Whitewater Rendezvous

screwing someone else, probably right at that moment, in the posh hotel room the network had booked for her at the Paris economic summit.

Back then, Megan was only a copy editor, so she rarely got calls in the middle of the night, even when a major story broke. The anchors ad-libbed everything, and there was always a skeleton crew of writers and editors to cover any event. So when her phone rang at 2:30 a.m., she was instantly awake and immediately worried that something had happened to Rita, who was on assignment in Paris. The voice on the phone was unfamiliar.

“Megan Maxwell?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know me, Megan. Can I call you Megan?” The caller had sounded like she was crying.

Megan’s heartbeat picked up. “What is it? Is it Rita?”

The caller laughed, a hollow laugh that became a sob.

“What is it? Has something happened?” Megan gripped the phone so tight her knuckles went white.

“Yes, it’s about Rita. And yes, something’s happened.” Megan could tell the caller was trying to compose herself. “There’s no way to tell you this except to tell you. Rita is cheating on you and she’s going to leave you.”

The words hung there. She closed her eyes and saw them in her head, pictured bloodred letters on a black background. RITA IS

CHEATING ON YOU AND SHE’S GOING TO LEAVE YOU. She

thought in words and pictures, a photographic memory. Usually like a newspaper. Black letters on a white background. But not this time.

“Are you there?” The stranger’s voice jarred her.

“I don’t believe you.” Rita had kissed her good-bye like she always did. Nothing at all different. They’d made love the night before she left.

It had been wonderful, as always. At least for Megan it was wonderful.

The fi rst doubt crept in.

“You have no idea she’s been seeing my girlfriend for six months?”

the caller asked shakily.

Six months? It was impossible. “Your girlfriend? Who are you?”

“My name is Denise. My girlfriend is…was…Iliana Theroux.”

A face sprang instantly to Megan’s mind. Clear blue eyes set against lush dark eyelashes, bronze skin. Iliana Theroux was the exotically beautiful chief foreign correspondent for the Canadian

• 69 •

KIM BALDWIN

Broadcasting Company. The CBC had a reciprocal arrangement with WNC, so Iliana’s reports often aired on the shows that Megan edited.

But how? Iliana Theroux was based in Washington. And Rita had been in the capital a lot during the past year, fi lling in for vacationing reporters in the D.C. bureau. WNC was grooming her for big things, maybe a permanent gig as one of the White House press corps, and Rita had never been happier. She’s always been ambitious. She told me thaton our fi rst date. Megan’s stomach churned.

“They met when both were covering some State Department briefi ng,” Denise went on, her voice calmer. “The briefi ng kept getting delayed, so they had a couple of hours to get to know each other.

Apparently it was love at fi rst sight, or so they say.”

They say. Her stomach roiled in violent upheaval, and she felt the fi rst tears form.

“Iliana moved out last week. I knew they were seeing each other, but I thought it was a fl ing. It wasn’t the fi rst time.” Denise wept softly into the phone. “I knew she was never in love with me, but she always came home.” There was the muffl ed sound of her blowing her nose. “I had no idea how serious it was until she announced she was leaving.

She told me everything, then. She says they’re getting married in Amsterdam next month.”

Married. And legally married if they’re going to the Netherlands.

It had been a major story on WNC and the networks that week—it was going to be legal for same-sex couples to wed there in just a few days. Megan and Rita had made private vows on a beach at Lake Michigan, promising to love each other forever. Her head swam. It was unbelievable. Unthinkable. That Rita had been pretending to love her. How long has she been lying to me?

“Your girlfriend’s hired a lawyer,” Denise said wearily. “I overheard Iliana on the phone with her. They were talking about telling you, but it sounded like Rita wasn’t going to until she hired a lawyer.

Something about your house and bank account, I think.”

The house was in both their names. And Megan hadn’t checked the account balance at the bank in a long time. Rita paid all the bills out of their joint account, took care of all things fi nancial.

“Iliana at least was honest with me in the end and tried to make it easy on me.” Denise sounded desolate. “I saw the news tonight and realized they’re both in Paris at that summit. So I knew you’d be alone,

• 70 •

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14