Riverside Park Page 14

  He nodded. “Yes. So if you wanted to count that, then, yes—” He shrugged. “I suppose you can say I represent Georgiana Hamilton-Ayres.”

  “But you know her. Right?”

  He nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Because I want her to write her autobiography,” Kate said. “And I want you to convince her to do it and then sell it to me. There’d be a few stipulations in the contract about what she has to talk about in it—”

  “Like what?”

  “Her relationship with Alexandra Waring—”

  “Oh, is that all,” he said sarcastically, reaching for his glass of wine.

  “What it was like being shuttled between her father’s castle in Scotland and her mother’s home in Hollywood, her mother’s movie sets and then, you know, just about her life since she’s been on her own. The movies, the costars, what she’s learned about herself and life—”

  “And she would want to write this why?” he asked skeptically.

  “She told Spencer Hawes she was interested in doing it.”

  Howard considered this. If anyone would know something like this it would be Spencer, who was married to a powerful tastemaker in the form of a glossy magazine publisher. “But I thought Spencer was leaving you guys.”

  “He is. He and Verity have this deal to start up a new magazine in L.A. New Yorker gone Hollywood, or something. That’s why he was talking to Georgiana about it and then brought the idea to me. Spencer gets exclusive first serial rights to the book and uses her as the cover for their premiere issue.”

  “And how did I get to be so lucky as to be brought in on this?”

  “Georgiana’s changing agents, to Johnny Kohrbach’s new group, which doesn’t have a literary division. And Spencer and I both think you’d work very well with her.”

  “I’m flattered, thank you. And tell him thank you.”

  “Just get us what we want, Howard,” she laughed.

  Howard sipped his wine, thinking. His eyes moved back to Kate. “So she really is interested in doing this? Airing her dirty laundry?”

  “It doesn’t have to be dirty laundry,” Kate said, “we just want her to address the fact that the laundry exists.”

  Howard could feel the excitement building in him. “I can’t imagine her family’s going to be pleased about such a project.”

  “Her mother’s wet-brained and the earl’s off his rocker and you know it will all be in done good taste. I mean look at the woman. She does whatever she wants and her fans only love her more.”

  They raced on in their discussion and both made notes (although the lighting had been designed to discourage overt signs of business being conducted in this genteel atmosphere). Kate was talking a million on signing which would mean a one-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar commission right off the bat. It would be enough to break the logjam if he could just hold on that long. Of course he had to talk Georgiana into wanting him to represent her but it sounded as though Kate and Spencer Hawes had already done a lot of that work for him.

  They left The Pierre and walked up to 72nd Street. “You’re so lucky you got out when you did,” Kate said. “I’m already beginning to feel like the Moses of book publishing and I’m telling you, these tablets are getting heavy.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m serious. After Spencer leaves I’m wondering who I’m going to have left to talk to. For whatever faults he might have, Spencer’s pretty good on the inherent challenges of making enough money to satisfy the owners and still publish books that you’re proud of.”

  “So where does Georgiana Hamilton-Ayres’ autobiography fall?” he asked her.

  “Hopefully somewhere in the middle.”

  They walked on awhile, each in their own thoughts. “Do you ever think about coming back on this side, Howard?”

  He stopped walking. “Are you kidding? You come to me about a three-and-a-half-million-dollar deal and then in the next breath ask me if I’d like to slash my income and be bullied and kicked around by a bunch of foreign owners?”

  She sighed. “What’s wrong with me, do you suppose, Howard, that I can’t seem to leave it? Do something like you’re doing?”

  They started walking again. “Who’s to say you won’t be doing what I’m doing some day? In fact,” he added, looking at her, “maybe that is something you and I should talk about down the road. You coming in with me.”

  “Oh, don’t tempt me!” she cried.

  He pressed his shoulder slightly into hers. “I’m serious, Kate. Just keep it in mind. Between you and me, I’m looking to expand. To bring in one or two agents as partners. You know you’d be fabulous.” By the time he put Kate in a cab Howard was in better spirits. Even if Kate Weston never left Bennett, Fitzallen & Coe, it was nice to know she thought highly of him.

  Though the night was cold Howard walked across Central Park toward home to think about things. If Georgiana were to write the book Kate wanted, it occurred to me him that DBS might not be too happy about it. He wondered if it might prove to be a little awkward with the Darenbrooks when he saw them. When he was on Central Park West he cut over to 89th Street to stop in for a quick cheeseburger at Captain Cook’s. As he approached the door to the bar, Jason DiSantos came barreling out, nearly crashing into him. “Sorry,” Jason muttered, swerving away.

  “Jason?”

  The teenager turned around. He was obviously upset, but didn’t say a word; he only stood there, breathing heavily.

  “You need a coat, Jason,” Howard finally said.

  “I’m okay,” Jason said and hurried off into the night.

  Howard stuffed his gloves in his coat and hung it up. He slid onto a stool at the bar, plucked the small menu out of the holder and looked up to see that ESPN was on.

  “Hey,” Celia said, coming over.

  “Hi. I owe you an apology,” he said as he looked over the menu.

  “For what?”

  He looked up. “For my behavior on Thanksgiving. I was in a very strange frame of mind and shouldn’t have done what I did.”

  She batted the apology out of the air with a flick of her hand. “Apology accepted. It never happened.” She smiled. “I recommend the salmon, if you like salmon.”

  He did like salmon and sipped on an icy Beck’s while he waited for it, thanking God he hadn’t done anything with Celia—particularly now, when there was a chance of sorting this financial mess out.

  Maybe it would be a happy Christmas after all.

  17

  Cassy Takes Emma to the Lawyer’s Office (continued)

  CASSY LOOKED AT her watch. She’d been waiting for Emma Goldblum at Thatcher, Wyndam & Lamont for one hour and fifty-five minutes. She turned the page of the magazine she was not reading.

  The whole country had seemed fascinated by Georgiana Hamilton-Ayres’ gal pal relationship with Alexandra, particularly since the tabloids continued to link Georgiana romantically with whatever male costar she was working with. Cassy tried to shut it all out except in the narrow line of view as network president.

  Work went on as usual for several months and then Alexandra dropped a bombshell. “The first thing is, I’m absolutely fine. I received a complete clean bill of health this morning.”

  Cassy had covered her stomach, the lurch in it had been so strong.

  “I had a small cancerous tumor in my right breast. I had a lumpectomy and I just finished six weeks of radiation. I’ve come to tell you this because I would like to go public about it now, promoting awareness that, yes, indeed, women under forty do get breast cancer. And the trick is still early detection.”

  They had worked together so closely and for so long Langley did not think it was unusual that Cassy had started to cry, wiping her eyes, saying how happy she was that they had caught it in time. Langley simply gave Cassy his handkerchief and went over to give Alexandra a tremendous hug, which for him was tantamount to crying.

  Once Alexandra accompanied Cassy down the hall to Cassy’s office, however, Cassy had closed the do
or and lost it, railing at Alexandra how dare she suffer a life-challenging illness and not tell her.

  “It was easier for me to cope if I didn’t,” Alexandra said. “Georgiana doesn’t even know.”

  Cassy had stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “It seemed like a good time for us to have a little time apart anyway. Sally was keeping an eye on me. If something had gone wrong, she would have told you.”

  “Sally?” Cassy very nearly shouted. “You told Sally Harrington and you didn’t tell me?”

  Alexandra nodded. “I’m very grateful to her.”

  “And I’m going to wring her neck,” Cassy said, walking around her desk to sit down. She slipped on a pair of reading glasses, pulled a legal pad closer and picked up a pen. “All right. So we’ll talk to Eric about a press conference. When do you—” She stopped and took off her glasses, trying to think. “Are you well enough to go to the West Coast for any of the Mafia Boss Murder Trial?”

  “Oh, yes,” Alexandra assured her.

  Cassy was on the verge of asking about her separation from Georgiana but didn’t. It was just as well since within two weeks Cassy learned from Sally Harrington that Alexandra was back with Georgiana. Probably for keeps.

  The receptionist at Thatcher, Wyndam & Lamont had taken her coat out of the closet and was putting it on. “Do you want me to check again before I leave to see how they’re coming along?”

  “I’d appreciate it, thank you,” Cassy said. “I need to let our driver know.”

  All Cassy had required to know something was up was to see Alexandra, Georgiana and Alexandra’s brother, David, leaving West End together. And when David said later he just felt like coming East for a visit with his sister (never in David’s life, Cassy knew, had he taken such a whimsical detour from his work) somehow Cassy had guessed what might be going on, and she had been proven correct.

  “When are you planning to tell DBS about the baby?” Cassy said to Alexandra when the men, Langley and Will, dropped behind them as they walked down Park Avenue. They were attending a memorial service at St. Bart’s for a reporter who had worked at their local affiliate here in New York.

  “When there is one, I should think,” Alexandra smoothly answered.

  “I assume one is coming that will look a lot like a Waring.”

  “That’s the plan,” Alexandra said, glancing over as they started up the stairs. “As of a week ago, at any rate.”

  The world had started to spin for Cassy in that moment but she had continued on, as she always continued on, numbly taking her place in the pew reserved for them. She saw Alexandra get up to speak about the reporter but Cassy did not comprehend much of what she was saying because it was sinking in, really sinking in, that there would be no going back, that she had lost Alexandra once and for all.

  Alexandra had only given her a decade to get her act together.

  The thought of merely working around her was dismal and Cassy had examined her options.

  “We both know you won’t leave DBS in the next five years,” the chairman of a group of cable networks told Cassy. “It’s still learning how to walk, it needs its mother. So I don’t even know why I’m bothering to talk to you about this job.”

  “You don’t want to leave DBS for us,” the CEO of one of the Big Three said to her. “You’ve got freedom, profits and fun at DBS, where we’re experiencing something akin to the fall of the Roman Empire. It’s no fun, Cassy.”

  “For crying out loud, Cassy,” her old boss at WST said, “you are DBS. You’ve got the same problem Dr. Frankenstein had. The creature only seems to respond to you and the whole village is trying to kill it. There’s no way DBS can survive without you right now. You’ll never be able to live with yourself.”

  “Geez, Louise, Cass,” Jackson said one evening, coming out of his dressing room while using his electric razor before they left for the theater, “where are all of these rumors about you leaving DBS coming from?”

  “Attorney Thatcher says Mrs. Goldblum will be out in five minutes,” the receptionist reported, bringing her back to the present.

  “Thank you.” Cassy called the driver to relay this information and leaned over to pick up an issue of Kiplinger’s.

  Not long ago her accountant had announced she was officially rich and didn’t have to work another day of her life if she didn’t want to. When Cassy asked him what she would do with her time he suggested gardening and perhaps golf.

  Cassy and Jackson were awakened at almost one o’clock in the morning by the telephone. Cassy’s heart skipped a beat as it always did when they got a call at that hour. Had something happened to Henry? Her mother? Was Lydia on the loose? Kevin? She had moved over in the bed closer to him as Jackson rolled over to pick up the phone. “Darenbrook.”

  She held her breath, resting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “She is?” He turned to Cassy. “Alexandra’s downstairs.”

  She froze a second. “It must be something important.”

  “Yeah, send her up.” He hung up the phone, turned on the light and swung his feet out of bed.

  Cassy was already standing and putting on her robe. “Go back to sleep, Jack.”

  “How can I go back to sleep when I know the whole world’s probably blown up,” he grumbled, thumbing the waist of his boxer shorts as he walked to the bathroom. “That’s the only reason why she’d turn up at this hour.”

  Cassy was standing in the doorway when the elevator arrived and Alexandra emerged looking pale and utterly wrung out. She was still in her studio clothes and her makeup was a mess. “Is Jackson here?”

  Cassy nodded, stepping back to hold the door open for her to come in.

  “Oh, God, forget it,” Alexandra said, turning back to the elevator.

  Cassy moved quickly. “Please. Don’t go.”

  “What’s goin’ on, girl?” Jackson said, his looming figure filling the doorway. He was tying the belt of his robe.

  “The world at large I believe is safe, Jack,” Cassy said, shielding Alexandra a bit from view. “Alexandra thought I’d still be up.”

  Jackson peered around Cassy. “You okay, kid? No, you’re not okay. Are you?” The last was said gently. He stepped up next to Cassy. “Is it like a woman thing or—You know, I—” He looked at his wife.

  “Why don’t you go back to bed, Jack,” she suggested softly.

  He nodded, looking over at Alexandra. Then he impulsively went over to touch her arm and kiss her on the forehead. “Anything we can do,” he murmured. “You know. We’re here for ya.”

  “Thank you,” Alexandra said quietly.

  Cassy waited until he left. “Let me get the keys. We’ll go next door.” When she came back she unlocked the door of her old apartment and Alexandra went in ahead of her. Cassy turned on the foyer light and followed Alexandra into the kitchen where, a moment later, she found Alexandra leaning over the sink with her eyes closed and her forehead resting on the faucet.

  “Can I get you some water?”

  “I just told Georgiana I can’t do it,” Alexandra said. “I told her I could not be responsible for bringing a child into this world when I knew in my heart we wouldn’t last.”

  Cassy pulled a stool out from the breakfast bar and slowly sat down.

  Alexandra straightened up, turned on the water and washed her face with her hands. Cassy got up to get her some paper towels. Alexandra finished splashing water over her face, drank a few handfuls and then dropped her head down in the sink. “God, I wish I was in Kansas,” she said. “I could take my pillow and blanket and go outside in the moonlight and hide in the cornfield, because then I could sleep knowing nobody could find me. Except maybe a fox.” She took a deep breath and stood up, reaching for the paper towels. “Thank you.”

  Cassy retrieved two glasses from the cabinet and filled them with water while Alexandra sat down at the breakfast bar. “Everyone gets scared about becoming a parent,” Cassy said, handing her a glass.

  “It’s not about being a pa
rent.” She drank down half of the water and put the glass down. “It’s about trying to force myself into a commitment I don’t want to make.”

  Cassy nodded slightly, sipping her water. “You’ve got a lot going on, and are under a lot of pressure—”

  “Cassy,” Alexandra said sharply. “Please.” She blinked. “Look at me. Do I look like someone who’s in love, wants to get married and have a child? Or do I look like the rat I am who never should have gotten involved with Georgiana in the first place, much less lead her on all this time, when I damn well knew it wasn’t going to work.”

  “Maybe you need some time.”

  “Maybe you should just listen to me for a minute,” she said, dropping her eyes.

  After a moment, Cassy said, “I’m listening.”

  “I don’t care if you stay married to Jackson,” she said, her eyes still cast down. “I won’t ask you to make changes, to change anything, if you don’t want to.” Finally she brought her eyes up. “I’m only asking you to love me, Cassy, and be with me when you can.” Her eyes filled. “I can’t—I don’t want to go on without you. Do you understand? Whatever I have to do—you tell me, and I will do it. But I’ve got to have you in my life.”

  “This is, um—” She looked at Alexandra, overwhelmed. “This is really—”

  “I know,” Alexandra said.

  “A part of me has been praying for this moment,” Cassy admitted.

  Alexandra didn’t move.

  “But it’s not fair to you.”

  “It’s not fair for me to pretend I want anyone else,” Alexandra said. “I did it, Cassy. I found the ideal person. I gave it my best—I got everything I wanted.” She swallowed. “But I love you, Cassy. I always will. So I don’t care anymore, do you hear me? I’ll be with you under whatever conditions you say.” She smiled a little. “You might say that you lost the battle but you won the war.” She swallowed again. “If you still want me.”

  “Of course I do,” Cassy said. “And I’ll try, as I can, to sort it out—”