Sweet Anger(42)

“Meaning that you’re not going to help me this time?”

“Meaning that I am going to help you. Really help you.”

“By talking them out of suspending me?”

He sighed. “No. By making it stick. Use that time away to get your head together, to get things into perspective. McKee’s become an obsession with you. It’s unhealthy. You’ve blown his responsibility for your hardships way out of proportion.”

“My God,” she said, bolting from her chair. “Who are you all of a sudden? His campaign manager?”

“No,” Pinkie said, trying desperately to hold on to his temper. “But the man’s only doing his job. He had been all along. He’s been like a burr under your saddle since he said things about Thomas you didn’t want to hear.”

“They were lies!” she yelled. “Would you have me mutely stand by and have him slander my husband?”

Pinkie looked at her sadly. His eyes dropped to his desktop for several moments before he looked up at her again and said quietly, “Are you sure they were lies, Kari?”

She recoiled as though he’d slapped her. “Of course they were. You … you don’t think Thomas was a thief?”

“I don’t know about that. I only know that he wasn’t the god you thought he was. He was a man. He had faults. You just couldn’t see them.”

“You believe that he entertained whores when he was out of town? You believe all that?”

He knew it would hurt her, but it was time she saw things as they really were. “I knew about some of Thomas’s flings. Everybody did.”

She folded her arms across her stomach and bent forward as though in pain. “Please tell me you’re lying, Pinkie.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

He shook his head. “I know nothing for fact. But when there’s that much gossip, it’s usually based on some degree of truth. You were vulnerable when you met Thomas so soon after your father’s death. He was just what you needed at the time, strong, indulgent, protective. I was glad you had him. Damn glad.”

She sank into the chair again. “The wife is always the last to know, isn’t she? I feel like such a fool.”

“Don’t. Wynne adored you, too. His escapades had nothing to do with your life together. You were blissfully in love and probably would have been for years to come if he hadn’t died that day. But he did.”

He came around his desk and took her hand. “You’ve been blaming the wrong guy for Thomas’s sins, Kari. McKee didn’t have any choice but to bring them to light.” He pondered his next words. “I don’t think he enjoyed it any more than you did.”

Her head rested on Pinkie’s arm for just a moment, then she pulled away. Her tears had dried, but she looked thoroughly defeated. “Maybe I do need some time away. I have a lot to think about, feelings that have to be sorted through.” She stood and went to the door.

“What will you do?”

She gazed at him sightlessly for a moment before saying vaguely, “I don’t know.” Then she left, drifting through the empty newsroom, becoming one with the shadows.


The last person Bonnie expected to see when she pulled open her front door was Pinkie Lewis. “Do you have a drink?” he asked without one word of greeting or explanation.

With an irritated gesture, Bonnie jerked the tie belt on her robe tighter. “What happened? Did the bartenders go on strike?”

“Do you have a drink or don’t you?”

She stood aside, giving him her silent and none too gracious permission to come in. “Whiskey?”

“Yes. Neat. A double.”

One of the first things Bonnie had done when her last child left for college was refurnish her house. She had discarded all the pieces bearing the ravages of children. The new furniture was her reward for having survived the years of her sons’ upbringing when treats to herself had been rare if not nonexistent.

Pinkie slung his coat over the back of a chair and sprawled on the couch. He pulled off his tie and tossed it on the corner cushions of the sofa. His shoes came off next. His rumpled presence spoiled the whole effect of her now-perfect house. She was surprised at how glad she was to see that disorder. Her house had been too tidy for too long.

She handed him the glass of whiskey and sat down beside him, resting her arm on the back of the sofa and curling her bare feet under her hips. “Do I owe this visit to unrequited passion finally given vent, or what?”

He shot her a sour look. “I don’t feel like sparring with you tonight. I feel like hammered crap. Management suspended Kari for three months.” He filled her in on the details. When he was done, she sat in meditative silence. His ruddy head came around. “Well, say something.”