Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Cece read through the list of questions one last time, pen tapping lightly against the legal pad as her eyes moved from top to bottom.
They were good questions. Nothing too over the top.
Nothing clever for the sake of being clever.
They were the kind that left room for someone to answer with as much or as little information as they wanted.
She’d crossed out two that felt redundant and rewrote one so it sounded less like an interview and more like a conversation.
Happy with what she’d settled on, she typed the final version into an email, attached the document, and added a short note.
Hi, Joe. Here’s a draft of the questions I’m thinking about. Nothing is set in stone, and we can always go where the conversation leads. Let me know your thoughts. I’m open to suggestions as well. Talk soon.
Cece
She hit Send and sat back in her chair. Peanut was snoozing in the guest chair, which seemed to be her spot when Cece was in the studio.
That was one more thing off her To Do list. She glanced at the clock. It was late afternoon edging toward early evening. She should think about dinner. There were leftovers she could reheat without much effort, and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t default to cereal just because it was easy.
Cereal was empty carbs and she was committed to eating better and getting as healthy as possible.
There were chicken breasts she could make, too. She could slice those and have them over a salad.
But she wasn’t that hungry yet and the house felt close after being inside for so much of the day. Maybe it was her imagination, but the air seemed a bit stale from hours of thinking and working and focusing so much.
What she really needed was to move. Breathe some salt air. Hear the sound of the waves as they rushed over the sand. Feel a little sun, what was left of it, on her face.
“Hold the fort down, Peanut.” Without any more thought, she changed her clothes, grabbed her phone, slipped it into her pocket, and headed out.
The beach seemed quieter and for that she was grateful.
Those who were out looked more purposeful than the sunbathing crowd.
No one was just laying around. There was a couple walking slowly, fingers intertwined.
A woman gently tossing a tennis ball for an aging dog.
A man with a metal detector and too much of a paunch to be Joe.
She smiled and took off her sandals, letting her feet sink into the sand as she walked. She stayed near the waterline where the sand stayed cool and damp. It felt good to be outside. This had been the right decision.
She inhaled deep, filling her lungs with fresh air and in her mind replacing all that stale inside air they were filled with. The waves washed over her feet.
Now and then, she glanced down as she passed a cluster of shells, just in case there was a good one. If she found one, she was going to give it to Joe.
She wasn’t ten minutes into her walk when her phone vibrated.
Cece shook her head but was already reaching for it. Probably Joe. Maybe he’d opened the email and had a comment or two. Or maybe he was inviting her over for dinner and then she wouldn’t have to decide what to make.
Wouldn’t that be nice? She pulled the phone out and looked at the screen.
Her smile faded. It was an email from none other than Darcy Lane.
Cece stepped away from the water and stood where she wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. So. Darcy had decided to respond.
Cece lifted her gaze to the horizon, then back to the screen. “Well,” she said quietly to no one at all. “There you are. At last.”
As she wondered what had taken Darcy so long, Cece took a breath and opened the email.
It was longer than she’d expected. Still polite. But definitely not neutral.
Hello Cece,
Thank you for reaching out. I’m familiar with your work for The Buzz, as well as your broader journalism background. You strike me as someone who understands how complicated the truth can be, and how much depends on the reliability of the people you trust.
I’d be open to sitting down for an interview. I’m generally available most weekday afternoons and early evenings, and I’m flexible about location.
Let me know what you have in mind.
Best,
Darcy
Cece snorted. So Darcy had done her homework, researching Cece online. There was no other way to explain what she’d implied between the lines.
That didn’t surprise Cece, but it confirmed something. Darcy wasn’t responding out of politeness or curiosity. She was responding deliberately. Choosing her words. Establishing that she knew who Cece was and how she worked.
That line about how complicated the truth could be hadn’t been casual.
It wasn’t a compliment, exactly, but it wasn’t neutral.
It was Darcy showing off. Telling Cece she knew more than the average person probably did about her.
Again, pointing to Darcy digging into Cece’s past. There was no other way to explain how she knew enough to reference a moment Cece rarely talked about and never put in writing.
Cece’s chest tightened in a familiar way. Not quite panic. She was past that. But it was uncomfortable all the same.
That story had followed her for years. The one where she’d trusted the wrong source and paid for it publicly. Where her award had been rescinded and her employment terminated. People remembered the headline version of it even if they didn’t remember the details.
The headline version was easy enough to find. Darcy had proven that. But why? Did she think bringing up Cece’s past would give her the upper hand in the interview?
Maybe. But Cece had developed a much thicker skin since then. If Darcy thought this was some kind of threat, she was wrong.
But that wasn’t exactly what it felt like. This was something else. More like a way of saying, “I see you. I know where your cracks are. Where your weak spots are.”
And maybe that would have been true a few years ago, but Cece didn’t have cracks anymore. She’d been through too much. And now? Nothing could compete with facing cancer again.
No, if Darcy thought she was coming to this interview with a quiver full of arrows, Cece was going to give her an impenetrable target.
Cece slid the phone back into her pocket and started walking again, moving toward the waves so they could wash over her feet. She let her thoughts run wild the way they always did when a story began to take shape.
Darcy wanted this interview. Maybe because she wanted the exposure, but there was no doubt in Cece’s mind that Darcy believed she could control it. Or at least steer it.
That was fine.
Cece knew how to let people talk themselves into revealing more than they meant to.
She never pushed a subject unless she thought they’d allow it.
Instead, she asked insightful questions and let the person talk without interruption.
People liked to fill silences and Cece paid attention to what they said when that happened.
It would be even easier to do that with a woman like Darcy. A woman who thought she was really something. Who liked to hear herself talk.
Cece reached a good stopping point and turned back, already composing her reply in her head. It would be calm and professional. Friendly, even. It would bear no hint that Darcy’s subtle jab had been interpreted as such.
Even though it had.
And now Cece was very interested to see what Darcy Lane would say when the conversation began. The funny thing was, Cece was pretty sure that Darcy was assuming past experiences had made Cece cautious.
What it had actually done was make her very, very good at listening.
And all right, maybe it had made her a little cautious, but Cece had learned the value of discussing things with someone who wasn’t in the middle of the situation. Someone who could give solid advice.
Legal advice, if necessary.
By the time she reached the path that led back toward her house, she’d already decided who that someone was. As if that took a lot of thought.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped Joe’s name, slowing her pace as it rang.
“Hey, there,” he said, answering quickly. She could tell he was smiling and that made her smile, despite what was on her mind. “I was just thinking about you. What’s up?”
“I just got a response from Darcy,” Cece said. “The woman I told you about. She agreed to the interview.”
“I’d say that was good,” he said. “But you don’t sound especially thrilled.”
“I’m not not thrilled,” Cece said. “But the email was…interesting. She did her homework. On me.”
Joe went quiet for a second. “Even though I think I know the answer to this, in what way?”
“In a way that makes me want someone else’s input on this before I reply,” Cece said.
She turned onto her street, her house coming into view at the end of the block.
She stuck her sandals back on. “Any chance you could come by for a bit? I’d like to talk it through.
I can offer you dinner if you’re all right with salad and chicken. ”
“Sure,” he said without hesitation. “I can be there in twenty. Salad and chicken sounds great.”
Relief moved through her. It was such a gift to have a man like him so readily available. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Joe said. “Do you want me to bring anything? I made a low-carb pound cake today. You want to try it for dessert?”
“I’m game,” she said. “I’ve got coffee, too. It’s the least I can do since I’m the one asking for help.”
He laughed softly. “You know I’m always here for you.”
“I know and I appreciate it so much,” Cece said. After they ended the call, she slipped the phone back into her pocket. Her steps were lighter as she finished the walk home.
Whatever game Darcy Lane thought she was playing, there was a curve ball coming her way.