A Daughter's a Daughter Read online

  She shifted in her seat. She could feel the heat of his body next to her. They were physically closer than they had been in months except for three nights ago at the café when he had crowded her into the corner. At no other time had they been this near to touching beyond the formal handshake that had almost slain her three months ago when she’d been hired.

  Their bodies were within mere inches, from head to toe, for the first time in a year. They had always maintained a careful distance of several feet between them at production meetings, and of course her spot on the panel was separate by a couple of feet, for the camera’s convenience. Not today.

  She could save herself a lot of angst if she simply turned in his direction right now and put the moves on him. Then they’d miss their broadcast for sure. They might even be thrown off the train, because if she started something, she wasn’t sure if she could stop. No, it was better to build up the anticipation. Let him suffer as long as possible. She shifted again in the seat, trying to dispel some of her sexual frustration. Who was suffering here?

  Jason spoke quietly, so he wouldn’t be overheard by the other Amtrak passengers. “If you don’t stop squirming, I’m going to march you into the bathroom and we can renew our acquaintance there.”

  That brought her head up in wonder. Jason’s desire was plain on his face. He nodded, acknowledging the pulse between them. “First we work, then we play.”

  Linley raised an eyebrow. Jason thought he’d made the winning move. He thought he was in charge, that being on assignment away from their normal work restraints would annihilate her resistance to a hookup. He didn’t know how strong she was, but he’d soon find out.

  His self-assurance should have angered her. Instead, she felt half relieved. She was tired of fighting herself, tired of guessing at Jason’s intentions.

  Only half relieved.

  “I’m not going to make it easy for you,” she vowed in an equally discreet whisper. “You have a lot of explaining to do. I’m not planning on doing any drinking tonight. You’ll need a super sales job to convince me.”

  She smiled, the kind of smile that should have daunted him. Instead, Jason looked eager to fight for the privilege of going to bed with her again.

  “I’ve been ready for three months,” he said. He smiled, too. His self-assurance shook her, yet excited her even more.

  The rest of the ride, they did not speak. It had all been said.

  #

  After the tense moments on the train, Linley and Jason shifted to professional mode, and neither even blinked inappropriately. Their show went smoothly. Later, they met in the hotel lobby for the press club dinner. Jason was in a tux, and he looked fabulous. He could be a movie star. He simply had the regular features and broad shoulders that looked best in formal menswear. As for Linley, she was wearing a short red cocktail dress that showed off her long, slender legs. The sleekly muscled arms and shoulders of the modern woman who works out were apparent in the strapless, sleeveless design of the dress. In case Linley’s youth and beauty weren’t emphasized enough, the bodice was boned and pushed her breasts up and held them firmly. Good thing she didn’t feel cold easily because this dress didn’t cover much. Yet it wasn’t outrageous, either. She carried a light wrap, but it was for show, not to wear. While she had the assets of youth and a good body she intended to use them. She attracted male attention in red, the color research had shown men now approved of the most. Today’s statistics said men liked a woman empowered in red. She used her power.

  Jason eyed her appreciatively, then took her arm to lead her to the cab rank. “You look sensational. I’ll be fighting them off.”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “We need to act like professionals tonight, remember. There are some important people at this reception.”

  “You have no sense of humor, do you? I was trying to pay you a compliment.”

  “I take my career seriously,” she said. She shivered at the image of him pushing aside the men who would crowd around her tonight and boldly declaring she belonged to him. She could not allow that to happen.

  The press club was in a little old building on its very own block in the city. It actually had gardens around it and an iron fence. How quaint. Jason helped her out of the cab and they entered the gate and presented their invitations. Inside, the place had the air of an old, old club, with a hint of it being ready to collapse.

  As they made their way into the party rooms, a strange thing happened. Men did not gravitate to Linley. They surrounded several different middle-aged women.

  “That’s Cokie Roberts,” Jason whispered, seeing her discreetly eyeing a well-preserved lady who wouldn't see sixty again. “And there’s Lesley Stahl.” She looked even older.

  They strolled around, and again there was a much older woman holding forth, surrounded by interested, even admiring men.

  “I recognize Andrea Mitchell,” she said. “She’s married to Allen Greenspan, the retired Fed chairman.”

  “She had a longtime career as a news reporter before they tied the knot, and she’s still in the game. That’s why she’s a big deal in this crowd,” he reminded her. He pointed to another, somewhat younger woman, tastefully but very conservatively garbed in a business suit. “Gwen Ifill. Have you seen her on Meet the Press or Washington Week in Review?”

  Linley shook her head. Oops.

  Jason got them drinks and then they separated as they each started talking to some of the media people they already knew. The evening continued to be surreal for Linley. Despite her red dress, and her youth and beauty, she never became the center of a group of men vying for her attention. In fact, when she did offer a comment, the men shied away.

  The other women were dressed in a frankly dowdy manner. A really old woman in her sixties shouldn’t show lots of skin, of course. But the young women, the local anchors, were all in very conservative garb, too. Finally, Linley started talking with a girl her age who looked bored enough to be approachable. One who wasn’t totally dressed like a maiden aunt.

  Linley introduced herself, then asked, “What’s with the women here? Is there some Washington dress code? As in, dress badly?”

  The other girl, Beth, choked on her laughter. “Never been to DC before?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “This is the one city in the U.S. where brains and power are considered more glamorous than looks or money. Women dress not to make waves.”

  “You mean like the First Lady or a Senator’s wife?”

  “All of us. It’s a formal kind of town, what with all the foreign dignitaries and consulates and embassies,” Beth said. “Plus, this club is famous for insisting on old-fashioned formal wear.” She nodded in the direction of the others. “Look at all the men in tuxes.”

  Linley glanced down at her red dress, her favorite. “When I put this on tonight, I thought of it as acceptable,” she said.

  Beth eyed it consideringly. “There are other Washington parties where it wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. Not this one. Anyway, being young and hot doesn’t mean much in DC. Contacts and experience count here. That’s why the guys hang around the older women.” She sipped at her drink.

  “I’ll remember for next time,” Linley said. They talked for a while about their jobs. Beth hadn’t heard of Linley, which was disappointing. Linley didn’t know much about Washington, DC, television. A mistake. She should know more about the field in which she hoped to rise. About print journalism, too, even though it was dying because of the Internet and she personally didn’t want to be involved with print. It was sobering to discover that she had a blind spot in her knowledge of her profession.

  She kept circulating, trying to talk to more partiers, but this go round she was careful only to approach groups with women in them, so she wouldn’t be perceived as some bimbo. Her pleasure in the evening had fled once she’d understood she was dressed completely wrong. She was unlikely to find any good career lifts in this situation. Retrieving her evening wrap from the coat check would l
ook odd in such a hot, crowded room.

  Finally, she found Jason, surrounded by a group of youngish men. They were all laughing. She sauntered closer, and Jason drew her into the circle, but did not touch her or make his move seem proprietary. They were still being professional, thank goodness.

  “Lin, we’re talking about that CEO we had on the show yesterday, the commodities guy.”

  She picked up on his lead and played her part smoothly. She was careful not to act flirtatious in the slightest. The men at first eyed her oddly and tended to ignore her. All because of the damn red dress.

  After what seemed like years, her torture was finally over. Linley was silent as they returned to their hotel in a cab. Jason crowed about finding several influential and well-connected Washington insiders who were eager to be on the show. “A good night,” he concluded.

  “It was horrible,” she said, practically shuddering.

  “What?” He sounded confused.

  “Didn’t you see what a fool I made of myself in this awful rag? It’s a designer model, but no one at the party cared. Doris Kearns Godwin was wearing a day dress she’d merely thrown a silk scarf across. Plus a string of pearls. Pearls! Me, I’m dressed in hooker red, ready to perform a lap dance.”

  “You look like a lady to me,” he said, casting an admiring glance at her heaving bosom in the revealing dress. Right. That kind of male admiration she could do without. She’d been so caught up in the lust drama with Jason, she hadn’t done basic research about the trip. She’d skipped the briefing sessions to stay away from him. This was all his fault.

  “Why didn’t you warn me Washington could be like this?” She turned on him.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re the one who planned the trip. You should have prepped me for the peculiarity of that press club’s dress code.” She didn’t even try to keep her voice from rising. “The men all thought I was a bimbo.”

  “If you’d come to the briefing sessions, you could have asked.”

  “How the hell was I supposed to know? You’ve been around, Jason. You knew. You set me up.”

  By now, she was nearly ready to shriek at him. “I’ve never been so humiliated.”

  When they arrived at the hotel, she tore out of the cab, stalking angrily ahead as Jason paid. He caught up to her at the elevator. “Lin—“

  She rounded on him.

  “Don’t say another word.” She practically hissed at him. “I’m going to my room. Alone.”

  “You can’t be serious—”

  Her voice rose. “You’re damn right I’m serious.” She jabbed the elevator button fiercely. “You ruined my evening. You let me look like a hooker at a classy party. No, we won’t be having sex tonight, is that clear enough for you?” She was screaming.

  Jason’s expression, which a few seconds ago had been confused, hardened into a poker player’s careful lack of expression.

  She pushed by him into the elevator, anger in every movement. “Now get out of my way!”

  As the doors closed, she kept muttering, “Damn you! It’s all your fault.”

  Chapter 12

  Pam dressed in her best and went into the city for the job interview at a Wall Street firm, but it was a disaster. The hiring manager was a young know-it-all who nevertheless acted clueless about dealing with an older person as a potential hire. Because of his youthful insecurities, she wouldn’t get this job. Probably the young person he’d end up hiring would not have the patience older people did for the mind-numbing work involved, but there was no polite or appropriate way to warn him of his error in the making. Instead, convention dictated she must go through the motions of listening to him attentively and thanking him for his time, knowing all the while he would not hire her. She recounted the tale to Sarah when they met later, ending with, “What a frustrating waste.”

  “At least you had your brain switched on,” Sarah pointed out. “You analyzed the situation and decanted its essence.”

  They were lunching at an upscale Chinese restaurant. Sarah was wearing a dashing three-piece pinstripe pantsuit. The third piece was a vest that outlined her shapely figure. She looked nearly thirty years younger than her real age. Pam was more conservatively clothed in a skirted grey suit with a white silk blouse and gold earrings. Standard interview uniform, but perhaps old-fashioned for today’s world, and revealing her age too clearly.

  “You’re right. There will be another job,” Pam said.

  “That’s the spirit. Anyway, you weren’t interviewing for a senior enough position. One that a senior should be hired for. Get it? A senior?” Sarah grinned, pleased with her awful pun.

  Pam dutifully chuckled. “Let’s talk about something else.” She’d had enough of feeling frustrated for one day.

  “Sure,” Sarah shrugged. “You never told me. Did your TV show appearance with Linley break the ice between you?”

  Sarah must have seen how her face fell, for her expression softened into open sympathy. “No, huh?”

  Pam shook her head, fighting stupid tears. “I’m not giving up. She can’t see yet that our family tie is important. Eventually, she’ll realize.”

  “You hope,” Sarah muttered, taking a quick sip of water, obviously to stifle her angry reaction.

  “I have to believe it’ll get better. I have to.” She hoped she didn’t sound desperate and weak.

  “I’m sorry I asked. I also apologize for dragging you all the way into the city for a bad job interview. Are you still working on how to help your friend, Magda?”

  Pam stifled a small giggle. “Last week, I was feeling negative about that, too, if you recall.”

  Chagrinned, Sarah mimed banging her head with the palm of her hand.

  “Am I zero for three? Should I go home and eat worms?”

  With a hint of the cat in the cream, Pam announced, “I am launching a nonprofit foundation.”

  “What?”

  “My mother talked me into it.”

  Sarah looked shocked. “What do you know about running a charity?”

  “Not a whole lot.” She paused to take a sip of her iced tea. “If anyone can teach me, it’s my mother.”

  “That’s true enough,” Sarah muttered, “I’m finding your sudden switch into rampant social activism hard to believe, though. You’re serious?”

  “Yes, even though she scared me at first.” Pam grimaced. “My mother is so publicity-oriented. She pushed that angle.”

  “Whereupon you, the one who likes to sit in the corner unnoticed, ran away screaming,” Sarah nodded.

  “You don’t know how close to the literal truth that is.” She sighed, still ashamed of her flight down the beach to escape her mother’s advice. “Anyway, even though I’m not thrilled about having to be the PR person for the nonprofit, I’m the logical choice until it becomes big enough to hire one.”

  “In this economic climate, what makes you think you can shake loose charitable giving?”

  “It’s always a good time for some people, even when it’s a bad time for others,” she replied. “What about all those stockbrokers and other traders who walked away from the Wall Street mess with millions in bonuses and commissions?”

  “They spent it all on Lamborghinis and gated estates.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or on cocaine and call girls.”

  Pam shrugged. “I only need to find a few traders or executives who didn’t.” She gained volume and enthusiasm as she continued. “Then there are the corporations themselves. They’re all in a guilty position because they’ve laid off thousands of workers. If I can leverage that guilt, I can get substantial contributions they can deduct off their corporate taxes.”

  Sarah nodded slowly. “That approach could pay off. Your idea or your mom’s?”

  “Mine,” she said with justifiable pride.

  “You’ve thought this through.”

  “I have. I’ve already gone ahead and hired a website designer. I’m meeting him later today to plan it, although I have to wait
until the incorporation papers are filed before I can start the site.”

  “So I shouldn’t line up any job interviews for you next week?” Sarah’s inquiry was only half humorous.

  “Tomorrow, I’m driving out to Long Island again to meet with my mother’s attorney and draw up the papers.”

  “You’re moving fast,” Sarah said, approval in her voice. “Let me know how I can help.”

  “Thanks for offering. I may need your contacts to get me in to see certain highly guarded people.”

  “How about going back on television to give it a push? Shows like to do follow ups on human interest stories.”

  “True,” Pam said, struck. “Linley could probably broker it.”

  “Even if she can’t, she’d love the opportunity to try. That girl is a go-getter.” It was the closest Sarah had come to a compliment about Linley in years. Pam’s heart swelled. Perhaps Sarah was beginning to see Linley’s admirable qualities.

  Not once during their lunch had Sarah urged her to get a life, or to date. Probably because she was finally doing both, although she hadn’t told Sarah about Bruce yet. How ironic.

  Three hours later, her head was spinning with all the possibilities before her, but she had taken the plunge. The basic website would start operating immediately, complete with a click through to a secure donation site. A fancier design would debut next week. Depending on the traffic her publicity efforts generated, she could access more powerful servers and even more complex design.

  She had written an earnest money check to the designer, with more to come on delivery. She had paid the web hosting company for a year in advance.

  The foundation could afford to be in the red for a while. The nonprofit might be able to pay her a small salary by the time her unemployment benefits ran out. For now she could fulfill the letter of the law and look for a new job, and at the same time hit up every possible employer as a potential donor, too. There was no reason a human resources employee couldn’t be coaxed to help garner donations.