“Hey, Kaitlin,” he says.
“This video is terrific. Blockbuster,” Kevin says. Pulling the final cassette from his viewer, he hands it back to Franklin. “We’ll get a whole ‘Charlie Investigates’ campaign in the works. You got the rental-car king to repair his fleet of cars. And now he’s telling his pals to do the same. Public service. Excellent. And then the valet-parking scam? VIN cloning? Air-bag theft? Even more excellent. It hits our demos exactly, women and families. We’ll assign you the first days of the ratings book. Promo will tease it big on Wednesday, then we’ll run your stories Thursday and Friday. We’ll kill.”
“That’s great,” I say. “But remember, we have to prove our Explorer is cloned. And somehow figure out where that cloned Explorer actually is.”
“And we’re still working on who owns Beacon Valet,” Franklin puts in.
“And then we have to decide how to handle that,” I say.
“Well, let me know what you figure out.” Kevin comes out from behind his desk, signaling “meeting over.”
“Too bad we can’t call your stories Drive Time,” he says. “That’s the radio show, right? Well, I’ll take care of the title. You take care of the story.”
I hear the unmistakable sound of the old NBC network bells. J.T. jumps to his feet, unclicking the cell phone from his belt, and he heads out the door. “Sorry,” he says over his shoulder. The door latches closed behind him.
The rest of us exchange inquiring looks, then shrug. Franklin and I both stand. We’re done here. And we have a lot to accomplish in a very short time.
“Anyway, you guys never cease to amaze me,” Kevin continues, shepherding us out. “And might as well exit on a high note, isn’t that right, Franklin?”
I stop.
Exit? I take my hand off the doorknob and turn back to face them. Kevin is smiling. Franklin is not. In fact, Franklin’s face is changing so quickly I can’t even read the expressions as they go by.
Then I realize. Of course. It wasn’t a complete secret. Kevin’s told Franklin about his move to New York. How could I have thought he wouldn’t?
“Well, of course,” I say, nodding conspiratorially. I reach for the door again. “Glad we could make it happen. And we’ll miss you. Right, Franko?”
“Charlotte,” Franklin says.
“Charlie,” Kevin says at the same time.
I don’t move from the doorway. Franklin takes a step backward, deeper into Kevin’s office, still clutching his pile of tapes and transcribed logs.
“I assumed you two told each other everything,” Kevin says. His demeanor is uncharacteristically merry, like a salesman endeavoring to motivate a reluctant customer. “I told you to keep it confidential, Charlie, but you two have no secrets, right? Don’t make a move without telling the other? The two musketeers?”
Franklin is silent.
I don’t say a word.
“Well. Let me give you some privacy, then,” Kevin says. He reaches behind me, opens the door. Then he turns. And actually winks. “The offer still stands for you, too, you know. There’s still time to join us in the Big Apple. Love to have you.”
And he disappears into the newsroom.
Franklin and I are alone. Together. Though it appears we won’t be together for long. On the wall, five muted television screens flicker news and early-afternoon soap operas. I think the biggest soap opera may be happening right now. In real life. I only wish I’d been let in on the story. I’m not sure of my lines. And I don’t know how this episode ends.
Franklin shifts the tapes piled in his arms, suddenly concerned with making sure they’re all stacked just right. He pushes up his glasses with one finger, flustered. A few typed pages of transcripts escape, fluttering onto Kevin’s desk.
“Need help with those?” I say. My words come out brittle. My back is stiffening and my insides are hollow. I’m-angry. And I’m enjoying it. “Or with anything else? Or, let’s see now, would you like to handle it all on your own?”
“Let’s just talk, all right, Charlotte?” Franklin sets the tapes and logs back onto Kevin’s desk, and turns to me. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, imploring. He slides his flat palms down the sides of his khakis, then stuffs his fists into his pockets.
“Talk?” I say. I still don’t sound like me. “You must have already done a lot of talking.”
Franklin drops his head, staring at the floor, then takes a deep breath.
“Charlotte, I wanted to discuss this with you. But you were never around.”
“Oh, I get it,” I reply. “It’s my fault.”
“Listen. Let me tell you the whole thing and then you can be angry. Whatever. You know Kevin is going to New York. He asked me to come with him, produce for the investigative team. He said he asked you, too. He told me not to tell you I knew about it.”
“But, I-” I interrupt. I need to explain that I was going to turn the offer down.
“Let me finish.” Franklin holds up a hand. “You’ve been distant. And distracted. You know you have. Wedding-planner meetings at fancy hotels. Taking Penny to school. The ‘dentist’? Please. ‘Forgetting’ our plans? I must tell you, Charlotte, I was convinced you were out of here. You have to admit, it makes sense.”
“But, I-”
He looks at me earnestly. “You’re getting married. You’ll have Josh, and Penny, and a whole new deal. I thought you were, you know, easing your way into that. And away from TV.”
“But, I-” Now I need to explain I’m still learning to be two places at once, but I’ll definitely be able to pull it off.
Franklin shakes his head, stopping me again.
“I’m almost finished. When Kevin offered me New York, the network, the job I’d always dreamed of, I had to consider it. As it happens, Stephen’s office was thrilled to have him relocate there. I’ve been talking with the New York Bureau staff for two weeks now. I thought for sure you’d get suspicious of all my texting. And when I didn’t show up for the first stakeout. I wasn’t there because I had a meeting.”
He gives a soft smile, remembering. “And when I kept clicking my computer monitor closed so you couldn’t read our e-mails. The guy at the Longmore with me on stakeout night? He was from New York. The new exec producer. You didn’t care.”
“But, I-” I had noticed, I just hadn’t pursued it. I was too busy with my own deceptions. Now I need to explain some other things. That a moment ago, I wasn’t really angry, but terrified. And that now, my fear is dissolving into pure sorrow. That I understand change is necessary. And inevitable. And that change is the only thing that keeps our heads and our hearts alive.
“When you didn’t say anything…” Franklin pauses. “It was proof for me that you had completely tuned out. You were leaving, too. You’d be Charlie the married lady. You wouldn’t miss me. Or us. You’d be happy, Charlotte. As you deserve to be.”
Now I’m unabashedly crying, tears streaming down my cheeks. I give a watery sniff and pat my pockets for a tissue. No pockets.
“It was hard to keep a secret from you,” he says. “Like I said, Kevin told me he’d offered you a New York gig. He was sure you’d jump at it. But I know you. And I know you’ll turn him down. Your life is changing, girlfriend.”
He pauses. “And mine is, too.”
We stare at each other in the flickering silence. Outside in the newsroom, the lunch bunch is returning. The newsroom is bustling back to life, exactly the way it was before lunch.
But for me, and for Franklin, things will never be the same.
“Congratulations, Franko,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go out in style.”
I throw one arm across Franklin’s shoulders, giving him a brief, newsroom-appropriate hug.
“Get those tapes, Mr. New York producer. You’ve still got to knock ’em dead in Boston one last time. Let’s do some good. Stop some bad guys. And we’ll hope for one more Emmy while we’re at it. You’re the best, Franko.”