I must admit. Her tears got to me. Tough Lanie Price. Sure, sure. I felt like a cad when I left Mrs. Goodfellowe’s house. Trying to fulfill my promises to a little boy, I’d gotten a man killed, nearly cost Sam his job and now I was even beating up on an old widow woman in a desperate, pathetic search for a solution that would fix everything.
Cold sunlight streamed through the glass doors to the newspaper building’s main entrance and dappled the brown marble vestibule floor with a flat, hard light. How many more days would I get to witness that particular play of sunlight? I felt a surge of nostalgia, already anticipating that my days with the paper were numbered.
I was about to write what could be my last column for the Chronicle. It might not even be that if Sam refused to print it. I would talk to him about it beforehand, of course, sort of lay the groundwork. That would be simpler, and more diplomatic than my usual approach, which was to write the piece and then battle him over it.
It had been two minutes since I’d pushed the button for the elevator and there was no sign of it coming. I glanced at my watch. It was after six. Johnny had probably taken off for the day. He usually didn’t wait around for Lewiston, his replacement. The evening operator was a nice enough guy, but he was always late. There was no telling when he’d show.
I headed for the stairs. Thank goodness, we weren’t high up.
One floor away from the office, the sound of a male voice floated down.
“Selena...”
My ears perked up. The voice was familiar.
“Sam, you know she’s gone off the edge. You need me. You need what I have to offer.”
“Now why would you think that?”
A pause. The sound of movement. A new intimacy in Selena’s voice.
“Aren’t you ready for something new? Something hot and sassy?”
My face grew warm. My hand tightened on the railing. I couldn’t clearly hear Sam’s answer. I continued up the stairs, treading lightly.
“You’re an excellent reporter, but the column belongs to Lanie.”
“Now, you and I both know I’m not just talking about that.”
I leaned over the railing and peered upward. Sam and Selena stood on the stairway, two floors above. He was holding copy. She was holding him. Her arms were linked around his neck, her pretty, overdone face turned up to his.
I turned the corner on the stairway. She saw me. An evil smile flickered over her lips. Seeing her gaze, he started to turn around, but she caught him by the chin.
“Now, Sam, dear Sam. Don’t be difficult.”
Stroking his chest and puckering her lips, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. It wasn’t a long kiss, but to me it lasted an eternity.
He unlinked her arms from around his neck. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Really?” she said. “But you liked it. I could tell.”
“Yes, I liked it—I’ll admit that—but not enough to want more. Now, let go.”
She leaned into him, purring. “C’mon, I can lay it out just as well as she can. Do it double-time, baby, and with half the hassle.”
“Look, you’re a very attractive lady, but you’re—
“What? Not good enough?”
“Hello.” It was time to make my presence known.
He whirled around, stunned. “Lanie, I—”
I shook my head. What was there to say? I climbed the last steps between us and pushed past him. He grabbed me by the elbow. I couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Selena,” he said, “Maybe, you want to leave us alone.”
“No,” I said. “No need to break up the meeting.”
“Lanie,” he said. “We have to talk.”
I nodded. “But not right now. I have business to attend to.” I forced myself to look at him. “And it looks as though you do, too.”
Selena must’ve read the pain in my eyes. I sure read the triumph in hers. Images of Sam and Selena, and the sound of her insidious whispers, followed me up the stairs. I moved with leaden feet, gripping the banister. By the time I reached the newsroom, I felt dizzy.
Normally, the place was half-empty by then. Most folks came in as early at six or seven a.m., so they went home at four. But it was late Monday, deadline time, so a whole lot of people were working late, trying to beat the clock. A bunch of folks looked up when I came in. At the look I gave them, several dropped their gaze again.
I plunked down in my chair, leaned on my desk and covered my face with my hands. Then I counted from one to thirty, my heart thudding like a long-distance runner.
It was my fault that he was out there with her. I’d pushed him away again and again. What did I expect?
I glanced at the wall clock. Were they still in the stairwell or had they gone off somewhere else, where they could be alone? I wanted to go back and check. But I had something more important to do.
A column to write.
I straightened up and willed myself to concentrate. As I rolled a fresh sheet of paper into the typewriter, Selena breezed in. She was smiling from ear to ear, glowing with guilty pleasure, patting her hair and smoothing her skirt. Eyes followed her as she trotted back to her desk. Heads swiveled back to the door as Sam entered. He strode over to my desk, bent down and said: “I want you in my office. Now.”