" 'They were very happy throughout the winter, then one day in early spring the sun came out, strong and hot, as the snow princess was walking with her husband…'"
Rune paused and read ahead in the story – to the part where the sun gets hotter and hotter and the princess melts, the water running through her husband's fingers into the ground until there's nothing left of her. She looked up at the girl's expectant face and thought: We've got a problem here.
"Go on," Courtney said.
Pretending to read, Rune said, "Well, the sun was so hot that the snow princess remembered how much she missed her parents and she kissed her husband good-bye and climbed back up to the mountain village, where she moved back in with her parents, and got a job and met a neat guy, who was also made out of snow, and they lived happily ever after."
"I like that story," Courtney said in her tone of an official pronouncement.
Claire came out on deck. "Time for bed."
Courtney didn't complain much. Rune kissed her good night then helped Claire put her pajamas on her and get her into bed.
"You know, if you're interested," Claire said, "it's much easier to meet men in Boston."
"You want me to go to Boston with you? Just to meet men?
"Sure, why not?"
"Because most men are damaged, to start with. Why should I go somewhere where it'seasier to meet men? I'd think you'd want to go where it's harder."
"What's wrong with men?"
"Haven't you noticed something?" Rune asked. "How many men do you know whose IQ matches their age?"
"You gonna marry Sam?"
"He's a great guy," Rune said defensively, uneasy with the M word. "We have a good time…"
Claire sighed. "He's twenty years older than you, he's going bald, he's married."
"He's separated," Rune said. "Anyway, what twenty-five-year-olds with hair have you met that're such good catches?" Admitting to herself, though, that the married part was definitely an ongoing problem.
"You move to Boston, you'll be married in six months. I guarantee it." Claire pirouetted. "How do I look?"
Like a hooker, circa 1955.
Rune said, "Stunning."
Claire grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "I owe you one."
"I know you do," Rune said and watched her clatter unsteadily down the gangplank on high-heeled saddle shoes.
6
The note on her desk the next morning, from Maisel, was to the point.
Sutton 's office. The minute you come in!
– Lee.
Rune had received a lot of notes like this and they were usually the preface to flunking a course, getting fired or getting yelled at.
Heart pounding, she left her Morning Thunder tea on her desk and walked out of the studio. In ten minutes she was standing in front of Piper Sutton's secretary. Yesterday's look of terror at Rune's unauthorized entry had been replaced by a subtle gloat.
Rune said, "I'm supposed to see-"
"They're waiting for you."
"Is it okay to-?"
"They're waiting for you," the woman repeated cheerfully.
Inside, Sutton and Maisel turned their heads and stared as she approached. Rune stopped halfway into the big office.
"Close the door," Sutton ordered.
Rune obeyed then walked into the room. She smiled at Maisel, who avoided her eyes.
Oh, boy, she thought. Oh, boy.
Sutton's eyes were flint. She said, "Sit down," just as Rune was dropping into the chair across from the desk. Rune felt a shiver down her back and the hairs on her neck stirred. Sutton tossed a copy of one of the city's tabloids on her desk. Rune picked it up and read a story circled in thick, red ink that bled into the fibers of the newsprint.
NETWORK WANTS TO FREE KILLER OF ITS EXEC
By Bill Stevens
The story was short, just a few paragraphs. It recounted how a reporter fromCurrent Events was investigating Randy Boggs's conviction for Lance Hopper's murder. Boggs's defense lawyer, Fred Megler, had no comment other than to say that his client has always maintained his innocence.
"Oh, shit," she muttered.
"How?" Sutton tapped her glossy fingernails on the desktop. They were as red and hard as the finish on a Porsche. "How'd it happen?"
"It's not my fault. He lied to me."
"Bill Stevens?"
"That wasn't the name he gave me. I was at the Department of Corrections and this guy came up and said he worked for the press department and could he help me and he was real nice and he even told me things off the record so I assumed it was okay to-"
"Assumed it was okay?" Sutton's voice rose. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "I don't believe it."
Maisel sighed. "This's the oldest trick in the book. Jesus, Rune, you fucked this one up. Stevens is a beat reporter for the paper. He covers the government agencies. When he sees a reporter who's new and doesn't recognize him he finds out what their assignment is then scoops them."
"You walked right into his arms." Sutton lit a cigarette and slapped the lighter down on the desktop. "A fucking babe in the woods."
"He seemed like a nice guy."
"What the hell does 'nice' have to do with anything?" Maisel asked, exasperated. "This is journalism."
All ruined. My one big chance and I blew it, right out of the gate.
Sutton asked Maisel, "Damage assessment?"
"None of the other nets are that interested." He touched the tabloid. "Even Stevens didn't follow up on Boggs. The focus of the story was thatwe're trying to get him out. So we look like idiots if it doesn't pan out." He toyed with an unlit pipe and stared at the ceiling. "The story's hit some syndicated news services but so far all we've had are a couple junior reporters call Publicity for statements. Nobody on Wallace's or Rather's level. Nobody fromMedia in Review. It's a pain in the ass but I don't think it's critical."
Sutton kept her eyes on Rune as she said, "I've already gotten a call from Semple."
Maisel closed his eyes. "Ouch. I thought he was in Paris."
"He is. TheHerald Tribune picked up the story in their third edition."
Dan Semple was the current head of Network News. He'd taken over when Lance Hopper was killed. He was, give or take a few miracles, God. One of the reasons that Hopper was so sorely missed was that he was an angel compared with Semple, who was known for his vicious temper and cut-throat business practices. He'd even punched a junior producer who'd carelessly lost an exclusive to CNN.
Maisel asked, "What was his reaction?"
"Not fit for human consumption," Sutton said. "He'll be back in a few days and he wants to talk about it." She sighed. "Corporate politics… just what we need now. And with the budgets coming up in a month…"Sutton looked at the newspaper, gestured at it then glanced at Rune. "But the big danger of this is what?" Maisel was nodding. But Rune didn't get it.
"Think," Sutton snapped.
"I don't know. I'm sorry."
Maisel supplied the answer. "That another magazine or feature program'll pick up the lead and bring out the story at the same time we do. It's a news policy -we don't spend time and money on a story if there's a chance we'll be preempted."
Rune rocked forward in the chair. "It won't happen again. I promise. I'll be so skeptical you won't believe it."
"Rune -," Sutton began.
"Look, what I'll do is ask people when I interview them if anybody from any other station has been asking them questions. If they have been I'll tell you. I promise. That way you can decide if you want to go ahead with the story or not."
Maisel said, "The only weapon journalists have is their minds. You've got to start using yours."
"I will. Just like the Scarecrow."
Sutton asked, "The what?"
"You know, The Wizard of Oz. He wanted a brain and-"
"Enough." Sutton waved her hand, managing to make her face both blank and hostile at the same time. Finally she said, "All right. Keep on it. But if anybody beats us to the punch – I'm talkinganybody: a rap station, MTV, Columbia 's student station – we drop the project. Lee?"
"Okay with me," Maisel said.