Chapter Four
Four
“Are you covering the launch?”
Vivian glanced up. Graham Carlson stood over her desk in the newsroom, a cup of coffee in hand.
She shook her head in response to his question, her voice momentarily failing her.
“For you,” Graham said, holding the coffee out to her. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but I took a guess and went with black with a splash of milk, no sugar.”
Had she fallen asleep? Was she dreaming? That felt like the only explanation to account for Graham Carlson bringing her coffee.
He smiled. “You look like you could use it,” he added, not unkindly. “Long night?”
She wasn’t dreaming.
Vivian straightened in her seat, fighting the urge to run her fingers through her hair. No wonder he thought she needed coffee—she most definitely had fallen asleep at her desk, hardly surprising considering she’d spent the last twenty-four hours working on a story.
“Thank you,” Vivian murmured, her cheeks heating as she took the coffee mug from him.
She looked around the newsroom. It wasn’t the first time they’d spoken since Joe had introduced them at the bar a few weeks ago; Graham had been kind enough to give her a couple of opportunities to work on some of his stories.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder: Was anyone watching their interaction and wondering why one of the station’s most prominent on-air talents was bringing a lowly assistant coffee?
For the most part, their coworkers seemed preoccupied with preparing for today’s space launch.
This morning, Alan Shepard—one of the Mercury Seven, America’s first group of astronauts—was set to become the first American in space.
They’d attempted to send Shepard to space three days earlier, but bad weather had forced them to scrub the launch, a collective sigh of disappointment echoing around the world—well, besides the Soviets, who no doubt relished each setback in the Americans’ space ambitions.
Vivian had hoped she would get a chance to work in the newsroom considering it was the story that had the entire nation—and the world—riveted, but instead she’d found herself assigned to a murder at an apartment complex in Arlington.
It had her working for a full day straight, only catching a few hours of sleep on one of the couches they crashed on in the newsroom, the sleep deficit catching up to her so much that she was now falling asleep at her desk.
She took a sip of the coffee, the jolt of caffeine a much-needed boost to her system. “It was a long night.”
“The murder in Arlington?” Graham guessed, as though he had his finger on the various stories that pulsed through the newsroom.
Vivian nodded, taking another long sip of the coffee, suitably impressed that he’d managed to accurately guess her preference.
“I’m leaving the station soon,” he announced, his voice quiet, but still casual.
Surprise filled her. “I didn’t know.”
“Most people don’t. Jerry’s going to announce it to everyone soon,” he said, referring to the station’s president.
“I won’t say anything to anyone. Are you moving out of town, then?”
“I appreciate it.” He smiled. “I’ll still be in D.C., just going to a different network.”
He named one of their biggest rivals; it would certainly be a blow for the newsroom to lose him to a competitor.
A voice interrupted them. “Vivian—”
They both turned their heads as Kerry Krieger, one of the few female reporters who worked at the newsroom, walked toward them. She looked as tired as Vivian felt, the twenty-four hours that they’d spent working the murder together obviously taking its toll.
Kerry gave Graham a clipped nod in greeting, before turning her attention toward Vivian.
“You did great work today. The questions you wrote for me to ask the woman who discovered the body—they were good. It’s a delicate balance getting the facts and emotion out to our viewers, and you did a nice job with both.”
“Thank you,” Vivian replied, fighting—and succeeding—from keeping the giddiness that filled her at the uncharacteristic praise from one of the station’s most veteran reporters.
Kerry didn’t have the same level of celebrity as Graham, but she didn’t give the indication that she wanted it, either.
She kept her head down, her no-nonsense attitude drawing Vivian’s notice and admiration.
Kerry seemingly cared about the work more than the accolades it brought, and the fact that she thought Vivian had done a good job on the first story they worked on together meant everything.
Kerry didn’t wait for Vivian to say anything else before she was striding off, presumably in search of her next story.
One day I’m going to be like that, Vivian vowed to herself. One day.
“Would you like to get coffee sometime?”
Graham’s question tore her attention away from Kerry’s retreating back. He’d leaned in a bit closer to her since Kerry had walked away, the tone of his voice a bit lower than it had been when he told Vivian he was leaving the station.
Was he—
Was Graham Carlson asking her out for coffee as…a date?
It was unlikely. Impossible. And yet, by the look he was sending her—the interest there—combined with the fact that he was famously single, the consummate bachelor, well, it did indeed seem like he was asking her out.
Except she had never heard any whisper of him being involved with someone at work, and—
“After I leave the station,” Graham clarified.
He looked around for a moment, and then pulled back as though he realized the impression he might be giving the rest of the newsroom.
“I wouldn’t want to do anything to cause gossip.
I know how things can spread.” He inclined his head toward the direction Kerry had gone.
“It sounds like you’re doing great work.
I don’t want us going for coffee together to give people the wrong impression.
I know how hard it can be to be taken seriously in this industry, and I imagine for a young woman even more so. ”
Several things hit her all at once—
The way he said “young woman” cemented the fact that he was decades older than her—two decades, if she had to guess.
He was charismatic, the energy surrounding him so vibrant that the age difference didn’t jump out at her first, but it was also impossible to ignore.
And despite the respect and admiration she felt for him, the way she’d looked up to him for so long—perhaps because of it—Vivian had never once considered him in a romantic light, as someone she would think of dating.
He was practically a national treasure, an institution.
It would be like dating the Washington Monument.
But he stood there, his expression hopeful, expectant, and in a moment, her perception of him shifted, from the public persona to the man, and as far as men went, he was intelligent, polite, considerate, handsome.
They had a great deal in common considering their shared passion for journalism, and as far as reasons to agree to go on a date with someone, well—she could think of worse ones.
The date would have to wait until after he’d left the station, of course. The last thing Vivian wanted to do was to give the impression to someone like Kerry Krieger that she was trying to date her way into her career. So she surprised him, and perhaps even herself, when she replied quietly—
“I’d like that.”
—
“We’re having a space party,” Polly announced as Vivian walked into the apartment. A bottle of champagne dangled from Polly’s hands.
Vivian glanced over at the clock in the hallway, confusion filling her. It certainly had been an unusual morning what with Graham Carlson asking her on a date and now—
“It’s—it’s eight in the morning.”
Polly smiled. “I know it’s early for champagne, and I considered diluting it with orange juice, but then I thought ‘where’s the fun in that?’ If you can’t have champagne in the morning when the first American man launches himself into space, then when can you?”
Polly had certainly dressed with a space theme in mind. Her silver mod dress and matching go-go boots looked straight out of a sci-fi flick. On her head, she’d fashioned a matching silver headband with little foil protrusions no doubt meant to resemble stars.
Vivian grinned despite the exhaustion wearing her down. If anyone could carry off such an ensemble, it was Polly. She had the uncanny ability to take outfits that would seem utterly ridiculous on anyone else and make them look like she was walking off the pages of Vogue.
“A space party?” Vivian asked, setting her purse down on the little entry table she’d rescued after someone set it out on the curb. With a bit of love and care, she’d been able to turn it into a piece that looked good in their apartment and brightened up the space.
“We have space-themed food as well.”
“Space-themed food?”
“Nothing too fancy,” Polly replied. “I cut little tea sandwiches into the shape of rockets.” She frowned. “I’ll admit, they didn’t come out as well as I’d hoped. I’ve been working on them since seven.”
Polly must have seen the exhaustion on Vivian’s face, because she quickly added—
“I’m sorry. I know this is last-minute. I wasn’t planning on hosting, but then people started asking me what I was doing and if I wanted to watch the launch, and, well, it seemed like a fun idea for a bunch of us to watch it here.
“I should have talked to you about it, and I did try calling the station, but they said you were out on a story. I wasn’t sure if you would be back in time.
I thought we could have the apartment back to normal before you even noticed.
” Polly grinned. “But now that you’re home, you’ll join us, right?
Please. It’ll be so much more fun if you’re here. ”