Forecast (6 page)

Rowie glanced at Gwendolyn who nodded. “They were awful.”

Lilia was constantly being asked out. She was a bright flame and every man who met her a dull flapping moth. She found it difficult to refuse the suitors, and was often quite excited by the prospect of a date. But when the day arrived, she usually found a reason for not going. No man was good enough. No man quite right. No man lived up to Rowie’s father.

Not that Rowie would know for sure, as she’d never met him. Her parents had met briefly when they were young, and were torn apart by circumstances—or so Lilia said. But in Lilia’s mind, and the stories she told, Rowie’s father was the man to end all men. There was no one else and she was just biding time until fate threw them back together.

Rowie steeled herself. “I need to talk to you both. Something happened today?”

Lilia put the book down and sat up. She was up to a difficult part anyway and really couldn’t understand what she was reading.

Gwendolyn sat beside Lilia on the couch. “We’re listening.”

“That girl today … the one who had the short reading …”

“The desperate one?” asked Gwendolyn.

Rowie nodded. “She’s a producer with USBC news. The weather actually.”

Gwendolyn looked excited. She loved USBC’s weatherman. “Oh, does she work with Handsome Henderson?”

“Yes. And he’s had an accident. He fell off a boatshed roof.” Rowie noticed her grandmother’s distraught face. “He’s fine, but will be in hospital for a while. They need a replacement.” She spoke slowly and clearly. “They’ve asked me.”

Gwendolyn smiled. “How kind. Were they upset when you said no?”

“I said yes.”

Gwendolyn looked like someone had punched her in the gut. She doubled over and started gasping. “I can’t breath … oh … oh … help!”

Rowie and Lilia rolled their eyes at each other. They’d seen this act before. Rowie ran to the kitchen and returned with some Bach Rescue Remedy and a bottle of peppermint oil. Lilia held the essential oil under her mother’s nose.

“Just breath, Mom.”

“Oh Goddess, don’t take me yet,” gasped Gwendolyn. “There’s no one to take over the shop.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Gran,” said Rowie as she squirted the Rescue Remedy near Gwendolyn.

“Melodramatic? Shakespeare women have been in the business of healing and predictions for over five hundred years. Fighting constant persecution to honor The Gift.”

“I know. Boy, do I know,” snapped Rowie.

Gwendolyn was genuinely at a loss. “How can you not respect such a great history?”

“I do respect it … as my past. I just don’t see why it has to be my future as well.”

“You can’t escape your Gift.”

“I’m not trying to. I’ll be reaching more people than ever.”

“By turning it into a freak show.”

“You admire John Edwards, Mom,” Lilia reminded. “And you’ve always said Drew Henderson is an excellent weatherman.

“Al Roker is better.”

Lilia stroked her mother’s head. “You were thrilled when they put that billboard up across the road. You said he was the perfect man to keep watch over us.”

“Only a fool would fall off a boatshed.”

“It’s only while he’s in hospital,” Rowie explained. “Please, Gran.”

Gwendolyn thought about it for a moment. Rowie looked so excited. And business was slow at this time of year. “Oh okay. But then I need you back at the shop. I’m not long for this world and I need to know the business is safe before I go.”

Rowie nodded and walked out of the room. She didn’t have the strength to fight for total freedom. This would have to be enough.

Jack Witterspoon stared at Drew’s sleeping face. He looked so peaceful. Who would think that the guy was a complete and utter idiot? For as much as Jack loved Drew, only a complete and utter idiot would take on a Category 5 hurricane.

“Drew … buddy … wake up. C’mon, Drew, open your eyes.”

Drew’s eyelids fluttered.

“That’s it, open them. C’mon Drew.”

Drew was thrust out of a dream that included Charlize Theron and into the harsh reality of his hospital room.

“What the … where …”

“Drew, it’s me. Jack … your favorite agent. Wakey wakey.”

Drew took a moment to settle back into his body. Everything was fuzzy and confusing. “Where am I,” he mumbled.

“In hospital.”

“In New York?”

“No, buddy, you’re still in Florida.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I came down with the air force. On a media flight,” said Jack.

Drew closed his eyes for a moment as he relived the fall. “How’s Hilda?”

“She’s moved on leaving nothing but a trail of destruction behind.”

Drew smirked. “I’ve had a few girlfriends like that.”

“Haven’t we all,” Jack chuckled. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now the morphine’s kicked in.” Drew noticed the frame around the bed, and his leg, now in traction. “Guess I won’t be dancing for a while.”

“You’re lucky you’re breathing, you dipshit. I’m so mad at you. You nearly killed yourself.”

Drew looked up at his agent and grinned. Jack didn’t get angry. He was too laid back. But Drew could tell he was worried.

Jack was a big bear of a man with a heart to match. A devotee of transcendental meditation, he looked much younger than his sixty years. He was an interesting combination of hard-hitting businessman and heart-felt hippy. His appearance was smart and neat, a man who was comfortable in his body. His mind was a razor-sharp, eclectic mix of beliefs and ideas. He relied on his gut instincts in business and he only took on projects that meant something to him. He didn’t work for the money, he worked because he was passionate about his job, but the money came anyway, as it often does when people follow their dreams.

“I spoke to your doctor,” said Jack. “They rarely use traction anymore. Looks like you got lucky.”

“I can’t believe I’m stuck here,” Drew groaned.

“Perhaps we can find a way to speed your healing process up,” said Jack. “I know a great Reiki healer …”

“No, no, no,” Drew interrupted. “You are such a closet beaner. I bet you wear tie-dye boxers.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, thanks.”

“He’s been on Oprah,” Jack continued. “The guy is gifted.”

“So are the doctors here.”

A pretty blonde nurse entered and checked Drew’s chart. He raised an eyebrow and grinned. Maybe being stuck in hospital wouldn’t be so bad.

“Hi, I’m Drew.”

“So it says on your chart.”

“Are you my nurse?”

The nurse slammed the chart shut. “This isn’t the Hilton, although you’re obviously used to special treatment.”

“What do you mean?” asked Drew.

The nurse glared at him. “The rest of the hospital is packed, yet you have your own room. Someone pulled some major strings for you, Mr. Henderson.”

Drew looked at Jack, who shrugged. “It’s like a zoo out there. It’s a win-win situation: you get your own space, they get a new incubator in maternity.”

Drew turned back to the nurse. “There’s plenty more room in here for other patients.”

“I’ll let the doctors know, Mr. Henderson.”

“Just, Drew.” He upped the flirt factor. “Are all the nurses here like you?”

“You mean overworked and underpaid?” She was determined not to give into Drew’s charms. It was better to keep a professional distance when bedpans were involved.

Drew checked her name tag: Ingrid Linz.

“I have so much respect for nurses. It’s the toughest job around.”

Ingrid softened slightly and took Drew’s wrist.

Drew relaxed back into his pillows and grinned. “If my pulse is faster than normal, it’s because of you.”

Ingrid cracked, and blushed. Jack shook his head. He was used to the effect Drew had on women.

“I’ll check on you later,” Ingrid promised. “If there’s anything you need, just buzz me.”

Ingrid left and Drew turned back to Jack. “Where were we?”

Jack shook his head, amazed. “I can’t believe you just hit on your nurse. You realize at some stage today, she’ll have to check your bedpan.”

Drew blanched at the thought. He suddenly felt depressed. “Get me out of here, Jack.”

“The only way to get out of here is to heal that leg. How about acupuncture?”

Drew held up a hand. “Enough with the hoodoo voodoo.”

“You put way too much faith in western medicine, Drew.”

“It’s a science worth trusting, Jack.”

“Okay, fine. How else can I help? Can I get you some magazines or something?”

Drew’s face filled with worry. “Can you swing by my place when you get home? My dog, Norm, needs to be fed.”

“How do I get on?” asked Jack. Drew lived on a boat, so it wasn’t just a matter of opening an apartment with a key.

“I’ll call the boat basin and tell them you’re coming,” said Drew. “It’s just until I can arrange for someone to take him.”

“It’s no problem.”

“When do you fly home?”

“I’m still waiting to hear,” said Jack.

“My neighbor has been feeding him, but I told her I’d be home by tomorrow.” Drew looked anxious. “She’s going sailing on the weekend. Who’ll feed him then?”

Jack knew how much Drew loved his mutt. “I’ll look after it,” he promised. “Is that all?”

“Another thing.” Drew looked rather sheepish. “Can you swing by my hotel? I need you to give someone a message.”

Jack could see what was coming. “Who is she?”

“Eva Sanchez.”

Jack threw his arms up in defeat. “I told you to stop chasing women at work. Remember last time? You made it out by the skin of your teeth. Listen to me: mixing business with pleasure is bad!”

“You make it sound like I do it all the time,” said Drew.

“Twice in quick succession. Just as bad.”

“I like Eva. Just let her know what’s happening.”

Ingrid stuck her head back in the room. “Delivery for you … Drew.” She passed him a package and disappeared again. Drew ripped open the wrapping. It was an electronic Sudoku, with a card attached. “Hey handsome,” read Drew out loud. “How clumsy of you. That fall just ended a short but oh so sweet relationship. Hospitals aren’t my thing, but I am thinking about you and hope that bone of yours heals quickly. Thanks for all the fun times. See you back in New York. Love Eva. PS, hope the Sudoku helps pass the time.” Drew stared at the card for a moment. “I guess she’s not going to wait for me.”

“The type of woman that eats her young, buddy.”

“Lucky I’m on morphine or that could hurt.” Drew tossed the card into the bin beside the bed. “By the way, have you spoken to Mac?”

“I spoke, he screamed. He’s not happy, but they’ve got someone to replace you.”

“Who?”

“Someone new. A woman. Apparently she does a weather report in New York. I haven’t heard of her, so it must be with a cable station.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“Yes. They’re going to bring her down for a meet and greet when the airport reopens.” Jack scanned the contraption that was holding Drew’s leg together. “Is there anything else you need me to do for you while I’m here?”

Drew was silent for a moment, and then he laid on his most charming smile. “Jack, buddy … just one more thing.”

Jack placed his hand on Drew’s shoulder. “What is it?”

“Could you deal with my bedpan while you’re here? You won’t have to worry about me hitting on you.”

Rowie stood in front of the USBC building, staring up. It loomed before her like a mythical obelisk. So many of her favorite programs from childhood into adulthood had been created there. So much of the news that had made her cry, laugh or lie awake at night worrying, had been broadcast from this building. The shows created by USBC were an integral part of her cultural heritage, her past. And with any luck this building was the key to her future as well.

She suddenly felt sick.

Rowie adjusted her dress. She’d torn her wardrobe apart searching for the right outfit, eventually settling on an old favorite. It was a jade green Marc Jacobs number, which matched her eyes and set off her hair. She looked gorgeous in it.

She joined the throng of people heading through the doors. Everyone was in a hurry. The foyer was filled with screens displaying footage from the network’s roster of shows. Ann Mayer, America’s leading journalist, was interviewing Ban Ki-moon. Another screen played an episode of the hit series,
The Coven.
A third showed Drew Henderson, unaware of what a hurricane had in store for him.

She made her way through security and towards the elevator. A good-looking Asian guy pressed the button for her and smiled.

“What floor?” he asked as they got in.

“Fourth.”

“Me too. You an intern?”

“No I … I might be doing the weather.”

The guy smiled and thrust out his hand. “You’re Drew’s replacement? I’m Shin Higaki. The floor director. We’ll be working together.”

Rowie shook his hand. “Rowie Shakespeare, nauseous beginner.”

“You’ll be fine,” Shin said kindly.

The doors opened on the main floor of the news center. It was already busy, despite being barely 8:00 a.m.

“News doesn’t keep regular office hours. This is the first shift. We’ll be taking over from them,” Shin explained. “Who were you told to look for?”

“The news director.”

“Mac Roberts? First door on the left down that corridor,” said Shin. “I’ll see you round. Oh, and Rowie?”

Rowie turned. “Yes?”

“Remember to breathe.” Shin gave a wave and walked off in the opposite direction. Rowie headed towards Mac’s office and knocked on the door.”

“Enter,” came the growl from inside.

Rowie opened the door and noticed Jess seated on a couch.

“Rowie,” Jess said, standing to greet her. “This is Mac.”

Mac’s eyes narrowed as he examined Rowie. She was gorgeous, but in a wholesome way. She certainly didn’t look like a whack-job. “Good to meet you, Rowie. I’ve heard great things about you. Take a seat.”

Mac was short, stocky, with a mop of grey hair, a goatee and tattoos poking out his rolled up shirtsleeves. He looked more like an aging biker than the news director at the nation’s top television station.