you.”

“I know. But it was still embarrassing for him. He’d told his family and friends, even my grandparents, that he was giving me the ring. They were all expecting an engagement announcement, not a breakup.”

“So he was embarrassed,” Ronnie conceded. “From what I saw of him yesterday, he didn’t appear to be suffering from a broken heart.”

It was true, Tess admitted. Her refusal had appeared to bruise Jonathan’s ego far more than his heart.

“He’ll get over it,” Ronnie assured her.

Tess had no doubt that he would. Jonathan knew what he wanted—a dutiful wife whose dreams and desires mirrored his own—which was to see himself in the White House someday. But that woman wasn’t her. It could never be her because she had her own dreams, her own desires, and she had no intention of abandoning them. Nor did she want to be with a man who would expect her to do so. “Still, I can’t help wishing I hadn’t let things reach that point.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe the reason you let things reach that point was because you knew it’s what the senator wanted?”

“It wasn’t my grandfather’s mistake. It was mine.” Although the senator had introduced her to Jonathan and hadn’t hidden the fact that he’d welcome the up-and-coming attorney as a grandson-in-law, he hadn’t forced her to go out with the man. “As you pointed out, no one held a gun to his head and forced him to go out with me.”

“So I take it the senator isn’t giving you grief for breaking up with golden boy?”