“Then the two of you have a child!” Richard exploded as he stomped to his desk and landed his fist on its top, the force sending a pencil holder to the floor. “I don’t understand you,” he continued, teeth clamped as he kicked his chair and sent it toppling onto its back. “How can you—as a husband, as a man—accept this situation when you have the power to avert it?”
Again, Leyton’s pride felt the blow of Richard’s bruising words. His ego wouldn’t be able to tolerate another attack, nor did he like the way this conversation was diminishing him in the eyes of his father-in-law. It was time to present Richard with a grand misrepresentation of his daughter to convince him that no other choice existed.
“I’ve thought the options through,” he said. “Insisting on an abortion or sending Julianna on an extended vacation and arranging for an adoption.”
“What’s wrong with those options?” Richard demanded as he righted his chair and sat down.
“Julianna is what’s wrong with them.” Leyton sighed as he pulled a chair up to Richard’s desk and sat across from him. “Sir, with all due respect, your daughter is not well.”
“In what manner?” Looking weary from the night’s surprises, Richard leaned forward on his desk and rubbed his eyes.
“Mentally,” Leyton said, the lie flowing from him as naturally as a river pouring into the sea. “Ever since Julianna ran away with McAllister, I’ve suspected that she might be feeling unstable.”
Richard stopped massaging his eyes looked squarely at Leyton. “I’ll grant you that it was foolish judgment on the part of a young woman, but are you saying she needs to be committed?”
“Not at this point, but Julianna has been through a great deal. First, there was McAllister’s violent demise, followed by a marriage she has convinced herself she doesn’t want.” Leyton gave his head a sad shake. “She’s made it clear that this baby is the most important thing in the world to her. Should I not allow her to have it, I’m afraid it would be the straw to break the camel’s back. I’m afraid that, yes, I would be forced to make the awful decision to commit her.”
“You know my feelings about committing family members to asylums.” Richard was firm.
“And I share those thoughts,” Leyton said, knowing exactly which of Richard’s fears he could play upon. “When I think of how society would whisper and of the stigma that would attach itself to the family name . . . well, I feel myself go cold.” He took on a look of foreboding and gazed past Richard, as though he were envisioning an unpleasant future event. “And suppose Julianna told a fellow patient her story about McAllister and that patient told a relative, and so on and so on? Why, the whole ugly episode could find its way out of the small circle that now contains it.”
Richard plied Leyton with a long and thoughtful look while he appeared to consider all he had said. “I suppose this does shed some light as to why you came to your decision.”
“I appreciate you understanding my predicament,” Leyton said. “I wish there was a better answer, sir, but I’m convinced this is the only way to protect Julianna and the family name.”
Richard stood and walked to the window that looked onto the front grounds. Hands behind his back, he stared into the night while Leyton assumed that he was trying to bring some order to his thoughts.
“I’ll trust your instincts,” he finally said to Leyton. “But I’ll never accept this child.”
“Nor should you be expected to,” Leyton answered. “But on a brighter note, sir, now that we know Julianna can have children, she and I will start a family. We’ll give you a grandson you can be proud of, one who will make up for the black sheep Julianna now carries.”
Richard managed a half smile. “That gives me something to look forward to.”
Leyton stood. “Another drink, sir?”
“Yes, a little extra is needed on a night like tonight.”
Leyton went to the liquor cabinet and boldly selected one of Richard’s most expensive bourbons. “If it’s all right by you, sir, I think we both deserve the best of your poisons.”
Richard nodded and watched as Leyton began to make their drinks. He shook his head in apparent wonder, then said, “I have to say, my boy, that you’re a bigger man than I am.”
Leyton’s pride swelled, but he did not let it show in his voice. Instead, he gave a surprised laugh. “What do you mean, sir?” he asked as he crossed the room and handed Richard his drink.
“I just hope that Julianna knows how fortunate she is.”
Saying nothing as he joined Richard before the window, Leyton hoped to project a humble silence. Inside, of course, he was about to burst, amazed sometimes by his own brilliance. Truthfully, he asked himself, how many men could have pulled off such a challenge?
Granted, he had sold Julianna out as a loon, but that was certainly preferable to making himself look like a pathetic, henpecked sap.
Ah, this was better, so much better. He had stuck to the rules, so the trust fund was secure. Yet, he had spared his pride and saved face, and as an added bonus he had even mustered more admiration from Richard.
He sipped his drink and glimpsed his reflection in the window, then offered himself a congratulatory wink.
Virginia’s slender fingers were on the dial of the Philco radio in Julianna’s parlor. It was a large tombstone model, and Virginia whipped through the dial until she came to station WYRC.
“Listen to him!” she cried as a man’s voice came through the speaker. “Isn’t his voice hypnotizing?”
Cassie chuckled from the sofa. On her day off, she had driven over to visit Julianna, bringing homemade almond teacakes. “Who is he?”
“Nap Schuler.”
Cassie threw a questioning look to Julianna who was seated at the other end of the sofa.
“I don’t recollect ever knowin’ anyone named Nap.”
“It’s short for Napoleon,” Virginia said.
Cassie threw back her head and laughed. “Mercy, girl. Captain Cloud, Napoleon . . . where do you find your men?”
“You’ll be pleased, Cassie. I found this one at church.”
Now Julianna laughed. “Nap stopped to help Virginia after her car sputtered out and she coasted into the parking lot of First Presbyterian.”
“Still, it was at a church.” Virginia grinned. “He asked me to dinner for Valentine’s Eve and we’ve been going out ever since. That’s over a week and I’ve yet to start snoring.”
“He’s got himself a nice baritone,” Cassie said. “He ought to preach—you know, radio’s a fine instrument for spreadin’ the gospel.”
“You want to know the best thing about Nap?” Virginia asked. “He says that I have a radio voice. He says it’s smoky velvet. Probably due to all the Luckies.”
“Ask him to give you a job,” Cassie suggested. “Wouldn’t kill you to work.”
“As it turns out . . .” Virginia smiled broadly as she flounced in between Cassie and Julianna. “Starting in May, the station is going to produce a thirty-minute drama one night a week, and call it The Assignments of Blair Burkett, Investigative Reporter.” She clapped her hands. “Nap says I’d make a perfect Blair. Isn’t that the cat’s pajamas?”
“You’d be wonderful!” Julianna exclaimed. She tried to sit up straighter, but was held back by the weight of her stomach. She sighed, resting her hands atop her roundness.
Virginia reached over and grabbed her hands. “I’ve got a divine idea! Julianna, come to work with me!”
“Oh no,” Julianna protested. “I don’t have a radio voice.”
“But you have an English degree,” Virginia said. “You could be my serial writer.”
“Serial writer?”
“Yes!” Virginia shined with enthusiasm. “Nap needs a writer for the program.”
“Virginia, I studied literature. Chaucer, Shakespeare—men you said were boring because they’re dead.”
“But you wrote a zillion compositions and got all As,” Virginia coaxed.
“Are you f
orgetting the baby?” Julianna patted her stomach. “It’ll be here sooner than we think and will keep me so busy.”
“Excuses, excuses!” Virginia said as she jumped up from the sofa and retrieved her purse from a chair. She rummaged through it in search of a stick of gum, having given up smoking around Julianna because the smell brought on nausea. “Tell her, Cassie.”
“You can write from anywhere, can’t you?” Cassie asked. “You wouldn’t have to leave the house or the baby.”
“And she can write now,” Virginia added, “before the baby comes.”
Amid a tingle of excitement, Julianna thought about their suggestions. “When you put it that way, maybe I could give it some thought.”
Cassie smiled, her dark eyes dancing back and forth between the young women. “It’d be good for you, Julianna. Help you put some money away in case—”
“I need to get away from Leyton?” The thought had occurred to her. She had the money Jace had left her and earnings from his business in a bank in Ambrose Point. It was a security blanket, but it wouldn’t last forever if she needed to access it, especially with Jace’s child to care for.
She looked at Virginia. “What kind of adventures does Nap have in mind for this Blair Burkett?”
“Crime adventures, and she goes undercover,” Virginia gushed. “The juicy part is that the bad guy is always alluring and Blair must fight her attraction—” Virginia stopped and covered her mouth with her hand. Eyes apologetic, she said, “Oh, Julianna, I’m such a booboo brain. This reminds you of Jace and the concept is too close to home, isn’t it?”
“Actually, I probably could write for Blair Burkett.” Julianna gave a good-natured shrug. “I am Blair Burkett.”
Relief washed away the stricken look on Virginia’s face. “If you’re sure then, I’ll talk to Nappy tonight.” Her eyes twinkled, and she appeared to be entertaining a dream. “Julianna, I know this is just a local program, but what if a big sponsor picks us up? We could go network. Think about it.”
What Julianna was thinking about was Virginia’s love-’em-and-leave-’em track record with men. “Just don’t break up with Nap before your first day on the air.”
“You needed me, sir?”
Leyton stepped in Richard’s office, envying the fact that it was larger than his own.
“Close the door and have a seat,” Richard said from his desk. “I have something to discuss with you.”
Leyton took a seat and faced Richard. From his bag of tricks, he whipped out an expression of grave concern. “I hope that my performance hasn’t slipped.”
Richard waved away his son-in-law’s look of concern, oblivious that it was only one of many faces Leyton could wear at will. “Nonsense. Quite the opposite.”
“Sir?”
Richard took a cigar from the gold, monogrammed box on his desk. “Have one,” he said, nodding at the box. “This is a cause for celebration.”
“What is this all about?” Leyton smiled as he reached for a cigar.
“First, I think it’s very high time you stop calling me sir. After all, we’re family. I’d really prefer that you call me Richard.”
“I’d like that.” It was about time he’d been offered this rite of passage. “Richard.”
“Starting this summer, I’ll be going into semi-retirement,” Richard announced. “What do you think of that?”
Leyton chose his words carefully. “I think you’re most entitled, sir. If anyone has earned the joys of retirement it’s you, but the bank will perish without your leadership.”
Richard took a thoughtful draw on his cigar then placed it in a marble ashtray. “I’ve had many good years overseeing the People’s Standard.”
“That you have.”
“And I’ve invested all of myself into this bank,” Richard continued. “So much so that I could never step aside as president unless I knew capable hands would take over.”
Leyton said nothing, knowing that to pursue a name would be too obvious an attempt at appearing humble. It was no secret that Richard had been grooming him to take over the helm.
Richard was grinning. “Are you up for it?”
Leyton took a deep breath and bit his lower lip as he looked around the room, hoping to appear so touched and honored that he needed a moment to collect himself.
The first thing I’m going to do is take down that oil painting above his desk.
“Leyton . . .”
Leyton snapped to attention. “Sir, yes, I feel ready to continue the great work you’ve built, though I hope you’ll continue to be an integral part of the operations.”
“Oh, I’m not planning to die or anything.” Richard laughed through a haze of cigar smoke. “I’ve chosen to function as president emeritus.”
And that, Richard, is exasperating. “And that, Richard, is excellent,” he said.
“I won’t be involved on a full-day basis, and I plan to conduct business from the study at Dreamland,” Richard went on, “but I’ll always be actively involved and available.”
“That is . . . very good to know,” Leyton said, his pleasant expression masking his visions of Richard being actively involved until a doctor called his time of death.
Richard came around his desk and slapped Leyton on the back. “So, come summertime, you’ll be acquiring this office, along with the irreplaceable services of Bertha.”
Hells bells, Leyton thought at the mention of Richard’s long-time secretary. She had to be left over from ancient history, someone who managed to span the centuries as she built upon her office skills. She was an outstanding secretary, Leyton couldn’t dispute that, but he had always envisioned a different type of secretary sitting outside his office when he became the bank’s president. Something younger, thinner, blonder.
“Bertha will be invaluable for sure,” Leyton tried, “but certainly you’ll still require her talents?”
Richard shook his head. “I’ll need some secretarial services, but Bertha is much too qualified to continue with me part time. What I’ll need is someone to handle light typing and filing, someone to run errands. More of a Girl Friday instead of an executive secretary.”
“Ah,” Leyton nodded. “Well, there are plenty of capable young women. I’m sure you’ll find a trustworthy assistant.”
“I’ve got one in mind.” Richard returned to his chair. “Bertha’s niece.”
“I don’t believe I’ve met her,” Leyton said, figuring he wouldn’t remember her even if he had. The niece of a secretary was hardly one to include within his social boundaries.
“I haven’t either,” Richard said, “but she used to live with Bertha, and Bertha has been hinting that she needs a job.” He shrugged. “It’s a favor to a devoted employee.”
Leyton hardly cared about this, but he wanted to appear interested. “And the niece’s name?”
“Polli,” Richard answered. “Polli with an I.”
In keeping with its reputation, March came in like a lion. The wind threw itself against the windows, making them creak and rattle as though trying to force its way inside.
As the days unfolded, so did the radio drama of Blair Burkett. Julianna and Virginia had great fun creating Blair, a heroine Virginia insisted be a gorgeous redhead in fashionable clothes.
They billed Blair as The Girl Reporter Whose Adventures Begin with a Simple Assignment. She lived in a city called Metro and worked for the Metro Monitor, under the editorship of Joe Sardan. He was streetwise and gruff, always sentencing Blair to mundane assignments and assuring her the job would be a piece of cake.
The Art Show at the Metro Gallery . . . piece of cake, kid.
The Grand Opening of Metro Jewelers . . . piece of cake, kid.
The Fall Ball at the Metro Grand Hotel . . . piece of cake, kid.
The assignments, though, carried Blair into the world of international art thieves, diamond smugglers, and gambling rings, led by men who were not all bad even though their hands weren’t clean. Always, Blair found herself madly att
racted to a tender heart trapped in a hard shell, made that way by a sad childhood or cruel twist of fate.
Every script had the same ending, delivered in bass with dramatic pauses and accompanied by the intense music of a pipe organ. For the honor of justice and the integrity of journalism, Blair Burkett used beauty and brains to do the right thing, though her heart will always wonder: would love have turned that man around?
By early April, they had six thirty-minute scripts prepared, with a debut airdate scheduled for mid-May. As promised, Virginia was slated to play the part of Blair and share the microphone with Nap, who would perform the roles of all male characters. He had developed a slew of character voices and could switch personalities with the smoothness of silk.
The show would air at nine thirty on Tuesday nights, positioned there by Nap, who considered his decision an act of programming genius. For starters, they would follow the live music of The Scotty Reidman Orchestra, a local group that had garnered a big following and had also agreed to stay after and provide the musical score for Blair. Even better, Blair would precede Fibber McGee and Molly, a new comedy being carried by the network WYRC was affiliated with.
With Blair fitted between two popular shows, Nap believed his brainchild would get and keep listeners, but he also planned to promote it with a newspaper article. It would introduce Virginia and himself as the voice talents and mention the well-liked orchestra, but as far as the writer behind the scenes, Julianna would be anonymous.
It was being done at her own request and for one simple reason: Leyton.
“This baby is becoming more real to me,” Julianna explained to Virginia. “It’s making me question my plans to wait around for Leyton’s great fall from grace.”
“You still think it’s coming, though, don’t you?”
“Absolutely, but what about the meantime? If he makes our living conditions impossible, we might need to run for safer grounds. I need the income from Blair. If Leyton finds out about it, he’ll sabotage everything.”
Seeking the Shore Page 7
