“I do know Larry has been talking about retiring. His wife wants to travel and their grandkids are involved in sports, and he’s been hating those missed games. As for Becca, I honestly don’t know what happens after her maternity leave.”
“Well, that’s half as bad, I guess. I can’t say I’m surprised for you. You deserve the big push. Me, I’ve felt like an imposter from the beginning.”
“Hey, it takes a little time to get your sea legs.”
“It helped that you were my life preserver.” Still looking worried, Greg wet his lips. “I do have to tell you that if that’s all they want from me, I know I can’t handle the cut in pay.”
Wanting nothing more than to circle around the desk and give him a reassuring hug, Hunter held up her index finger to address that. “You’ll be doing more investigative reports during the week—probably for me,” Hunter added. “From what I was told—let’s say reassured—that should keep you in good shape. It will definitely build up your street cred.”
Greg dropped his head back and all but crowed, “Yes!”
Breathing easier herself, Hunter ventured, “So it’s okay? You’re fine with this?”
“Oh, man, it’s my birthday and Christmas combined.”
Starting to feel better herself, Hunter offered some insight. “It will probably mean more hours away from your family…and investigative work, street work, isn’t without its dangers.”
He nodded, all solemnity. “But you’re nothing without it, and the networking opportunity with law enforcement and city personnel is invaluable. Don’t get me wrong, I have loved sitting beside you, but you’ve paid your dues. I’m seen as a short-tracker and it’s not a good feeling—at least not for me.”
That perspective was all she needed to hear. “You’re going to be all right. I’m glad and proud for you.”
“Thanks for going to bat for me. No, don’t try to downplay it,” he added when she began to protest. “I know without your input I’d be feverishly polishing my resume.”
“Whatever I said was because you’d earned the support. I know you’re going to be a big asset to the station.”
“I will do my best even though the price of all this is having to go cold turkey on my addiction to late-night video games.”
Hunter laughed, knowing how he often filled the time gaps between their programming slots by playing any and every video game he could find—one of the ways he avoided the snack machines, he’d admitted. By the time he left to find Kevin, Hunter was confident that he would impress everyone.
Sitting alone again, Hunter knew this allowed her to feel better about things, even to get a little excited about anchoring the news by herself. She knew she could do it, but because everyone else had adopted the team format, she’d never minded being part of one. How strange, though, that she owed this career opportunity to Cord, especially when he admitted it was a first step in what would inevitably mean her leaving San Antonio.
Why encourage what would cost him easy access to her?
I want you.
Yes, and now that he was in the business equivalent of music’s First Chair, Cord wouldn’t have to worry about collecting frequent-flier miles. He could follow her wherever and whenever if that’s what he wanted to do. Money hadn’t been an object before, and it certainly would never be now.
What’s your problem? Any woman would be thrilled with this—a wealthy man, who’s also eye candy, hot for you, and professionally supportive?
That’s it, she thought. She didn’t have to do anything, and rewards would fall in her lap.
Her pride wouldn’t allow it. It just wasn’t right.
“Blast it,” she muttered. “Blast you, Cord.”
Chapter Four
“I’m so grateful for your company, Hunter, dear. I know you must be exhausted, having only just gotten off the air again, but with Cord still not back, I’m not sure I could keep my stiff upper lip without you.”
Sitting beside Lenore Yarrow on the couch in a quiet corner of the hospital waiting room that was being refurbished and enhanced, Hunter took the weary and worried-looking woman’s clasped hands in her own and stroked them gently. Yes, she was tired. The pace of her workday had almost doubled since she’d started anchoring the news by herself this week—not that it had to. Cord had made it clear that he would hire her another intern or even another reporter should she feel the need, but she wasn’t about to be the cause of the station’s costs rising. Besides, she enjoyed the hands-on part of her job every bit as much as she loved anchoring. Regardless, she wouldn’t let a little fatigue keep her from offering her company and reassurance to the woman who had been as supportive of her as Henry had been, especially at this upsetting and critical time.
Shortly after her first installment of the news this evening, she’d received a call from Cord in Chicago that had shocked her. Although Henry was scheduled to undergo surgery next Wednesday, he’d collapsed and had been rushed to the hospital. That’s when Cord told her the truth about his grandfather—that he had a brain tumor that the doctors were afraid might be cancerous.
“I hate to ask this,” he’d said, “but can you get over there tonight after the ten o’clock news to give her moral support? I’m not sure that I’ll even make it back by then. There’s a bomb threat, and we’re sitting outside the airport’s toll gates. The place is one damned parking lot because they won’t let us in.”
The double blow had left Hunter reeling, but she had assured him that she would. After hanging up, she’d rushed to Kevin Dalworth’s office to inform the station chief and he’d agreed that she should go be with Lenore immediately and return for the late night news. Since Cord was finally in transit by then, but still an hour or so away, Tom and Fred had been dears in getting her out of the building as soon as the program had wrapped.
“I wish I could do more,” Hunter said to Lenore. “But I’m sure Cord will be back soon.”
“Surely he postponed his meeting?” The anxious woman looked to her for encouragement. “It’s never taken this long for a flight back from Chicago.” Wrapping the soft, dove-gray shawl, which matched her hair and eyes, more tightly around herself against the air-conditioning, Lenore shuddered. “Maybe we should turn on the television. I can’t even remember what the weather was supposed to be like up north. He could be in another storm. Oh, this is one of those times when I wish he was in a larger plane.”
Immediately after his grandfather’s retirement, Cord began traveling to their various YCI stations to assess and reassure staff and hadn’t been due to return until the day before Henry’s surgery. After Chicago, he’d been scheduled to go to New York. Like Henry, he was showing a keen attention to economics and didn’t see the sense in coming all the way back to Texas for two days only to fly north again.
Not about to let Lenore watch TV in case the security situation was being addressed, which would upset her more, Hunter changed the subject. “Are you sure I can’t get you some soup?” Hunter asked. “If you didn’t eat all day, you have to have something. Cord won’t be happy with me if I let you end up a patient here, too.”
“He knows exactly what a treasure we have in you.” Lenore leaned over to touch her temple to Hunter’s. “But no, I couldn’t keep anything down. Besides, I haven’t burned any calories sitting here like a squatter. Oh.” She shivered again. “They keep these places so cold. Even the hallways feel like mortuaries.”
“I’m sure it’s to help avoid incubating germs, but I suspect you’re shivering because nutrition-wise, your body is running on empty.”
“I feel sorry for the babies in the nursery,” Lenore continued as though Hunter hadn’t spoken. Then she added drolly, “At this rate they don’t have to worry about Henry’s tumor growing—they’ll have to chisel it out.”
Her ability to find a bit of levity during this difficult time was admirable. Everything about Lenore was, Hunter thought, stroking her hand again and trying to pass on a little of her warmth. From the years of listening to
Henry speak of her, she knew that Lenore was the second Mrs. Yarrow. His first wife had died when Cord was a teenager. She didn’t know what Cord’s parents had against Lenore, but she knew they’d hurt Henry deeply.
Hunter did know that Lenore and Henry met when—as a journalism teacher—she’d brought her students to the station for a tour. Henry had come out of his office to say a few words and had ended up finishing the tour with them to buy more time with the comely widow. How romantic, Hunter thought. They’d been together for almost twenty-five years, and whenever she saw the two of them together for photographs, there was no mistaking that they still looked at each other as though they were newlyweds.
“When was the last progress update?” Hunter asked.
“You’ve been here over an hour…almost three hours ago,” Lenore replied. “Maybe they’re close to finishing, don’t you think? If they hadn’t been able to stop the hemorrhaging, this would be long over by now.”
Lenore had told her that at the initial briefing, the internist had told her that Henry was showing signs of bleeding and that the neurosurgeons were being called in for emergency surgery. Hunter wondered how long it had taken to collect everyone and then to review the latest MRI scan or whatever they had done.
“I would think no news is good news,” she murmured.
The sound of footsteps had them both looking up. Cord came striding around a corner. He looked as pale and stressed as Lenore, but his hair and clothing remained impeccably neat. Hunter didn’t try to deny that her insides did a little dance at the sight of him or that she was grateful for his safe return.
“Cord—bless you, dear!” Lenore cried out, reaching for him. “I’m so relieved.”
Hunter rose and stepped away to give him a chance to sit beside his step-grandmother and have a private moment. But she couldn’t make herself look away. She was fascinated with the genuine affection he displayed as he embraced the woman who had lifted his grandfather out of depression and given him a second chance at love and happiness.
“I’m so sorry for not getting here sooner,” he said. “You must think we could have flown to Panama in the time it’s taken us to get back here.”
“Just as long as you’re safe and didn’t take any risks.”
“What’s the latest on Gramps?” he asked, neatly skirting the need to explain more.
“Hunter and I were just discussing that. What did we decide, dearest?” Lenore asked, her expression vague.
“That given the fact that they had two challenges instead of one that they should take all the time they needed.”
Cord met her gaze and mouthed, “Thank you.” Then he said to his step-grandmother, “I’ll go see what I can find out.” He rose and vanished down the other corridor as quickly as he’d arrived.
“I hope he doesn’t scold anyone,” Lenore said before biting her bare lips. “Of course, that’s exactly what Henry would do if the situation was reversed. Men are terrible at waiting, did you ever notice that? It’s we women who are blessed—or cursed—with that ability.”
Hunter returned to sit beside her and put a reassuring arm around her. “I’m sure he’s beating himself up for having been out of town. This is his way of trying to do something.”
“You’re right. I’m not thinking straight. As you’ve found out for yourself, I’m afraid I don’t accept nurturing as well as I like to bestow it.”
“Nonsense,” Hunter replied. “You’ve been very tolerant of my annoying suggestions and pleas.”
“But you’ve made little progress with me,” Lenore said with a smile. “I think I’ll go to the ladies’ lounge and run my hands under some warm water. If you’d like to make me a cup of hot tea, I’ll do my best to drink some of it.”
“Do you need me to come with you?”
Lenore patted her knee. “I’m thickheaded and not reasoning all that well, but I think I’m still fairly stable on my feet.”
Hunter was over in the kitchenette area making the tea when Cord returned. He scanned the otherwise empty room and then came straight to her.
“She’s in the ladies’ room,” she told him before he could ask. “This tea is for her. She’s getting terribly chilled.”
“She looks so frail. Thank you again for being here. I finally spoke to Kevin, and he told me you did way more than I meant to ask of you.”
“All I could think is how utterly alone and afraid I would feel if it was me having to endure this, and it was a no-brainer to go to Kevin and ask for his approval.” Too aware of his close proximity, she kept her gaze on the tea she was stirring even though she hadn’t put anything in it yet. “Did you find out anything?”
“Word is that they’re almost through with the surgery. His doctor should be out to report on things shortly thereafter.”
Hunter closed her eyes and sighed. “Then he’s alive. Thank Heaven.”
When she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her, and for the space of a few heartbeats, they could have been alone in the universe. His expression was a breath stealer if she’d ever experienced one.
“Permission to tell you that I’ve missed you?”
She laughed breathlessly. “How could you? We talked at least twice a day, and you texted almost twice that much.”
“I only wanted to make sure you were comfortable with the way things were going in your first week anchoring solo,” he replied, trying to look innocent and failing.
“Right. Like, ‘what did you have for dinner?’ or asking for help with the paper’s crossword puzzle has anything to do with my job.”
“So, maybe I didn’t want my absence to give you the opportunity and willpower to put back walls between us.”
“You mostly flirted, and at least twice, I had someone in my office. Once it was Fred and Wade, both of whom recognize your voice when they hear it. It was very awkward.”
“Well, you’re not in the office now, and may I say you look particularly lovely.” He took another slow inspection of her dusty rose silk suit. “That’s new.”
“I’m looking into the psychology of colors in the wardrobe,” she said, admitting to some shopping to enhance her new position. “It was a hard news day, and the theory is that shades of pink can convince an observer not to blame the messenger.”
“No one with your compassionate eyes, tender mouth and that darling chin thing you have going on would be blamed for anything.”
“Chin thing?”
“Well, it’s not exactly a cleft, and it’s not a dimple, but it does make it all the tougher not to want to kiss you.”
As Hunter’s pulse leaped, she was grateful to see Lenore returning. “Give her this tea,” she intoned, handing him the foam cup.
With a mild look of reproach, he did. Then he was back in coaxing-grandson mode, fussing as Lenore tried to change her mind about the hot drink. But she was relieved to hear that they should be seeing the doctor shortly.
“Do you think they’ll have gotten all of the tumor, Cord? What will we do if he wakes and doesn’t know any of us?”
Lenore had told Hunter earlier that, because of where the tumor was located, that was one of several possibilities. Wanting to give them the privacy such a discussion deserved, she retreated deeper into the room that was blocked in soothing colors of blue and purple. But as she pretended to browse at magazine offerings by the next, low-lit seating area, she couldn’t help hearing more—much that touched her heart.
“He’ll still be the man we love,” Cord said. “And you’ll figure out how to reach him. I remember how after his heart doctor berated him for not taking better care of himself, you convinced Gramps to give up his golf cart and walk with you around the grounds.”
“Oh, you give me too much credit,” Lenore replied. “What happened was that the second time I did get him to walk, we came across a doe and her newborn fawn. Henry was enchanted and realized he would never see such beauty again if he was on that intrusive thing, barreling to the next hole on his mini-course. He never did walk w
ithout his favorite wood, though. He claimed it was to swing at ‘crows and critters’ to protect me. But I know he needed its help to balance occasionally. In hindsight, I believe that’s when the tumor began to grow—it was affecting his balance.”
Cord coaxed the cup to her lips. “He’s told me often enough that there was no better guide to view the flora and fauna than you. Your students’ loss was his gain.”
Hunter watched Lenore beam and blossom under his loving words. If there was an ounce of insincerity in Cord, then she was a failure at reading people. As much as he kept her nervous about his personal attention toward her, she couldn’t help but like him for his gentleness with Lenore.
“Sweetheart,” Lenore said, noting her distance. “What on earth are you doing way over there? Come sit with us.”
Admittedly happy to do so, Hunter had just begun to sit down across from them when two men came around the corner. The most somber-faced man, still in his surgery cap and blue surgical uniform, scanned them, looking for the person he should report to. His gaze locked on Lenore.
“Mrs. Yarrow?”
“Yes.”
Hunter noticed how Cord took hold of her hands and kept her seated, and her heart tightened at that protective gesture. If the news was bad, Lenore would be less likely to injure herself if she remained on the couch.
“I’m Dr. Stack. Henry has made it through surgery.”
“The bleeding…?”
“We’ve managed to stop it.”
“And the tumor?”
“We removed as much as we could.”
“But not all,” Lenore whispered.
The surgeon compressed his lips, his gaze lowering for a moment. “We couldn’t risk trying for everything. I’m sorry. Our hopes are that we bought him some time. Perhaps months.”
“I understand, Doctor,” Lenore replied. But the look she sent Cord questioned if she could believe that.
“He’s an impressive, resilient man, and rest is an amazing medicine. He’ll stay in an induced coma to keep him still through tonight and start the healing.”
It's News to Her Page 7
