Page 131 of Hello, Summer
“Are you invited to Vanessa’s dinner tonight?”
“I certainly am,” she said, stroking the thick, triple strand of pearls around her neck.
“We won’t have time for you to type up your column in time for the special edition. Do you think you could just call into the office and dictate it to Lillian?”
“Say what?” Lillian said sharply.
“I’m paying you time and a half,” Grayson said.
“Double. And I wanna get reimbursed for these doughnuts,” Lillian said. “I’m not made of money, you know.”
“Mike is going to take the good camera with the zoom lens, and he’ll shoot outside the church. And after, at the reception at the Baptist church,” Grayson said. “We’ll need shots of Vanessa with the governor, that kind of stuff. And of course Charlie. Be great if we could get a shot of Vanessa and Charlie together.”
“Not gonna happen,” Conley predicted.
“You think Toddie and her kids will show?” Grayson asked.
“If they do, Vanessa’s head will explode.”
“Then let’s hope it happens. Exploding heads make for great front pages,” Grayson said. “Either way, I’m thinking we put out another digital special edition. Not tonight, because I think that’d really be pushing it, but in the morning.”
“Fuckin’ A,” Mike said, pumping his fist. He blushed. “Oops. Sorry, Rowena. My bad.”
“Conley, you’ll be roving,” Grayson continued. “We’ve gotta keep it low-key, but if you see a good photo op, shoot Mike a text. Or if you can be discreet, shoot it with your phone. I want you concentrating on the human-interest angle—family angst, all that. Mike, the political angle is yours. See if you can get the governor to talk about when he’ll schedule the special election to fill Symmes’s seat in the House. It’s a long shot, but maybe he’ll weigh in on the Vanessa-Charlie controversy.”
“What about me?” Lillian demanded. “What am I gonna do while I sit around here waiting to get dictated to over the phone?”
“I want you to call or email every business that was a new advertiser this week. Tell ’em we’re putting out another digital special edition in the morning, and this is their chance to get in with a special rate.”
The office manager sighed heavily. “Gonna be a long day.”
“Okay, team, that’s our game plan,” Grayson said. “You guysalready kicked ass once this week, and I know we can do it again. Right?”
“Abso-fuckin’-lutely,” Michael said. “Whoops. Sorry again, Rowena.”
The elderly columnist was busy feeding a doughnut to Tuffy. “That’s all right,” she said serenely. She looked over at Conley. “Isn’t it nice that the staff meeting is over so early? This way, you’ll still have time to go home and get dressed before the funeral.”
“Iamdressed for the funeral, Rowena,” Conley said.
“Oh,” Rowena said, stroking her pearls again. “Oh my.”
49
The midafternoon sun beat down on the mourners gathered outside the white-columned Silver Bay Presbyterian Church. Conley could already feel her silk shirt sticking to her back as people pressed closer and closer to the church entry.
Michael shifted impatiently from foot to foot, tugging at his already loosened tie. “What are we waiting for? Why don’t they open the damn doors?”
He obviously hasn’t attended many funerals,she thought.
“We’re waiting for the funeral procession,” Conley informed him. “Long black hearse, pallbearers carrying a long, mahogany coffin. Like that.”
“Right. My bad.”
They’d managed to spirit Rowena around the crowd fifteen minutes earlier, and she’d worked her dowager queen magic on an usher stationed at a side door, who wordlessly opened the door wide to allow her access.
“Okay,” Conley said, pointing toward the street, where a stretch limo was slowly pulling alongside the curb. “That should be Vanessa.”
She trailed closely behind him as he moved into position. The limo driver hopped out and came around and opened the door. Vanessastepped out and, spotting the television crews stationed on the sidewalk, straightened her dress and paused for dramatic effect. A dignified older man got out of the other side of the car, came around, and took her arm.
