CARMEN WASN’T NERVOUS, AND that both surprised and pleased her. She sat in Dennis Ketchum’s outer office, waiting to be called into the sacred inner chamber, not even bothering to rehearse what she would say when he made the offer. She would try not to jump at it—not right away. She would hold out for a little more money than he offered initially. When he’d called her last night to ask her to come in this morning, his voice had been lively and promising, and she’d thought to herself: At last. She was going to get back Sunrise.
Through the window, she could see the rain clouds far in the distance, hovering over Valle Rosa. This was the third day of rain. She had announced Jeff’s plan on the news the night before: three days of rain, two of sun, repeating the pattern for as long as it took to fill the reservoir and bring life back to Valle Rosa. The sun was necessary, he told her, to keep spirits alive. Only a few people seemed disturbed by the unnaturalness of it all. Most were planning picnics and celebrations for the two days of sun, reveling in the predictability of the weather.
Dennis suddenly opened the door to his office. “Carmen?” He smiled. “Come in.”
She followed him into the poshly decorated office and took the seat he offered next to his broad cherry desk.
“Well,” he began, “every time I look in the direction of those rain clouds over Valle Rosa, I think of you. Our own Carmen Perez. I have to admit, I didn’t think Cabrio was for real. I thought you were chasing a fantasy, but I didn’t care, since everyone else in San Diego seemed delighted to tune in to News Nine and join you in the delusion. But this is something, Carmen.” He looked out the window toward Valle Rosa, shaking his head. “This is really something.”
It had been a long time since she’d heard such genuine words of praise from him. “There were moments when I had my own doubts.” She sat back in the chair, crossing her right leg over her left. “What was it you wanted to see me about?”
He pulled a sheet of paper from the pile on his desk and rested it on the blotter in front of him. “Well, we don’t have the numbers worked out yet, but I wanted to let you know that you’re in for a big raise.” He looked at her from under his bushy eyebrows. “A very big raise.”
She tried to mask her confusion. Perhaps she was misunderstanding him or he was teasing her, prolonging her agony. “And what exactly will I be doing to merit this big raise?” She smiled, taking the bait she assumed he was offering.
“The North County Report,” he said. “Not only the light stuff you’ve been doing, but the whole thing. All of it.”
He was serious. She hid her shock, but an edgy tension ran through her body. “Dennis,” she said, “I really think you should consider putting me back on Sunrise.“
“On Sunrise?” He looked so astonished that she knew he hadn’t given the idea even casual consideration.
“Well, yes.” She attempted to smile. She wouldn’t let him know how she was counting on it. “Did you read the article in the Union the other day?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, frowning, “but…”
She leaned forward, resting one arm on his desk. “Oh, come on, Dennis.” She spoke bravely, forcefully, as though they were equals. At one time, she would have spoken to him that way with absolutely no hint of the trepidation she felt now. “I want my show back. The viewers want me back. I created Sunrise.“
“And you did an excell—”
“I have ideas for it. I—”
“Look, Carmen.” He snapped a cigarette out of the pack on his desk and lit it, taking a long drag. “You did create Sunrise. You created the style and sass and bite that made it the top-rated morning show around. No one can ever take that away from you.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “But you’re not that hard-driving woman anymore. I only have to look at you to see that you’ve lost your taste for the jugular. You’re doing a great job with this Cabrio stuff, but it’s work now—isn’t it?—where raking people over the coals used to be your cup of tea.”
“No, and—”
“And Craig told me you didn’t want to cover the bus crash last week.”
How did Craig know that? She thought she had concealed her panic about that assignment very well. “Jeff Cabrio was moving the equipment up to the—”
“The roof, yes. I know.” He leaned back with a sigh, eying her skeptically, and she lowered her eyes. He saw through her. He saw her own doubts. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, and she tried to ignore the patronizing tone. “So, go ahead,” he said, “tell me your ideas for Sunrise.”
She cleared her throat and looked directly at him in an attempt to salvage some of her trumped-up bravado. “I would start off with a show no one would miss. I’d put on the people I’ve been interviewing about Jeff Cabrio. People from his past. People who know all the secrets he’s so intent on keeping to himself.”
Dennis’s chair squeaked as he shifted his weight. He didn’t look disinterested. “Go on.”
“Dennis, Cabrio is hiding something. I still don’t know what it is, but I’m not going to stop until I’ve uncovered it.” She was surprised by how strong her voice sounded, as though she had no qualms whatsoever about continuing her intrusion into Jeff’s personal life. This drive to reveal him at all costs sickened her, but if there was another tune she could sing, she didn’t know it. The only certainty in her life right now was that she couldn’t rebuild her career on the slim pickings of North County Report. Once Jeff’s story had been milked dry, once the fires were out, she’d be reduced to covering Little League games and the avocado harvest.
“You still have tenacity, Carmen, I’ll say that much for you.” Dennis stood up. “Listen. Sunrise is not up for grabs at the moment, but I will definitely think about something bigger for you with News Nine. That’s all I can promise right now, all right? You keep up the good work. You show me your mettle, Carmen. I won’t let it go unrewarded.”