From the Heart

that kind of need. A person’s grief, a person’s private torment should be just that. Private. It should be handled with dignity.”
    “Poppycock,” Myra said rudely. “When you’re hurt, you cry, and the hell with anyone who doesn’t like to see tears.”
    Liv laughed. “I believe I could have used you then. I might not have made such a botch of things.”
    “It’s entirely your own opinion that you did,” Myra said sternly. “It might be time for you to give yourself a bit more credit. But, as I’ve said, you’ve lived through it, and this is today. Tell me about you and T.C.”
    “Oh.” Liv looked down at her salad again in fresh bewilderment. What was there to say? She’d botched things again.
    “I can hardly hold any hope that you and Greg will make a match of it.” She saw Liv smile at that and continued. “But as T.C.’s one of my favorite people, I’ve decided to be content with that.”
    “I’m not ever going to marry again.”
    “Oh, what boring nonsense,” Myra said good-naturedly. “T.C. and you have been seeing each other fairly regularly now, haven’t you?”
    “Yes, but . . .” Liv frowned a bit. Myra really had missed her calling.
    “He’s entirely too intelligent a man to let you slip through his fingers. I’d bet Herbert’s prize golf clubs that he’s already asked you to marry him.”
    “Well, no. That is, he told me I was going to, but—”
    “Much more in character,” Myra said, pleased. “Oh, yes, that’s just like him. And, of course, that got your back up.”
    “He was so unbearably arrogant,” Liv stated, remembering.
    “And he loves you so dreadfully.”
    That stopped her. She could only stare.
    “Olivia, a blind man could have seen it that night at my little bridge game. And my eyesight’s very keen. What are you doing about it?”
    “I’ve . . .” Liv felt herself deflate like a pricked balloon. “I’ve ruined it. Last night.”
    Myra studied her in silence a moment. Really, she thought, the child was so confused. Again she reached out to pat her hand. It was such a shame to see people waste time because they thought too much and acted too little.
    “You know, unlike the maxim, life isn’t short, Olivia; it’s really terribly long.” She smiled at the serious eyes on her face. “But not nearly long enough. I’ve been married to Herbert for thirty-five years. If I had listened to my parents, bless them, and my own better sense, I would never have married a man who seemed too stuffy, who was too old for me and entirely too work oriented. Think of all I would have missed. Life,” she said positively, “is worth a few risks. To prove it,” she added and sat back, “I’m going to have some of that lemon mousse . . . .”
    Even hours later, preparing for broadcast, Liv couldn’t get Myra’s words out of her mind. It was time to do something, she decided in the middle of the sportscaster’s report. Time to stop mulling things over point by point. If she wanted to be with Thorpe, she was going to have to tell him so.
    The moment her broadcast was over, Liv went upstairs. Seeing her approach, the receptionist gave a fatalistic sigh.
    “He’s not here,” she said, as she prepared to pack up her work for the day. “He’s doing his report on location.”
    “I’ll wait in his office.” Liv breezed by before the other woman could comment.
    What am I going to say to him? Liv asked herself the moment she shut the door behind her. What can I say? Pacing the room, she tried to find words.
    It seemed odd to be there without him. The room was so much his. Scattered on one wall were pictures of him with various world leaders and government officials. He looked invariably relaxed—never stiff, never overawed. He was simply Thorpe, Liv mused. And that was enough. There were scrawled notes littering his desk, and a hefty pile of papers held down by a paperweight. She went to look out at his view of the city.
    She could see the dome of the Capitol. With the sun beginning to set, it had a rosy hue, almost fairylike. Traffic was thick, but the heavy glass insulated her from the sound of it. She gazed out at the lines and circles of the streets, the old, stately buildings, the cherry blossoms just coming to bloom. It didn’t have the movement or urgency of New York, she decided, but was beautiful in its way. Engrossed in her study, she never heard Thorpe come in.
    Seeing her surprised him. He was uncustomarily thrown off-balance. He