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  "Mary," Mark stepped forward. "I can't tell you how honored I am to have met you." And knew inherently that the only chance of an exclusive interview with this woman would have to come from Casey and on Casey's terms. He also knew the moment he opened his mouth he could very possibly kill the deal. He wisely kept silent.

  Mary took the hand he held out. "Likewise." She responded with a smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth as if she could read every thought in his head.

  He held on to her hand gently. "I hope you'll reconsider and give our network another shot."

  Mary studied him. He meant it. And she could hear the sincerity in his voice. Because of that she went beyond her normal pat answer. "In the event Casey talks me into a cable connection I may well do that. I hope in the time it takes for her to do so that you'll take her words to heart and take the time to listen to your network as well."

  He nodded then gave Casey the quick hug he knew she didn't expect. "Give Terry a call," he added. Then he stood paused at the doorway. "I need those cakes." Minutes later he was heading out to the rental car with cakes in hand. Sitting behind the wheel he considered whether he wanted to head into the store on the corner and find out if the cakes could be shipped on a regular basis. Easing the car up, he was on the verge of parking and doing just that when the clear view of a familiar face through the store window stopped him. He knew faces and in this case he put a name to the one in the window pretty quickly. His first thought was what in the world was she doing here? His next one was the memory of how quickly Mary had offered to obtain the cakes for him and only after doing so had she provided him with the information of where to get them himself in the future. Uncharacteristically uncertain what to do next he drove around the block to give himself time, taking in the small and quaint neighborhood one of his best reporters and anchors had retreated to. It also gave him time to consider his options. Grace Delaney had all but disappeared a couple of years ago. There had been lots of speculation, lots of worries she was working on a tell-all book, but all for naught because she had stayed gone and nothing had come of it. He wondered at the coincidence. She was literally located within a block of Casey. Intentional or coincidence, he wondered. Wondered too if it meant anything.

  He came up along the store again. Studied her profile through the glass window as he sat in his idling car at the stop sign on the corner and thoughtfully considered the similarities between the two women. He remembered some of the talk at the time Grace had disappeared. He'd blown it off then but wondered now if he should have paid more attention. He also thought about the Casey he had just left, a completely different person from the woman who had taken off from her job weeks ago. He studied the woman through the glass talking with another woman, a smile on her face, an ease about her that hadn't been there three years ago.

  Sighing, he took the turn that would take him back to the hotel. He knew one thing. He wanted to get home. And the reporter in him simply didn't have the drive to disrupt someone's life which was exactly what he would be doing. He could order the cakes by phone if she was willing to ship them. If not, Casey could just send him some. Pin money. He shook his head slowly, the laugh slowly making its way forth. He couldn't think of anyone less likely in need of pin money.

  

  Mary leaned back against the door she had just closed behind their visitor but not before she carefully peered out the crack she'd left open to see if he stopped at the corner. Despite knowing that Grace could well handle herself and him, she sighed with no little sense of relief when he paused only briefly then turned and drove away.

  She eyed her cousin who was bent over the dining room table filled with the many treasured family possessions they had carefully removed from the trunk that they now referred to as the 'Hope Chest." It may very well have been the beloved Hope Chest of a long ago ancestor, she thought. But it was also an important piece of family history for both of them. One who's value went far beyond age or monetary gain.

  "It sounds like you've been busy," she paused. Mostly to give herself time to move into a position where she could see Casey's face. "How's Pete doing these days?" Not as much of a reaction as she would have liked but enough to guess that the time spent over at Pete's was motivated by more than joint research efforts.

  "He's doing okay, I guess."

  "He's a nice guy, great family. I don't blame you for enjoying his company."

  Casey straightened up. She'd have to be deaf or dead not to hear the inference in Mary's tone, subtle that it was. "There's nothing more than friendship there, Mary." She ran her hand through her hair, telling herself the same thing. "Please. He's younger than I am."

  Mary just shook her head and stared at her cousin, reflecting her thoughts on the issue by her silence and expression alone. Instead she addressed the other side of it. "Don't you think you should allow Pete to have his input on that?"

  "I don't know." Casey turned for the kitchen. Refusing to consider it as the escape it was. "Maybe." She poured a cup of the coffee Mary always kept fresh. "I don't know how I feel about it, how I think about it, so I'm certain I don't want to discuss it with him." She poured in creamer, far more than she normally did. "Not yet."

  Mary watched her movements and decided enough had been said on this issue for the moment. She also decided she might pay Pete a visit in the coming week or so. It wouldn't hurt to know where he was before she pushed it any further with Casey. "So," she decided to turn the tables and the topic. "What story ideas do you have brewing that you didn't want to discuss with Mark yet?" She sat down, motioned for Casey to do the same. "Besides the one on yours truly."

  Grateful for the change in subject, Casey launched into the possibilities she'd been batting around in her head. "The one on the Video Production program at the high school would be the perfect one to kick off with." She tapped her fingers against the table top, thinking. "I was thinking about something on small town life and how it mirrors the big city, just on a smaller scale."

  "Maybe with the tone of how everybody knows everybody feel to it, the good and the bad aspects of that, maybe even a little bit of a comic touch to it," Mary suggested, thinking out loud.

  "Yeah." She hadn't thought about it along those lines but liked the idea. "Then I was going to talk to Grace, feel her out about telling her story, just from the aspect of starting over by returning to her family's past. Restoring her Grandfather's store, making something out of what stood strong in the past and stands strong again today."

  Mary quipped smiling, "You should consider writing a book, you have a way with words."

  "Please, I don't have the patience."

  Mary let it go, Casey wasn't going to do anything she didn't feel strong enough about. She understood that. "Grace may consider it, especially with the focus on her grandfather. She feels strongly about the family ties in what she's done with the place. Especially with her grandfather." Mary leaned back. "Anything else?"

  "Not really, a couple of possibilities but nothing that I have a real feel for yet."

  "With those three and me, that's four stories and that may be enough for Mark." Mary wondered if it was going to be enough for Casey. Once hooked into the idea, she had been more enthusiastic than she would have thought for someone who didn't ever want to go back to that life again. What Casey was doing, though she wasn't certain she'd figured it out yet, was to tell stories face to face, similar to her own stories in the written word. She watched Casey shrug, as if it was no big deal. Mary wondered if it was a whole lot more of a big deal than her cousin was letting on.

  

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It wasn't unusual that Mary glanced out her front window the next morning as she walked through her living room. Her intent for the day was to finish up her work in the kitchen since it was becoming the most utilized and more often than not the most occupied room in the house. It was also the easiest to move around in since just about every other room was filled wall-to-wall with the contents of the attic.

&
nbsp; What she saw out her front window or thought she saw had her backing up and taking a closer look. Still uncertain, she went out on the porch then sat down on her swing and positioned herself in such a way so she could look down the street that ran into hers but at the same time not necessarily wanting to look like she was being neighborly nosy.

  Staring hard, squinting her eyes to better focus in on the subject of her interest, she could see the sign. She just couldn't see what was on the sign. Standing out alone as it was, with no other signs popping up in any other yards from what she could tell as she gazed around at the other houses within her view, she would bet the one thing it wasn't was a campaign sign. But, she thought, people put up signs for all kinds of things these days. Advertising a business they had used and were happy with, advertising their own business, and for all she knew it announced they were holding a garage sale.

  But there was another possibility and with that in mind she went back inside and straight to her phone. There was one person who would know and if he didn't this early in the morning she felt certain he could find out easily enough. She flipped through the phone book and once she located what she was looking for, dialed the number. In the back of her mind she identified the running water she heard start up as Casey hopping into the shower. The timing was a good thing because she didn't want to explain her thoughts until they were clear in her own mind.

  "Pete?" She heard the clatter of young voices in the background. "This is Mary. I'm so sorry for calling so early, do you need me to call back later?"

  "No. This is just the normal fanfare for getting the kids off to the last place on earth they want to go. What's up?"

  "Could you find out if there's a new listing on Woodhaven, just a couple of houses down from me? I don't know the number but I'd be interested in knowing if it's for sale and for how much."

  There was a pause on the other side of the line. Mary waited. She had gotten to know Pete well enough to know that he could be doing a number of things including looking up the information on his ever present pocket computer, her term for the device that no one seemed to be able to function without these days.

  "There sure is. It just went on the market yesterday," he chuckled as he answered her. "Are you collecting houses, Mary?"

  Sighing, Mary decided his comment would be right in line with her husband's and a whole lot less than what Casey would have to say. "Maybe." She thought about it for a minute. "Is it listed at a reasonable price?" She trusted Pete and at the root of it, money wasn't an issue.

  "It's right in the ballpark for that area but it depends on its condition. Do you want to look at it?" When she didn't respond right away he went on. "I can look at it first if you would rather and I can let you know what I find out."

  She sighed, grateful he wasn't asking a lot of questions that she knew she wouldn't have the answers for. Not yet. "That sounds good." She thought about her plans for the day, most of which could be easily rearranged. "If you're free for lunch we could talk about what you find out then." She could also tackle the other issue she wanted to take up with him she thought belatedly. And not for the first time she believed things were put in your lap for a reason. She waited as she heard the noise of papers being moved and imagined he was looking at his schedule for the day.

  "That sounds good. It gives me time to run over there and check out the place." He nudged his oldest towards the door with her lunchbox. "Um, I take it you'll be alone."

  "You take it right." And wasn't that interesting she thought. "For the moment I'd like to keep this between us."

  Pete laughed quietly. "Not certain you want to explain your new hobby, Mary?"

  "Something like that." Mary agreed wishing she wasn't quite so transparent. "I'll see you then." She hung up the phone thoughtfully. What were the odds, she wondered, that all these specific houses would be for sale in such a short span of time. She was still thinking about it when Casey walked in oblivious to her thoughts and plans for the day but ready for breakfast.

  

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A couple thousand miles away two other people were sitting down across the table from each other. Mark had decided at the last minute to go in late that morning to give him some time with the kids who had just grudgingly stomped out the door for school. He also wanted to spend some one-on-one time with his wife.

  He patiently answered her myriad of questions about Casey. While the two had rarely seen each other in the last couple of years, they had been almost inseparable during college and the years following as both started out their careers in journalism. Finally Mark asked one of his own.

  "Do you think that the news is covered fairly by the network?" He immediately realized the scope of the question and narrowed it down before she could respond one way or another. "Not just fairly, but in a broader sense, do we cover all of it adequately from all sides?"

  Terry took a sip of her tea and studied her husband. They had long ago agreed to avoid discussions of this sort. Because she was no longer in a position to have any influence professionally, Thank God, she had no problem expressing her opinions. At the same time it was no longer a topic that drove her as it once did. "Did Casey say something that has you questioning it?"

  "No," he could answer honestly since it was actually Mary who had set him to seriously thinking about it. "There were a number of things that were discussed when we talked about the stories she's going to do that got me thinking." He paused, knew she would get great personal pleasure on a number of levels from what he was about to admit. "And Casey simply looked better. Not just outwardly, though she looked a lot more..." he searched for the right word. "Settled, I guess. More than that she looked happy...she was happy." He turned his coffee cup around for something to do with his hands. "Happier and more at ease with herself than I've seen her in a long time."

  Terry knew he was waiting for the I told you so but decided to withhold that in favor of answering his question. "I think sometimes some members of the crew ..." she shook her head and opted for absolute honesty since he'd asked, "most of the crew can tend to focus on the most obvious aspects of what they're reporting. There's a tendency to hone in on the more glaring pieces of the story since those most likely tend to be what stands out...what's most obvious...and easier." She watched his face, saw the studious look he got when he was digesting something that didn't particularly appeal. "It's normal to a large degree," she allowed.

  "I don't want the network to be just normal," he shot back. He wasn't angry at his wife but angry to have his own concerns seen by someone else before he did.

  "Part of it comes from the atmosphere, honey," she broached the subject, looking for a way to delve into this sensitive area without getting personally scathed. "Overall you've got seasoned folks who are really, really good at what they do. They have a style they've worked on and gotten good at...that they're comfortable with. Most of the time the audience, the people who are watching do so because they like what they see and sometimes who they see. It helps if they come across as someone folks in the audience wouldn't mind having at their kitchen table sharing coffee or tea with as they discuss the news of the day."

  Mark looked at his wife. He knew she was trying to tell him something he wasn't going to like hearing. "But some of them may not turn out to be someone you'd want at your kitchen table once you got them there and saw the real thing. Is that what you're trying to get around to." It was a statement, not a question, and when he saw the sheepish smile emerge he knew he had another answer he didn't like. "Who?" Not even bothering to hide the demand in his voice.

  "No." She picked up her cup and took it to the sink. "That's the part you need to find out for yourself." She could almost hear his mind working, trying to figure out how to get her to divulge further. "It won't matter, Honey unless it comes from you. Unless you see it for yourself. You know as well as I do that there are times you have to see or hear it for yourself or it won't mean anything. This is one of those times." She sat down again and took
his hands in hers. She knew it weighed on him on numerous levels including personally. "Watch your news. Close your office door and watch your News. Watch all of them and watch them for several days and," she added seriously. "Don't just watch, listen. Close your eyes and just listen."

  "And I'll hear it?"

  Terry sighed. She knew when he did it wouldn't be an easy thing. "If you let yourself."

  

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Mary slid into the opposite side of the booth across from where Pete was looking over a stack of papers while waiting for her. She could tell from the look on his face that the news might not be great but neither was it so bad she couldn't handle it.

  "So," he began, his fingers steepled in front of him on the restaurant's old fashioned marble top table. "Who did this particular residence belong to?"

  Mary laughed quietly. She knew him well enough to know he was only partially teasing. There was also a part of him that was seriously interested in why she might want to buy this particular house.

  "My Aunt Charlie." She paused as both she and Pete gave their orders to the waitress. "She's one of my mother's sisters." And wondered what her aunt would think about this. "So, what do you think?"

  Pete pulled another folder out of his briefcase, slipped a couple of the papers across the table in her direction. He didn't need his copy. He knew houses and would be able to tell her everything she needed to know from memory. But he kept the papers out in front of him, for form and because he was always...if nothing else...scrupulous about accuracy.

  "Overall it's in good shape. There are some aesthetic improvements that could certainly be made but structurally it's in pretty good condition for its age." He leaned back and pictured the house as if he was walking through it again, only this time in his mind. "The floors are in good condition, someone has redone them in the not too distant past. The kitchen could use some updating but everything is functional. The decor in there is probably 1970s or so, but nice and more importantly, clean. The rooms upstairs are in good shape. The two on the backside of the house have a connecting door. The master bedroom or at least what's been made into the master is in the front of the house and has a small room connected to it which may have been another bedroom at some time." He thought about it, shrugged. "It's a pretty small room on its own, considering the neighborhood I can't see it having been a servant's room but you never know."