From the Heart

Court? Unless, of course, the reporter’s name was T.C. Thorpe.
    Liv frowned, then quickly smoothed out her features as the door opened.
    Though it was a maid who led Liv inside, Myra herself came bustling down the hall seconds later. It was obvious, Liv thought, smiling to herself, that Myra was a woman who didn’t like to miss anything.
    “Olivia.” Myra clasped both of her hands warmly. “So glad you could come. I like having beautiful women around. I was one myself once.”
    As she talked, she was pulling Liv with her down the hall. “I watched your newscast. You’re good.”
    “Thank you.”
    Myra propelled Liv into a large drawing room. “You must meet Herbert,” she went on. “I reminded him of the tea with your parents, and your torn dress, but he didn’t remember. Herbert’s mind is filled with weighty matters. He often misses details.”
    But you don’t, Liv decided as she was pulled through the room at top speed. It was spacious, accented with splashes of vivid color and ornately patterned wallpaper. Liv decided the room suited her hostess perfectly.
    “Herbert.” Myra snatched her husband away from a conversation without a moment’s hesitation. “You must meet lovely Ms. Carmichael. She does the newscast on . . . What is the name of that station, dear?”
    “WWBW.” Liv extended her hand to Justice Ditmyer. “We’re the Washington affiliate of CNC.”
    “All those initials,” Myra commented with a cluck of hertongue. “It would be simpler if they just gave it a name. Isn’t she beautiful, Herbert?”
    “Yes, indeed.” The justice smiled with the handshake. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Carmichael.”
    He was a small and, Liv thought, curiously unimposing man without the black robes of his office. His face was lean and lined. He looked like someone’s grandfather rather than one of the top judiciary leaders of the country. The skin of his hand was soft and thin with age. He lacked the vitality of his wife, possessing instead a quiet stability.
    “Myra tells me we met briefly, a number of years ago.”
    “A great number of years ago, Justice Ditmyer,” Liv agreed. “I disgraced myself, I believe, so we’re both to be forgiven for not remembering.”
    “And she hardly resembles that little wildcat who burst into tea that afternoon,” Myra put in. She was eyeing Liv with her good-natured shrewdness. “How does your mother feel about your career in television?”
    “She wishes I’d chosen something less public,” Liv astonished herself by saying. It wasn’t like her to be so frank with strangers. Myra Ditmyer, she decided, would have made a terrific interviewer.
    “Ah, well, parents are so hard to please, aren’t they?” Myra brushed it off with a smile and a pat on Liv’s hand. “My children find me terribly difficult, don’t they, Herbert?”
    “So they tell me.”
    “All nicely married now,” she continued, overlooking her husband’s dry response. “So I’ve time to work on my nephew. Nice boy—a lawyer. He lives in Chicago. I believe I mentioned him.”
    “Yes, Mrs. Ditmyer.” Liv heard the justice sigh, and tried not to echo with one of her own.
    “He’s here on business for a few days. I do want you to meet him.” Myra scanned the room quickly, then her eyes lit. “Yes, there he is. Greg!” She lifted her voice, and her hand in a signal. “Greg, come over here a moment. I have a lovely girl for you to meet.”
    “She can’t help it,” Justice Ditmyer said in an aside to Liv. “A dyed-in-the-wool busybody.”
    “Romantic,” Myra corrected. “Greg, you must meet Olivia. She’s a newscaster.”
    Liv turned to meet the nephew, and stared. An avalanche of memories crashed down on her. If any words had formed in her brain, she wouldn’t have been able to speak them.
    Greg stared back, equally stunned. “Livvy?” He reached out a hand to touch hers, as if to reassure himself she was real. “Is it really you?”
    She wasn’t certain what she felt. Surprise, yes, but she couldn’t separate pleasure from anxiety. The past, it seemed, refused to stay buried. “Greg.” She hoped her face wasn’t as pale as her voice.
    “This is incredible!” He smiled now and pulled her against him for a hug. “Absolutely incredible. What has it been? Five years?”
    “It appears you two know each other already,” Myra said wryly.
    “Livvy and I were in college together.” Greg drew her away to take a long look. “My God, you’re more