MILT CRAMER BREEZED by Brooke’s office door midmorning on Tuesday. With no greeting, he simply said, “Brooke, I need to see you in my office now.” And he kept walking.
Brooke abandoned the news stories her team had selected in the production meeting that morning. She’d get back to them later. She hustled to Milt’s office.
Milt sat behind his desk, his hands folded on top. He leaned back in his chair. “Sit down, Brooke. We have to talk.”
She sat, but not comfortably, with her feet flat on the floor, her knees feeling stiff. “Is something wrong?”
“I would like to think not, but I’m afraid so,” he said. “I hear our boy did that broadcast test on Wednesday. Is that so?”
So that’s what this was about. Brooke relaxed. She could easily defend Jeremy’s first attempt in front of the camera. Many others, she knew, had done a lot worse and had still ended up being successful. “He did, yes,” she said. “You and I talked about giving him time in front of a camera. Actually, I thought Wednesday might be a bit early, and—”
“How do you think he did?”
“Not bad. But he isn’t quite ready yet. With a little coaching he’ll be up to the task.”
“You’re skirting the truth, Brooke,” Milt said. “He was lousy!”
Brooke tamped down a spike of anger. He hadn’t seen Jeremy’s performance. How could he judge? “That’s not so, Milt. Jeremy wasn’t perfect, but he was okay. Quite good, actually.”
“No. He wasn’t. Even that ditzy girl with the pink hair who follows you around all the time…what’s her name? Chrissy? Missy?”
“Cissy.”
“Yeah, her. She said Jeremy looked like a cardboard cutout sitting at the desk. And his voice sounded flat as a pancake.”
“This was his first attempt at working in front of a camera,” she said.
“He’s been here three weeks. He’s watched Fred. He’s shadowed everyone in this building. You gave him practice camera time once before. And that’s not even counting that he’s been in front of cameras his whole football career.”
“That’s not the same,” Brooke argued. “Speaking to a reporter about a sports game can’t compare to delivering the news to a general audience.”
“Still, he should be a pro. I thought he was when I signed him to a contract. He was confident enough then. ‘I can do it, Milt,’ he said to me. ‘This is the chance I need.’ I believed him, and then, just to make sure he was camera ready and picture-perfect, I set him up with you to round out the rough edges. Turns out the guy is all rough edges, and maybe you can’t fix him.”
“Milt, you’re jumping to conclusions.”
“Am I? Do you have any idea how much money is involved with that contract?”
Brooke remembered Jeremy telling her that he’d taken a pay cut from pro football to serve as anchor for WJQC, but now probably wasn’t the time to say that. “I assume it’s a considerable amount,” she said.
“You’re darn right it is, and I counted on you to make him an anchor—not just any anchor. The best one in the Charleston area.”
“Don’t read too much into what Cissy told you. She doesn’t have experience in judging what makes a good anchor. I’m telling you that Jeremy shows all the signs of a competent reporter. We still have time before you want to introduce him to the Charleston audience.”
“Only a couple of weeks. Jeremy is supposed to take over for Fred on June twenty-fourth.” Milt placed his elbows on his desktop and leaned forward. “You knew what this deal means to me, Brooke. And what it means to you and everyone at this station. I’m starting to wonder if you’ve been putting all your effort into this. Or if you’re still wrapped up in whatever personal thing is going on in your life.”
“I’m putting every spare moment into this,” she said. “And as for my personal issues, they aren’t your concern. They never were. I haven’t brought my problems into work since you warned me about it.”
“Good to know, Brooke. We’ve always been a team, you and me. And I’ve counted on you for this. I had to get you to recognize the importance of hiring Jeremy for this job.”
“We’re a team? You said you’d fire me.”
“I say a lot of things. And it’s still a possibility. We have a board of directors at WJQC. I have to answer to them. They’ve been wanting Armitage out for months, and I’ve stalled them because Fred has been here so long. Thank goodness Fred announced his retirement before my hind end was up to the fire. Crockett was my ace in the hole. He was going to save the station, make the board happy, wow the listening audience. If he doesn’t, Brooke, I’m going to look like a fool.”
“You’re not going to look like a fool,” Brooke said, hoping it was true. “Jeremy will be ready.”
“Then you’re going to have to up your game,” Milt said. “Missy got that tape from the production room and brought it to me.”
Brooke felt her jaw drop. “She what?”
“Her critique was pretty accurate. He stunk, and I can’t help thinking that you weren’t even going to show it to me.”
He was right. She wasn’t going to. Not until Jeremy had practiced a lot more and they’d made another, better test that Milt could compare it with. Oh, Cissy. Why did you do that?
“You’ve got to get this right, Brooke. A lot is riding on Jeremy’s success.”
As if Brooke didn’t already know that. Her job was riding on it. Jeremy’s new house, his lifestyle, his promises to his kids. Yes, there was a lot riding on this venture.
“And you’ve got to show a little patience. Give me the time you promised me, Milt,” she said. “Jeremy won’t disappoint. He’ll practice. I’ll arrange more practice sessions. We’ll review. He’ll be ready.”
“Okay,” Milt said. “But as long as we’re testing this guy, let’s see how he does on the interview circuit. He’s got to be able to talk to people face-to-face. I want him to interview the chief financial officer for Charleston on Wednesday. That’s tomorrow. I’ve already set up the appointment, and I had to cross hell and high water to get it. Davis has been keeping his head in the sand lately.”
This was not good news. It was rumored that the CFO was skimming funds from the top bids of contractors. Nothing had been proven yet, but a cloud of suspicion was hanging heavily over the entire department’s head. “With regard to what?” she asked.
“With regard to the funds being misused on the city bridge projects. I want to know what this guy, Davis, is up to. The citizens of Charleston deserve to know. There will be an election soon, and Davis has hinted that he’ll be running for mayor.”
Oh, great, investigative reporting of the most difficult kind. Milt wanted Jeremy to flex his muscles in front of the city’s second most important official and get answers? Brooke didn’t know if Jeremy was up to the task. And besides, the assignment was not fair. Jeremy wasn’t hired to be an investigative reporter. He was hired to be the front man, the face of WJQC. “I’d rather you wouldn’t send Jeremy on this assignment,” she said.
“I’m sure you do, but I want to see if he’s got the right stuff to handle a tough interview. If he has it, then nothing around here should stop him. I’ll send you and Jeremy and a cameraman to city hall tomorrow,” Milt continued. “Let’s see what Jeremy can discover. I hope it’s the lead story for Fred that night.”
Brooke didn’t see a way out of this latest demand. Milt needed to find confidence in his choice for anchor some way, and now he’d decided to test Jeremy’s prowess at digging deep into Charleston politics. Well, maybe this could work, she thought. If Jeremy proved himself at city hall, maybe the poor performance on tape would be forgotten.
“I’ll expect you to provide Jeremy with thought-provoking questions,” Milt said. “And prepare him to face off with the CFO if it comes down to that. Let him know he can’t pussyfoot around with his questions. Good grief, Brooke, the man was the toughest offensive end in professional football for years. Surely he can handle a schmuck like Davis.”
“I’m certain he can,” Brooke said. “I’ll have him ready tomorrow.” Tomorrow? Talk about pressure!
“See that you do. If you and Jeremy can break this story, our ratings will go way up.”
Brooke left Milt’s office with a mix of emotions. This could be the assignment that would endear Jeremy to Milt for a long time and secure all their futures. Especially if Jeremy ended up with a scoop none of the other stations had. But Jeremy would have to play true hardball at the CFO’s office. He’d have to ask leading questions and provoke Davis into giving answers.
He could do it, she told herself. Jeremy’s rough-and-tumble background was just what was needed to get the truth from a politician who might be skimming funds. Jeremy would be direct and forceful. This would be a piece of cake for a man whose gut instinct was to do the right thing. Wouldn’t it?
* * *
JEREMY HAD BEEN busy all day listening to various reporters on WJQC. He practiced his own voice modulation and tried to implement the techniques Brooke had given him. Once he felt more confident about his progress, he would concentrate on camera operation, sound systems and technical glitches that happen no matter how much care is taken to avoid them. He finally caught up with Brooke early in the afternoon when he walked by her office.
“Hello, gorgeous lady,” he said, stepping inside.
Brooke laughed and played with the tousled blond hair that waved around her shoulders. Okay, she didn’t look as put together as usual, but the word gorgeous still applied.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. “Have you had as busy a day as I’ve had? If so, you look much better than I do.”
“Not possible. But yeah, I’ve had a busy day.” He parked himself on the edge of her desk and frowned down at the pile of papers still on her blotter. “Let’s get out of here and go to Pickler’s for a drink.”
“I’d love to,” she said, “but give me a few minutes to clean this up. You go on over and I’ll meet you there.”
He stood and headed for the door. “See you there.” Walking the couple of blocks to the pub, Jeremy was aware of the warmth in his heart and an outlook on life that had taken a decidedly upward turn. Maybe he was being corny, but Brooke Montgomery was making him a happy man. He might even have burst into song if he didn’t think he’d frighten everyone on the street.
A little more than three weeks. That’s as long as he’d known Brooke, but every day he felt he’d gotten closer to her, and every day he’d begun to think of a future with her. Sure, they had some problems to overcome. She was a city girl. He loved his life in the Lowcountry hammock. He had kids, and he still wasn’t quite sure how Brooke felt about that, but Cody had become one of her biggest fans, and Alicia would come around. And he still had to convince Brooke that the woman he’d been with for so many years was now gone, and he was ready to start over. Jeremy was confident he had some skills he could use to prove himself to Brooke, ones she didn’t seem to mind. Another reason to smile.
In fact, just thinking of kissing Brooke, holding her in his arms, made a silly grin seem appropriate. Who would have thought it, Crockett? he thought to himself. That you could fall so hard so fast. But he had. Or he was. Or he soon would. Whatever the path, he was ready to take it.
Jeremy took their usual table in the bar, next to the window, and waited for Brooke to come. She walked in after about a half hour. They’d have to order their drinks right away. Jeremy had promised Marta he’d be home in time for her to catch a seven-thirty movie.
When the waitress brought their drinks, Brooke took a sip and suddenly turned serious.
“Something on your mind?” he asked her.
“Yes, there is. I had a meeting with Milt today.”
“Not bad news, I hope.”
“No, not bad. But he wants you to spread your anchor wings a bit and venture into new territory.”
Jeremy frowned. Was Milt thinking of moving him to another area of production? Had Milt seen that tape that, according to Brooke, was less than satisfactory? “What kind of new territory?”
“He wants you to get the experience of handling an interview—actually an investigative-reporting assignment.”
Jeremy relaxed. That was okay. He’d witnessed lots of interviews in his playing days. He’d been interviewed more times than he could remember. Some of those interviews still pained him since they’d involved some bonehead mistakes he’d made on the field. He could manage this new idea of Milt’s. “So who do I get to interview?” he asked Brooke.
She told him about some rumors flying around city hall, the possibility of money mismanagement. “I know that Fred will be reporting this story,” she said. “But Milt wants you to know how a serious news item like this makes it to air. He thinks you’ll be perfect in a match with Kirby Davis, the city’s chief financial officer. I’ll prepare questions for you, and we’ll have a cameraman present.”
“I don’t know much about the CFO,” Jeremy said. “Just that his name is Davis, and he’s eyeing the mayor’s office.”
“That’s true,” Brooke said. “But some people believe he’s become the most powerful man in Charleston. People who hold the purse strings often are.”
“Do you know if the rumors about him are true?”
“I don’t, but Milt seems to think they are, and he’s excited about a matchup between you and Davis. He wants you to flex your muscles on this one, Jeremy. Pull out all the stops.”
Somewhere in his core, a tingle began and it spread to his suddenly pounding heart. This was real news. This was finding it, uncovering it, leading it in the right direction. He was suddenly jacked about the whole idea. Imagine him exposing an ethical problem in the mayor’s office.
He agreed immediately and even told Brooke he would be looking forward to the next afternoon.
“That’s great,” she said, obviously relieved that he reacted the way he had. Did she think he’d turn down an opportunity this great? That ladder to the anchor’s desk, which had seemed to reach the clouds, was now just a bit shorter.
“And afterward I hope you’ll go out with me to Hidden Oaks,” he said. “It’s pizza-and-board-game night at my house. Cody wants you to come. Not as much as I do, but a lot.”
“That’s sweet. But what about Alicia?”
“She didn’t object,” Jeremy said. “Let’s take our victories when we can get them.”
He paid the bill and walked Brooke to her car. The long, lingering kiss in the garage was the capper on an already great day.