Jerry dropped me off at the paper, as promised. With my picture above the fold on page one, my anonymity on metro would have been short-lived. I remembered Max saying I’d probably start using my car to commute. He was right, but I don’t think he had fame in mind.
Mary was not at her desk. I wrote her a note requesting a parking pass for the company garage. Cards and flowers filled my cubicle. Suddenly, Mary was alongside me. “Ms. Lassiter awaits both of us.” We went to the editor’s office.
“It seems like every local news outlet—radio, TV, print, cable channels, and C-SPAN—want a piece of our Pulitzer award winner,” Lassiter said. “Mary, you’re her gatekeeper today. Van will move your other reporters elsewhere.”
Van Peoples was Lassiter’s assignment editor.
“Van’s talked with the TV folks. We’ll be using the executive conference room, and they’ll do their one-on-ones there. Each gets ten minutes. Van will ask everyone to sit in, to help save some time. He also suggested the conference room be set up sports-style, similar to post-game interviews in pro football and golf. Laura, you’ll sit in the center with Mrs. Osterman on one side and Barton and me on the other.”
I appreciated not having to stand. I could see this was a big day for the Star as well as for me. No one from the paper had ever won this particular Pulitzer.
“Van will be with you during the one-on-ones.”
Unlike after the serial-killing story and all the fuss over me then, Jerry reminded me that I was the story this time. He encouraged me by saying, “Act grateful. Remember, what you did was a big deal. Winning the award is a big deal. Some humility is called for.” I agreed.
The news conference part lasted a little over forty-five minutes.
It drained me, and I asked for a short break. I went to the restroom and washed my face with cold water. I took some deep breaths and called Jerry, who answered immediately.
“How’d it go?”
I laughed. “Very well.”
“I haven’t been able to work. I went out for a walk.”
“Sweetheart, I was fine.” I took a small hairbrush from my bag.
“What’s your schedule?”
“I’ve got TV one-on-ones next. Van will be with me.” I placed my phone on the counter, putting it on speaker so I could brush my hair and touch up my makeup while we talked.
“How many, do you think?”
“Half dozen or so. There’s not a lot more I can say that I haven’t already said.”
“Yeah well, you know reporters; they’ve got to ask the same question three, four—”
“Hey! I’m a reporter, too, you know,” I said, leaning closer to the phone for added emphasis.
“Yeah, but you get it right the first time.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Fields,” I said, putting my things back in my bag. I adjusted my dark-blue jacket over my pale-blue shirt. I looked very much the executive, unlike my normal harried, nothing-in-place look.
“I’m having lunch in the Executive Dining Room with Barton Williams and Lassiter. I’ll call you after that. Love you.”
“Love you.”
The interviews all went well. Most took less than the allotted time. They mostly wanted to know my feelings about being pregnant while tracking a serial killer who was killing pregnant women and to know about my relationships with the White House interns. The lunch was delightful. I felt that some of the extra attention from Barton was his way of saying he was sorry for almost having me fired.
Back at my desk, Mary had sorted out messages, cards, and hard copies of emails and faxes. She handed me some pink message slips. “I thought you might want to reply to these. There are only two.”
“Max and who else?” I said, taking them.
“A friend, if I remember correctly.”
I looked. “Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed, looking at the second slip. “Kat Turner. You’re right; we did part friends.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to the rest. I have . . .” she paused, grinning. “I forgot. I don’t have anybody else to assist today.”
The newsroom had celebrated my scoop, breaking the serial killer story. Maybe this second celebration was a little like winning two Oscars in a row. It was great for the recipient, but others might be saying “enough is enough.” There was still the luncheon Mrs. Osterman mentioned, but I thought I’d better get out on the beat and get my hands dirty. Although never one of the gang, I felt I had better act like one.
Mary interrupted my musing. I was still standing, staring down at my desk.
“Too daunting a task?” she asked.
“I’ll be glad when the celebrating is over and I can get back to work. After today, we need to downplay all this and let me mess up my office.”
“No more decorations, I promise.”
I smiled. “You’re like a kid.”
“Maybe it’s more like my having kids; I know what pleases them.”
“Well, you certainly please me. Let’s go through all this together, if you have the time.”
“I’m all yours,” she smiled. “This really is a big day.”
We sorted out the messages: friends, insiders, outsiders, and ones we didn’t know. Mary placed each group into a file folder, giving it a name.
I called Jerry and filled him in.
“You sound a little weary,” he said, concerned.
“Can you pick me up before four?”
“I’ll call you when I’m in the car.”
I called Max and told him about the media bash.
“I’ll be sure to watch as many channels tonight as I can.”
I matched his tease. “What, you’re not going to tape them?”
“Please, I’m not a teenager. I don’t know how to run one of those tape machine things.”
We laughed. It felt good.
“Oh, I almost forgot. One of my callers was Kat Turner.”
“My, my. That is very special. Tell her I hope she is doing well.”
I picked up the message slips, which now numbered five. One puzzled me. It was from a Michael Horne, administrative assistant to Senator Roanne Dalton. He wanted to congratulate me on the Pulitzer and to know if I could meet with the senator in the next couple of days.
A senator wanted to talk with me. I dialed his number.
After my call, I went immediately to Lassiter’s office.
“He didn’t tell me a lot. He’s bringing me some papers tomorrow. He said it involved the pharmaceutical industry and one company in particular.”
“He’s coming here?”
“Delivering it personally.”
“And he’s Senator Dalton’s AA?”
“That’s what he said.”
“I’ll have Van check him out, see if he’s who he says he is.”
“He’s definitely in the senator’s office.”
“Fine. Let’s see what he’s got.” Her tone reflected her desire for our meeting to be over.
“Right,” I said, standing.
“If it’s got a local twist, we might be allowed to keep it here. We don’t do Capitol Hill.”
“We didn’t do the White House either,” I chirped, smiling cockily.
“How you coming along on that ballpark story?”
Whoops. I got carried away. “I’m on it.”
As I left Lassiter’s office, I felt things were finally getting back to normal.