Helen Myers - It's News to Her

“Including our New York affiliate, I hope,” Cord said.

“Assuredly.”

After that Hunter pretty much lost track of Cord, which wasn’t exactly a disappointment. The man was determined to make himself her chief focus, and she couldn’t deal with him right now. But that didn’t mean his words back at the Yarrow Building didn’t keep preying on her mind.

“I’ve been thinking about you…and it’s time I did something about it.”

“Oh, stop!” she whispered to herself.

“Am I going too fast?” Principal Updike asked, holding up quickly as he led her to the press, who wanted as much time as she could give them.

Hunter glanced over her shoulder. Ms. Whitley had said something about Cord being introduced to the superintendent of schools, the mayor and the school’s department heads and had led him in the opposite direction, but she still felt Cord’s presence as strongly as when he’d stood beside her with his hand at the small of her back. “Sorry, no. I just remembered something I needed to tell Co—Mr. Rivers, but I’ll do that after the interviews. Lead on, Mr. Updike.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was finishing her chat with a second reporter when a pretty redhead her own age who had been lingering in the shadows came up, smiling shyly.

“Hunter?”

“Lisa—it’s you!” She reached for her old classmate and they hugged. “If you’d stepped into the light sooner, that gorgeous hair would have been a dead giveaway. How’ve you been?”

“Fine, but you’re the one. How glamorous you look and what an incredible career you’re building for yourself. I’m so proud. I found you on Facebook, and I’ve been following your blog on the station’s website for some time.”

“Then why didn’t you write?”

The shorter woman shrugged and tugged on her white, cotton blazer that was a half size too small. “I didn’t want to intrude. You’re so busy. Besides, I didn’t want to bring up sad memories. And—” Lisa glanced over her shoulder with increased nervousness “—I married and I was afraid to tell you to who.”

A tall man with wavy, brown hair and deep dimples stepped up beside her. “Hello, Hunter.”

“Mike—you and Lisa? How great is that!” She hugged him, as well. “When did this happen?”

“Six years and two girls ago,” they chimed in unison.

Hunter pressed a hand to her heart. “Pictures?” When Lisa quickly flipped open her cell phone and showed her one of the two of them in Easter finery, Hunter cooed. “Lovely, they got your hair and Mike’s dimples. There is justice in this world.”

Her former classmates looked delighted and relieved with her sincere pleasure for them. “Michelle is our firstborn and Vanessa is the younger one,” Lisa said.

“We made a huge mistake and should have reversed the names,” Mike said.

“Vanessa is a real tomboy,” Lisa said, taking over. “And we sometimes call her Nessa the Messa out of sheer despair, don’t we, honey? We should have named her Michelle and at least being called ‘Mitch’ wouldn’t be too bad, while Michelle is the epitome of what you expect a Vanessa to be—classy, mannered and the last person you’d find wrestling the neighbor’s son on the front lawn.”

It was all Hunter could do to keep up. When she’d last seen them, Mike dreamed of pitching for the New York Mets, and Lisa wanted to open her own decorating shop. Her sixth sense that she’d honed since working in the business told her not to ask how close they’d come to achieving their dreams.

“That sounds like real life to me,” she replied. “‘Make a plan and watch God laugh.’”

Lisa beamed at her husband. “Isn’t this like old times? Remember Hunter always validated a thought with a pertinent quote.”

“In other words, I was Queen Nerd,” Hunter said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“No, you made us feel better about a moment and ourselves. The world was stable if you were there to put things in perspective.” Growing wistful, Lisa touched her sleeve. “What about you? I was hoping you would meet someone as great as your dad and be married, too.”

Against her will, Cord’s face flashed before Hunter, and she vigorously shook her head. “No time.” She added a shrug and perfected her airy tone. “My boss keeps my schedule pretty full.”

“Is he the distinguished guy standing behind you looking like he just stole Manhattan from Donald Trump?”

Hunter didn’t bother turning to check. “That’s the one.” Wondering why he wasn’t still with the other group, she felt that increasingly familiar hand at her waist. She immediately said, “Cord Yarrow Rivers, these are my two dearest friends from school before we moved, Lisa and Mike O’Neal.”

“A pleasure—and it’s Cord,” he said, shaking hands with both of them. “I hate to intrude with anything that puts a smile on Hunter’s face after such a draining day, but Principal Updike says they need to seat her.”

“Oh, dear—do you think you’ll have time to meet afterward, Hunter? We’d hoped to take you both out for a drink or dinner?”

Hunter winced. “I wish, Lis, but we have to get back to Texas tonight. I have another on-air must tomorrow morning.” Hunter quickly dug out a card from her purse. “Here’s my card. Call or email me and let’s see if we can try to hook up again.”

“I’d love to. Just getting to hug you again means more than I can tell you.”

As the ceremonies began, Hunter lost Cord again. She finally spotted him staying close to their sister station’s reporter and camera crew. After that, she went into work mode.

She wasn’t nervous. She’d already experienced too many emergency live shots to easily unravel over something this planned, and when she finally stood amid friendly, but not riotous, applause, she understood the restraint completely. This was the kids’ day, and speeches were a necessary evil to them. Seventy-five percent of them didn’t know her from their state senators, unless they had taken a glimpse inside their programs. More wouldn’t remember a thing she said, especially if she was formal and somber. On the other hand, if she was too lighthearted, the town leaders and school staff would regret having touted her as the school’s current highest achiever. Hoping to strike a happy medium, she listened as Principal Updike introduced her, and then she rose and set her leather binder on the dais.

“Mayor Steel, Principal Updike, Superintendent Bradshaw, esteemed guests and graduating class—it’s been a whirlwind day, but trust me, being here with you is still the high point.”

The students erupted in cheers and whistles. A good start—she could almost hear them thinking—it’s about us.

“A few hours ago, I was in Texas trying to keep career politicians and strategists—some of the top movers and shakers in the state and country—from gobbling up precious air time with their spin, and now I’m here looking at your vibrant, intelligent faces eager to charge toward the rest of your lives. That’s the speed at which the world is spinning.

“But for a twist of fate, I would have once sat in one of those chairs—where are you H’s?” As a few kids whooped and waved, Hunter pointed and smiled. “There you are. You girls are doing way cuter things with your hair than we did ten years ago.”

After another few laughs and one brave male senior calling “Looking hot, Hunter!” she grinned back and suggested, “I promise any of you with a strong science background that the world is your oyster if you can just develop good hair products that can withstand twelveto sixteen-hour days under hot lights and Gulf heat and humidity.”

Then she grew slightly more somber, “Wherever you go, whatever you do, never stop believing in your dreams or challenging yourself. When I lost my father on the eve of the junior prom, I struggled to believe that things would ever be bearable again. Sometimes it was rough, even though I had a great relationship with my mother, and we were fortunate that my father had planned for such a catastrophe, so money wasn’t our top concern. But it is for many.