Helen Myers - It's News to Her

“I’m afraid not, my dear. On the other hand, while eighty isn’t much in this day and age, I’ve had a good run, so who am I to have regrets?” He settled back with a groan that he tried to muffle with a handkerchief he’d dug out of a pocket and pressed to his mouth. Recovering, he continued with, “Hunter, I wanted you to be among the first to know that I’m retiring. Cord will be taking over effective immediately. I wanted him present to assure you that your position with us is solid. You more than represent KSIO’s standard of quality, you are our star. Many of our hopes for the future of the corporation start with you.”

It took several seconds for Hunter to breathe normally, let alone accept what she’d just been told. And it got worse. Bad enough to see YCI taken over by total strangers, her future was also being placed in the hands of the man who had wooed her fiancé and co-anchor to Los Angeles at the cost of their relationship. Impossible! With that much cold-blooded maneuvering, she could never trust Cord Rivers to tell her the truth, let alone safeguard her career.

“I don’t know where to begin, sir,” she began, her tongue feeling foreign in her mouth. She was also painfully aware of Cord’s unblinking study; he was all but willing her to look his way, but she couldn’t if she wanted to. As desperation washed over her anew, she focused on the man who’d been an inspiration in her life. “Thank you for the compliment, but I understand what happens when there’s a big change in leadership—all bets are off. More important, I hope you know that I speak for many downstairs when I say that whether we are ordered to or not, we’re not ready to say goodbye to you.”

Henry’s gray but dignified face brightened and his blue-gray eyes—shades lighter than his grandson’s—grew overly bright. “Don’t let it get around, but that’s nicer to hear than a standing ovation at an industry banquet.”

“I’ll take your word for it. All I do know is that it’s true.” Known for her humorous quips to lighten tense or overly serious moments, Hunter leaned forward, all earnestness. “I also hope you know I personally appreciate all you’ve done for me. If I’m a fraction worthy of what you say, it’s only because of your generosity and guidance. Whatever happens, I’ll always remember that.”

As the old man frowned, his stormy eyebrows drew into an intimidating line that resembled a bitter, January cold front barreling down from Dallas and points north. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you have reservations about my decision.”

Reminding herself that her future lay in Cord’s hands if only to supply a letter of recommendation, Hunter dropped her gaze to the edge of Henry Yarrow’s massive mahogany desk. “I’m simply trying to say that your shoes will be difficult to fill.”

“Hunter is being more gracious than I deserve,” Cord said with impeccable timing. “I’m afraid that she still bears some hard feelings from when I moved Denny Brewster to the L.A. station, instead of her, two years ago.”

Both Henry and Hunter started with surprise. Henry recovered and spoke first.

“Do you, my dear? Why didn’t I ever sense that?”

“Because it’s news to me, too,” Hunter replied, sitting so straight her back was in danger of snapping. She slid Cord a look of disapproval for giving his grandfather the wrong information, not just the wrong impression. She would sew her mouth shut herself to avoid hurting the dear gentleman, but she couldn’t listen to this. “I didn’t have Denny’s experience. I had no right to want the job and, frankly, wouldn’t have taken it if it had been offered to me. What upset me was that Mr. Rivers was relocating my fiancé, which ultimately forced the end of our relationship, and apparently occurred with his complete blessing and—from my understanding—his encouragement.”

This time both Henry and Cord reacted as though the overhead sprinklers had suddenly turned on.

“You can’t be serious,” Cord said, sounding more incredulous than annoyed.

With cool reserve, Hunter arched her left eyebrow. “Did you or did you not tell him that his image as a bachelor was a major part of his appeal for the market he would be entering and that to remain ‘unattached,’ as you put it, would result in the fastest gain in ratings?”

“Because that’s how he presented himself to me,” Cord said, folding his arms in front of his chest. “In effect it was the ‘don’t fix what isn’t broken’ speech. There was no coercion or threat.”

“Denny said he was pressured.”

“Then he lied.” Shifting his hands to his hips, Cord turned away, shaking his head in clear frustration. Abruptly turning back, he said, “I didn’t see a ring on his hand—or yours.”

As his gaze settled on the hands she clasped tightly in her lap, Hunter lowered her eyes, too. They remained bare of jewelry, her nails clipped neat and short with only clear polish to enhance them. Her salon stylist complained about them whenever she came in for a haircut, but her argument was that the cameras were on her face, not her manicure.

“Denny’s file stated that he was single,” Cord added. “In all of my talks with staff, no one had a clue of any attachment. Not for either of you.”

Noting Henry’s unhappy countenance, Hunter chose not to participate in this lose-lose debate. If Cord was to be her boss, so be it. But first thing, once she got back from this trip, she would start polishing her resume to put out feelers for job openings at other networks, even north of Alaska or south of Australia—anywhere to get away from him.

“Hunter, a good portion of Denny’s work was to be interviews with some of the most beautiful actresses and entertainers in Hollywood, eventually the world,” Cord offered. “It was good marketing to sell him as available and use his personality and chemistry with the camera to appeal to women viewers.” Resting his palms on the surface of his grandfather’s desk, he leaned toward her, but he spoke almost gently. “After the contract was signed, Denny and I had little to say to each other. As far as I’m concerned, for all of his on-air charisma, he’s an opportunist with a smile. And for the record, he wasn’t in Los Angeles a full week before I saw him cozying up with his new co-anchor. I suspect that if a better offer comes from one of the magazine-formatted news shows, he’ll ditch our L.A. station without a twinge of remorse—along with whatever relationship he’s in at the time. You’re better off without him.”

Swallowing the bitterness building in her throat, Hunter replied quietly, “Perhaps…but we’ll never know, will we?”

As Cord opened his mouth to reply, Henry raised his hand, then directed a disapproving look at his grandson. “That was—well, you know what it was.”

Cord hung his head. “I apologize.”

But when he looked up again, directly at her, he still looked more determined than apologetic, which left Hunter humiliated anew for being all but forced to expose so much in front of his grandfather. In the end, maybe she had been played for a fool by Denny, but that didn’t excuse Cord Rivers. With those enigmatic stares and his Prince-Charming-with-an-edge good looks, he made Denny seem like an amateur.

“All I was trying to point out was that you both hid the fact that you were involved very well,” Cord said, breaking into her thoughts.

At least he didn’t try to lay on any guilt citing corporate policy, because there was none. Hunter had discreetly checked into that before agreeing to go out with Denny. “We didn’t think it would be professional to do otherwise,” Hunter said. Apparently, it was more difficult for her to contain herself than Denny, because after giving her the news about the California offer, he had agreed with Cord’s supposed logic and suggested they take a break on their commitment while he settled in at his new position. The engagement had been so new, they hadn’t even had time to get a ring, so there had been none to return.