IT’S MIDDAY ON SATURDAY. ERICA surveys her room at the enchanting Bismarck Holiday Inn—the decorator must be color-blind, how else to explain the pairing of mauve and chartreuse. But the thought of spending the night at the Staybridge made her shudder. And hideous room or not, the truth is she’s glad to be out of New York, away from Greg, even if it’s only for one night. Their home life has been reduced to desultory dinners filled with polite chitchat. She has so much she wants to talk about, but any mention of Spotlight triggers a chilly response. And when it comes to Jenny’s behavior, he shrugs everything off with the all-purpose “it’s adolescent acting out.” For her part, she resents his flirtation—or whatever it is—with Leslie. It seems like midlife male acting out. And if he’s so eager to get back into the producing end of the news business, well, GNN isn’t the only network out there.
Speaking of Leslie, that’s a call Erica’s been putting off, but time is getting tight. She sits on the edge of the bed and dials.
“Erica, how are you? We missed you terribly at Peggy Noonan’s.”
“I’m back out in North Dakota.”
“Yes,” Leslie says in a way that lets Erica know she already knew that. “Productive?”
“We got terrific footage of the Bellamys. Gloria sent you a rough cut of the whole show. There should be enough fodder there for you to formulate your thoughts and opinions.”
“I’ll look at it post haste.”
It’s been in her mailbox for almost twenty-four hours, and now she’ll look at it post haste? Two weeks ago, Leslie was an eager little camper, offering Erica and Spotlight all sorts of help. Now she’s turned into a cool customer.
“Can we film you on Tuesday?”
“Yes. Can you come down here?”
“I was thinking the studio might work better. Your apartment is so spectacular it may distract from your words.”
There’s a pause and then, “I actually think it gives me more authority. You know I hate the stereotype of the fusty academic. Probably because underneath these absurdly expensive clothes and my weekly massage, I am dull and fusty.”
Erica knows when she’s been disarmed. “Your apartment will be fine.”
“Greg was an absolute gentleman at the party. He charmed one and all.”
“Thank you for getting him out of the house.”
There’s a laden pause and then Leslie says drily, “It is fascinating. This whole secession business. The wanting to break away, to start anew, to declare independence.”
“Sometimes people don’t realize how good they have it.”
“Yes, and sometimes they do. But they’re bored with the status quo.”
“There are risks involved in reckless action.”
“This nation was built by risk-takers,” Leslie says with the authority of a Pulitzer-winning historian.
“I think we’ve survived because the Founding Fathers minimized the risk that we’d split apart.”
Leslie makes a funny little sound of surprise at being challenged before saying, with finality, “And then the Civil War happened.” There’s a tense pause before she adds, “So, I’ll dive into the rough cut and send you some suggested questions.”
“I’ll be happy to take a look at them. But when I do an interview, the questions are always mine,” Erica says in a tone that lets Leslie know it’s the final word.
There’s a reproachful pause and then Leslie says, “You’re a curious creature, Erica Sparks.”
And then she laughs—that knowing, ironic, and entirely mirthless laugh.
Erica hangs up feeling naïve, confused, and bested. Is her marriage really shaky? And so soon? She knows one thing: if Greg does stray, she’s not going to be one of those look-the-other-way wives. No way no how. She’s going to change the locks.
Erica feels resolve flowing through her veins like an elixir. And it works. For a moment or two.
Because somewhere, deep under her denial, Erica knows that Greg cheating on her would shatter her world.