Private affairs : a novel (35 page)

"Too many of those little men think they can crunch other people underfoot like centipedes. But I'm telling them it won't work! Too many legs! Too many of us! They'll see whether it's so easy to stamp us out . . . !"

Elizabeth knew it was the best story she had ever written. And on May 10, three weeks after it appeared in the Rourke chain to an outpouring of mail and telephone calls, it was reprinted by the Los Angeles Times as part of a two-page article on vacation resorts in the southwest. Tony tore it out and sent it to his producer, with a scrawled note. "Please read! You turned thumbs down on my brilliant idea of having Elizabeth Lovell interview her non-famous people on 'Anthony.' Kindly explain why she's good enough for the Times, but not good enough for us."

"We're not talking 'good,' " his producer said on the telephone the next day. "We're talking audience. Nobody cares about people they never heard of."

"Call the Times," Tony ordered. "Ask them about their mail."

A week later his producer called again. "How did you know?"

"I'm a fan. How many letters did they get?"

"Fifty letters, ninety-two phone calls, eighty-one offers of money to help that woman fight for her valley."

"Ha! Do we try her on my show?"

"Tony, are you fucking her? I don't want hysterical women on this show, and when you're through with them they always get—"

"Not to worry; she isn't the hysterical type."

"You haven't answered my question."

"My love life is not part of my contract," Tony said sweetly. "It's not something we discuss."

"But we do discuss your ratings. Which are slipping. Probably because you're not as sharp as you were five years ago—"

"Nobody is as sharp as they were five years ago. Including you."

"—or because audiences are tired of celebrities—which I doubt—or we're picking the wrong celebrities. Or all of the above. Okay, I'm willing to let your girl friend do a few pilot tapes, but if you turn this place into a sexual stew—"

"I told you not to worry," Tony retorted. "I'll handle her."

"As long as you understand that you're responsible. One more thing. I know you don't pick dogs, but I'm asking anyway: how will she look on camera?"

"Like it was invented for her. Also she's got class. Why don't you trust me in these matters? I'm a connoisseur and you know it."

"I know you often get carried away."

"I pretend to when it's useful. And you know that too. Now listen: she doesn't know about my ratings. She thinks I'm at the top of the heap. There's no reason to tell her otherwise."

"She thinks you're doing this out of the generosity of your corrupt heart?"

"Don't try to be clever. She doesn't think it's corrupt. Are you going to be careful how you talk to her, or not?"

"Of course I am. As long as she helps the show."

"I applaud your wise decision." Tony hung up and immediately called Elizabeth. "I have news," he told her the minute she answered. "My producer, unlovable but shrewd, will soon call to offer you a place on 'Anthony.' That is, he'll ask for a few pilot interviews. If he likes them, we'll run them this fall, to see what the response is. Do you know about the offers of money at the Times?"

"Yes, they sent me the letters. They want to buy more of my stories, Tony. Should I let them?"

"Not until you have an agent. I'll help you find one. Did you hear what I said about my show?"

"Yes. How often would I have to be in Los Angeles?"

"It depends. You can tape interviews on location with crews from local affiliates, or we fly your people here and you interview them in the studio. Plus one day a week for editing and conferences on planning and schedul-ing. You'd enjoy being part of that, wouldn't you? And Los Angeles? It would be a homecoming for you. And I'd be here, to lend a helping hand."

"I don't know, Tony. I'll think about it."

"That's what you're going to tell my producer?"

"It depends on what I've decided when he calls."

"What can I do to convince you? Swoop in and take you to dinner? How about the M & J Sanitary Tortilla Factory in Albuquerque for Bea Montoya's famous burritos?"

She laughed. "How do you know about Bea's place?"

"I watch television. It made her famous; it will make you famous. Shall I come and take you to dinner?"

"Not tonight."

"Soon, then. And you'll let me know as soon as you decide?"

"Of course. And thank you, Tony." Hanging up, Elizabeth contemplated the television set in the corner of the den. // will make you famous.

For Peter's graduation, on the last Sunday in May, Elizabeth and Matt, Spencer and Lydia, Holly and Maya squeezed into the tightly-packed stadium bleachers, sitting halfway above the field and halfway below the sign announcing "Demon Country." Eight hundred students in caps and gowns marched into the stadium, their names called in pairs as they entered. When Maya heard Peter's name she let out her breath in a sigh. "It's like he's taken a big jump and left me behind."

"I know," Holly said. "He's changed so much." Later, when Peter stood to give the class address and the seniors gave him a lusty cheer, she shook her head in wonder. For four years he'd never fit in; he'd been mocked for his shyness and his love of Indian art and legends instead of sports. He hadn't gone on the senior class trip, or to the senior prom; he'd taken Maya to dinner and the Taos Spring Arts Celebration instead. And although he had joined the photo club and the French club, he was still uncomfortable and he left the campus as soon as he could each afternoon. "Why are they cheering him?" Holly asked Elizabeth.

"Because he's their top student," Elizabeth replied. "And he makes all of them look good by being smart."

"He makes the whole school look good," Matt said. "Besides, people cheer a handsome man who makes something of himself whether they like him or not. They cheer because he's shown them success is possible."

"That's very clever," Elizabeth said. "Is that why people cheer you in Houston?"

"Some of them," he replied evenly.

"And the others?"

"The others think I'm doing a good job."

A few minutes later the ceremony ended, the field swarmed with stu-

dents and their relatives, and Peter's family took him off for a festive dinner with Saul and Heather, Maya, and some friends from the Chieftain staff.

"It was perfect," Elizabeth said later to Matt as they sat in their courtyard sharing iced tea and cookies. "Just the kind of celebration Peter wanted. And best of all, you were here."

"You couldn't have doubted I would be."

"Once I couldn't have."

"But this time you did."

"Yes."

He inspected the decorations on one of the cookies. "Eight months," he murmured. "It's gone so fast I can't believe it's been that long. But it was long enough to make you stop trusting me."

"I think you gave me reasons." Elizabeth leaned forward and put her hand on his. "Matt, maybe you ought to slow down. You've done far more than we ever dreamed: twenty papers—"

"Twenty-one," he interrupted automatically.

"Twenty-one, then; I didn't know you'd bought another."

"I was going to tell you about it tonight. It's not big yet, but there's tremendous potential—"

"Matt, I'm trying to talk to you."

"I heard you. You're telling me I should give up what I'm still building and turn my back on the biggest job I ever had. What would you like me to do? Come back to Santa Fe and run the Chieftain?"

"Not if you don't want to. I didn't ask you to give up everything. A year ago this week we owned two newspapers and were just starting out at the Daily News, Now you're running twenty-one papers, you give speeches all over the country, you're influencing legislation on land use . . . how much do you need to feel satisfied?"

Must there be a limit at the outset?

They looked at each other, both of them remembering Rourke's asking that seductively vague question, in Aspen.

"I don't have a number," Matt said. "But we want influence in certain states and that means owning key papers in those states. Until we've done that, we keep buying."

"Twenty-one isn't enough for you? Just you, Matt. Not Keegan or his corporation; just you. I remember when we talked about owning one or two papers—"

"And you wanted your column to be in one or two papers. Are you unhappy with twenty-one?"

"Of course not. But no one asked me if I would have been happy with ten or fifteen."

"Would you have been?"

"Yes. Just as I'm happy now with twenty and don't need thirty. Matt, there are other things I care about. I thought you did, too. What good is making a lot of money if we can't enjoy it together? What good is paying off our debts if we're not free to travel with Peter and Holly, or alone—or just be together, all of us? We shuttle back and forth between Houston and Santa Fe on little visits, and not many of those, lately; we're all going in different directions; we're not sharing; we've lost the idea we started out with of being partners. We're not working together at anything, not even our marriage. Matt, are you listening?"

He was gazing over the adobe wall, at the branches of an olive tree faintly outlined against the starlit sky. The scent of primroses filled the air. He took a deep breath. "Yes, of course I was listening. I've had regrets in the past months, too, but I thought we'd make up for them. I thought I was building a future for the two of us—"

"Alone. Not with me."

"It worked out that way. You wanted to stay here until Peter graduated and that seemed logical to me."

"I think I was wrong. It sounded so simple, but how could we believe we could stay close while we were so far apart? It's a romantic idea that couldn't work, at least while our lives are changing—while we're changing. We were wrong to think it was a good idea."

"I don't think so. It was good for Peter, and I've been on the move so much we wouldn't have seen a lot more of each other than we did with you here. Anyway, it's done. And I've made a start at something enormous—and you want me to quit."

"I didn't say quit. I said slow down so we can make a life together again."

"I thought we were planning to make a life together in Houston. In fact, if you'd come to choose a house when I asked, we'd be packing now instead of talking. Do you know how many times you've come to Houston since Keegan's party?"

"Three."

"In eight months."

"I don't enjoy it, Matt. And you don't enjoy having me there. You may have been on the move a lot, but you've managed to make friends and build your own life, and they're not my friends and it's not my life."

"Because you've always been visiting. If you lived there, you'd make them your friends."

"Because they're all I'd have? Because I'd find out how lovable they are underneath? Or because they're important to your empire?"

He made a gesture of impatience, "You'd pick and choose and find those you like. Are you saying you couldn't find a friend in all of Houston? You were more adventurous once."

"Do you really want an adventurous wife? Or do you want one who will help you be the head of Rourke Publishing? Hostess, companion, good listener; well-groomed, sexually attractive. ..."

"What's wrong with that? We'd be working together—"

"That's not the job I want!"

"It's not a job; it's something we'd do together. I don't want you to stop writing; you know I'm proud of what you're doing. But the more you help me, the faster we'll build the kind of life that will give us everything we want."

"Matt, will you listen to what I'm saying? I'm not sure I want that kind of life!"

"That's because you don't understand it."

"I understand that you're changing in ways that bother me, either because of the people you're with or the work you do—"

"You've never approved of the work I do because it's come from Kee-gan. You don't understand how important it is—"

"And how important you are in doing it."

"What's wrong with that? Elizabeth, listen to me. Small groups of people run the affairs of this country. Why shouldn't I be part of them? Why shouldn't I take advantage of the greatest opportunity I've ever had and give it all I've got? How many times does the brass ring come around? Once—if we're lucky. If I hadn't grabbed it in Aspen, or if I walk away from it now, it would be gone; it won't come again. I'd go back to being a small-town editor with no influence and no importance; not even on the fringes of power. I'd be one of the people you write about who go through life with no say in the decisions that shape the country. Do you think I could go back to that after these past months?"

Ambition is eating you up inside.

They both remembered Rourke saying that, too.

Matt stood, and leaned forward, with both hands on the table. "How often does anyone get a chance to climb above everyone else? Most people never even dare dream about it. But when a man does get it, and knows he has to go after it, he'd like his wife at his side. But my wife wants me to give it up. That's what 'slow down' really means, isn't it? You never wanted me to go after it; you've tried to hold me back since the day Keegan made his offer. And now, after I've spent months working twenty

hours a day to get a handle on this job, learning how to use the money and power at my disposal, all you can say is you want us to have some time together. Though I'm not sure why you want that, since you also say you don't like the way I've changed."

"I want it because you're my husband and I love you."

"If that's really true, if you really gave a damn about our future—"

"Whose future? Yours or mine?"

"Our future, damn it. When a wife helps her husband win a race he's waited for all his life, it's their future."

"I've helped you from the beginning. Or don't you remember that?"

"I've never denied it. I probably wouldn't have bought the Chieftain without you; I couldn't have made it a success without you. But you've built that into some kind of fairy tale. Have you forgotten how hard we worked there? And for what? To double a circulation of ten thousand! Millions of readers in this country and we cheered for twenty thousand!" He straightened up, looking down at her. "I can't understand why you're fighting me on this. You're getting what you've always wanted, too. You're becoming known, appearing in more papers, making more money . . . Christ, Elizabeth, it's not as if I'm asking you to stay home while I get all the excitement and attention; you have a tremendous talent and a career that I'll make bigger with every step I take—"