Deadly Blessings by Julie Hyzy Page B

it.”
    He gave a self-effacing shrug. “I wanted a
feature column, worked hard to get one, and did lots of writing
with no byline because my boss at the time promised that my
cooperation and team spirit would pay dividends down the road.”
    “ But …”
    “ Yes. But.” He raised his
eyebrows in a helpless gesture.
    William Armstrong was anything but helpless.
I’d gotten the lowdown on him over the past couple of days. From
everything I gathered, he was a respected and valued team player.
No shortage of glowing reviews there. There was however, one small
glitch.
    No one would tell me why he left the
newspaper. Like it was some big secret. Or maybe, no one knew.
    I’m nothing if not direct. “But,” I
repeated. “You left. How come?”
    The breath he expelled as he leaned
backward, told me this was a difficult subject. “It’s a long
story.”
    I opened my hands. “I’m a good
listener.”
    “ Some other time, perhaps.”
His blue eyes seemed to intensify, almost as though he was gauging
my trustworthiness.
    “ Okay, then. Whenever
you’re ready.”
    “ Thank you,” he said with a
nod. And then, he smiled.
    When he did, his entire
face transformed. Tiny crinkles near his eyes and around his mouth
deepened. I could tell these were lines that got lots of use; it
just so happened that I was seeing them for the first time. I felt
my stomach flip-flop as my face began to warm. Yowza. I’d better
hope he didn’t smile at me too often or I’d never get anything
done.
    “ About
this hair story,” he said, his eyes traveling down to the manila
folder on his lap. “I thought maybe you could bring me up to speed?
Give me an idea of what else is coming? I have some information. Not a
lot.”
    I wondered that he had any at all. I hadn’t
done my homework on Wilda Lassiter’s interview, yet. “What do you
have?”
    “ Let’s see.” He dug out a
sheet of paper, and placed it at the edge of my desk. “Ah, yes …
Ms. Tammy Larken.”
    “ Tammy Larken?”
    “ The name rings a bell with
you?”
    I couldn’t tell if he was making a joke, or
slamming me. His face was back to being devoid of expression, so I
decided to tread with caution. “How do you know her?”
    “ She came to visit me
yesterday—around noon. Apparently she made a trip down to the
studio to see Gabriela, based on your suggestion.” I cringed; I
could tell this anecdote wasn’t going to have a happy ending. “What
you didn’t know when you sent her, was that Gabriela had
rescheduled the shoot. Nobody there but a couple of
techs.”
    “ Ouch.”
    “ Yeah. Ouch.”
    William let the words sink in. I
half-dreaded what he might say next, but I had to know.
    “ She came back to see you?”
I asked, a gentle prod.
    “ Actually, she came to see you . But you were long gone by then,
so the staff directed her to me.”
    “ I’m so sorry.”
    “ Don’t be. Once she calmed
down, she really was a good interview. Had a terrible experience
and is quite … animated … when she speaks.”
    “ I’ll
bet. I really am sorry. She was just so—”
    “ Incorrigible?”
    “ Pretty much.”
    “ And is that how you
usually treat incorrigible guests?”
    I was certain his lips twitched that time.
It was a gentle rebuke, one I deserved. “No,” I said, genuinely
sorry now. “That was unprofessional of me. It’s just—” I stopped
myself.
    The truth was I’d been frustrated with my
failure to find my adoption records, with losing the Milla story to
creepy little Fenton, with bad hair issues, with Dan, and with
knowing I still had to disappoint my sister. It all weighed heavily
on my mind, but William didn’t need to hear the history of my sorry
life. I wasn’t making a very good impression on this fellow and yet
a niggling feeling in the back of my brain was telling me I ought
to try and remedy that. “Just a bad day,” I finished. Wow, that
sounded lame. Bet I impressed him.
    He gave a short nod, as though in
absolution.
    “ So …