Private Scandals

remembered.
    “Jeff, hi. What’s all this?”
    “For you.” He set it on her desk, then immediately shoved his hands in his pockets. As an editorial assistant, Jeff Hyatt was more comfortable with equipment than with people. He gave Deanna a fleeting smile, then stared at the flowers. “Nice. I ran into the delivery boy, and since I was on my way in . . .”
    “Thanks, Jeff.”
    “No problem.”
    Deanna had already forgotten him as she reached for the card tucked among the blooms.
    How about Hawaii?
    Smiling, she reached out to stroke a blossom. One more on the “decline” list, she mused. Marshall.
     
    “Miss Reynolds to see you, Miss Perkins.”
    “Ask her to wait.” With a cigarette smoldering between her fingers, Angela frowned over Beeker’s report on Marshall Pike. It was certainly interesting reading, and demanded her full attention. His credentials were well earned—the doctorate from Georgetown, the year studying abroad. And financially, the psychologist did well for himself counseling socialites and politicians on their floundering marriages and dysfunctional families. He offset his lucrative practice by donating three afternoons a week to social services.
    Overall, a nice, upstanding profile of a man who had studied well and worked hard and was devoted to preserving family life.
    Angela knew all about profiles, and the illusions they fostered.
    His own marriage had failed. A quiet, civilized divorce hadn’t caused much of a ripple in Chicago society, and certainly hadn’t harmed his practice. Still, it was interesting. Interesting because Beeker had discovered that the size of Marshall’s settlement with his ex-wife was a whopper, as were the alimony payments. Much more than a brief, childless marriage warranted.
    He hadn’t contested it, Angela mused. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she continued to read. Perhaps he hadn’t dared. When a thirty-five-year-old man was caught entertaining his secretary’s very lovely, very naked and very young daughter at two A . M ., he didn’t have a lot of room for negotiations. A minor, however willing, was still a minor. And adultery, particularly with a sixteen-year-old, carried a hefty price tag.
    He’d been clever in covering himself, Angela mused, scanning Beeker’s file. The secretary had taken a fat lump sum and a glowing reference and moved her family to San Antonio. The wife had taken a great deal more, but barely a whisper about the good doctor had escaped. And when it had—and Angela admired him for his boldness—rumor tied him obliquely with the secretary, not her nubile daughter . . . .
    So, the elegant Dr. Pike continued his practice as one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors.
    The eminent family counselor with a weakness for teenagers. An interesting topic for a show, she decided, and laughed out loud. No, no, they would keep this one private. Some information was worth a great deal more than ratings. Angela closed the file and slipped it into a drawer. She wondered how much Deanna knew.
    “Send her in, Cassie.”
    Angela was all smiles when Deanna walked in. “Sorry I kept you waiting. I had a little something to finish up.”
    “I know you’re busy.” Deanna briefly tugged on her earring. “Do you have a few minutes?”
    “Of course.” She rose, gesturing to a chair. “How about some coffee?”
    “No, don’t bother.” Deanna sat, made herself fold her hands quietly in her lap.
    “No trouble. Something cold instead?” Delighted, for the moment, to serve, Angela crossed to the bar and poured them both a mineral water. “If I didn’t have a dinner tonight, I’d have Cassie bring in some of those fudge cookies I know she’s got in her desk.” She laughed lightly. “She doesn’t think I know about them. But then, I make it a policy to know everything about my people.” After handing Deanna a glass, she dropped into a chair and stretched out her legs. “It’s been quite a day so far. And I’m off at dawn for California.”
    “California? I didn’t know you were going on location.”
    “No, I’m speaking at the commencement exercises at Berkeley.” Not bad, Angela thought, for someone who waited tables to get through Arkansas State. “I’ll be back for Monday’s tapings. You know, Dee, since you stopped by, you might take a look at my speech. You know how I value your input.”
    “Sure.” Miserable, Deanna sipped at the water. “I can’t do it until after five, but—”
    “No