Thanks for your patience while my family recovered from illness. I promise I won't disappear on you again.
Table of Contents Previously, in Part 3:
“We’ve been dying to hear back from you. What’s she like?”
“Lois is beautiful… focused… striking… determined… and fascinating, and we’ve had lunch together for the last two days, but I’m still just beginning to get to know her,” Clark gushed. He didn’t mention the fact that he had only learned her name around the water cooler or that she hadn’t, as of yet, even given him the time of day.
He tried to ignore his mother’s wide grin as he changed the subject.
“Besides, I came here to visit you. How are things?”
And now, Part 4:
The world was a wonderful place. At “The Morning Brainstorm”, Perry had assigned Clark a human interest piece designed to match up with the start of the school-year at the three local colleges: a story about the changing face of non-traditional students. And he had been told to interview the new love of his life. Life was good!
~*~
Oh, good heavens! It wasn’t bad enough that ‘The Charmer’ had invaded her lunch every day last week, now he was heading over to lay siege to her workspace. It was practically intolerable.
“Did you get lost?” she greeted him, icily. “Your desk is normally over there.”
“Good morning,” he tossed back, in an annoyingly pleasant tone. “Actually, I needed your help.”
“Oh, so you did need me to tell you where to go.”
“In fact, Perry sent me to you. He wants to do this piece on non-traditional students. It’s the cover story for the “On the Town” section. School starts on Thursday at South East and Jefferson U and on Friday at Met, so I’d expect it to run around those days. Anyway, he promised that you’d make an interesting addition to the story, so when would be a good time for an interview?”
Lois was uncharacteristically caught off-guard. If Perry was behind this, she was in—all the way. But if ‘Mr. People Person’ was schmoozing his way into a little one-on-one time, she was not in the least bit interested.
“Why don’t you have Perry’s people call my people,” she finally decided.
“Excuse me?” he seemed confused.
“I realize you’re probably used to writing with a fourth-grade vocabulary, so I’ll limit myself to the smaller words.”
Her tone was patronizing, “My work is assigned by Glen. Your work is assigned by Perry. I can’t just drop everything on your say-so, so if you want me to free up some time you’ll need to have Perry make arrangements with Glen. Capisce?”
It was kind of amusing to see him stand and blink that way. His slow male brain was obviously still processing what she’d said. Blink. Blink. Input. Input.
“All right, I didn’t think that office politics would get in the way of a little interview. But if you prefer, I’ll go through channels.”
She hoped he wouldn’t be back before it was time to ruin her lunch. Chew on that!
~*~
It was all arranged. Perry was a little put out that she wasn’t a team player, but Clark had been quick to point out that it was probably necessary to go through channels at her last workplace and she was probably just trying to keep her backside covered. Anyway, Perry had told Glen to clear up some of Lois’ time, and then left it to Clark and Glen to make arrangements, since Lois clearly didn’t want to be involved in the process.
When Glen pointed out that Lois really was overbooked, since she was obviously one of the best researchers they had, even if she had only been here a few days, Clark suggested that he could do a lunch interview if it would suit The Planet’s interests better.
And so it fell to Glen to invite the charming Miss Lane to lunch.
It was a wonderful life.
~*~
“Where would you like to go for lunch?” he asked amiably as they walked into the elevator.
“I would love to head to a deserted island to eat my bologna sandwich in peace.”
He ignored her sniping, as he had earlier that day. “There’s “The Sandwichery” across the street, Mexican one block that way, an Italian place down thataway (although I don’t recommend it, if you’re in a hurry). Oh, and they serve Thai food a couple blocks over there.”
She stopped and looked at him strangely. “Is it any good?”
“I can’t say that I’ve ever been there. Why? You want to go?”
“Thai, it is,” she decided with an odd challenge in her tone of voice.
The scents coming from the kitchen were both unusual and appealing; the décor was exotic and the wait staff polite. And in his opinion, the company was exquisite.
“So, tell me about yourself,” he invited, pulling out a recorder as soon as their order had been taken.
“Five three and a half. This is my real hair color. One hundred and none-of-your-business pounds.”
Clark chuckled as if she had told a delightful joke. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Okay, no police record. No traffic tickets. Acquitted of every charge ever brought against me.”
“How about, ‘Where are you going to school, Miss Lane?’”
She paused, maybe to decide whether or not to tell him the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. “I’m a freshman at South East. Journalism major, as if that wasn’t obvious.”
“What made you decide to go back after all these years?”
“You mean, what made me decide to go?”
He blinked again, that slow male brain needing a little more RAM to keep up with her.
“Isn’t that what I said?”
“No,” she corrected, “you said, ‘go back.’ I said, ‘go.’ There is no ‘going back’ if I never went in the first place.”
“Oh, so that’s why you’re in research,” he concluded. “You’re interested in becoming a reporter, but you don’t have the credentials, yet, for a full reporting position.”
“I’m not interested in
becoming a reporter,” she corrected ‘Monsieur Pedantic’, once again, not even trying to keep the flames out of her voice. “I
am a reporter. I’ve reported on some of the hottest stories of the last decade. I was imbedded in Iraq while you were sipping tea with the Ladies Auxiliary and jotting down notes about their Colonial quilt sale. I’ve seen every African takeover in the last decade while you were keeping your desk dusted. I
am the
best reporter that you will ever lay eyes on, thank you very much. Any more questions?”
“I don’t get it. Why would the best reporter I’ve ever laid eyes on be working an opening position in research?” He didn’t seem to be challenging her, only struggling to understand.
Her eyes fell for a moment. The silence joined them at the table for a minute or two, and when she caught his gaze again, her features had mellowed.
Her softer voice matched her quieted mood. “Because I’m tired of running around the world proving myself over and over again. I wanted to come back to America. And reporters in America need Bachelor’s degrees. So I’m doing what I need to do to get where I want to go.”
Clark looked downright twitterpated. “Perry is right. You are a fascinating woman.”
The arrival of their food interrupted her acerbic reply.
She paused, waiting for his response to the fiery food. Since he hadn’t been used to Thai cuisine she had made a few suggestions. She had made sure that ‘Mr. Ham-and-Cheese-on-Rye’ had ordered one of the spiciest dishes on the menu. He took a bite. She counted three for the full flavor to permeate his senses. She had expected him to change colors, at the very least, but she was hoping for a good show of spitting and puffing.
Instead, he merely raised an eyebrow.
“Interesting,” was his mild-mannered reply. “It has more flavor than I expected, not just spice.” His smile reached to his eyes. “I like it. Thanks for bringing me here, Lois.”
