The Dollhouse - Fiona Davis Page 0,86
ethics of this?”
She sighed. “Always.” If he only knew how unethical she really was.
“What happened with Gloria Buckstone?” He sat up and put a pillow behind his back, as if he had all the time in the world.
The vision of Gloria’s black leather boots, which hugged the shin and ended right below the knee, flew into her head. Rose closed her eyes, remembering the look on Gloria’s face as she leaned against her desk, her mouth set into a firm line. It was what had made her the star she was, her way of incorporating the coyness of a twenties film queen with the granite determination of an undertaker.
Rose’s sweater was lying on the bedside table. She pulled it over her head. “What rumors have you heard?”
“Rumor has it that Buckstone set you up for a fall.”
“Nothing that glamorous. The banking documents we got on Senator Madden seemed suspicious. I told Gloria we should wait to make any accusations, that they might be false.”
Jason nodded, encouraging her on.
“I cared more about the facts than being first. But she didn’t want to wait.”
In fact, Gloria had laid into Rose when she’d expressed her concerns. Told her she was smart and capable and if she wanted to rise in the company, she’d have to be more sure of herself. Take risks. Her words had stuck in Rose’s head, like an anti-mantra: “The only person who’s scared is you,” Gloria told her, “and it shows. If you want to report the news, you have to be the one in the driver’s seat. Now, drive.”
Rose looked at Jason. “Gloria mentored me, helped me make my way up. I owed her. But I wanted corroboration, a second source.”
“Understandable.”
“We aired it anyway, and were vilified when the documents turned out to be fake. I was asked to resign and Gloria was suspended. She pushed the story despite my doubts and then she never said a single word in my defense when we were busted. My hunch was correct, but that was no consolation.”
Jason nodded. “Until a week later when the story turned out to be true. At which point you and Gloria were vindicated.”
“I guess so.”
Griff loved introducing her as “Senator Madden’s nemesis.” It was good for his image, dating a journalist who went after corrupt politicians. Or at least it had been, for a while. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine. She didn’t want to think about Griff right now.
“Well, I’m sorry she screwed you. And I’m glad you’re at WordMerge now.”
“Thanks.”
Strange, how easy it was with this man. If anything, distance had made her see where she should have taken a stand.
It felt good to come clean.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
New York City, 1952
My darling!”
Darby’s mother stood in the middle of the lobby, arms outstretched. Less than two days had passed since Darby had been expelled, and the last person she expected to come calling for her was Mother. When the concierge rang her room to say she had a visitor, she’d hoped that it was Sam. Instead, when the elevator doors opened, she was greeted by Mother.
Mother obviously hadn’t heard.
Darby stifled the impulse to run into her arms and bury her head in Mother’s perfumed embrace as if she were a four-year-old child. The sound of girlish laughter drifted down from the mezzanine, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of any other guests.
She accepted a long hug instead.
“I missed you, Darby dear.” Mother held her at arm’s length and studied her carefully. “The school sent a notice last week saying you were having difficulty and I jumped on a train and here I am.”
Darby added the cost of the train to her ongoing tally of repayments. “You didn’t need to come.”
“I’m glad I did. You don’t look very well. Have you been eating? Never mind; let’s pop into the café right here and I’ll get some food in you.”
They walked through the inside entrance to the café with linked arms. The gesture was strange and artificial, as if Mother was acting out some scene in a madcap movie. Darby slipped inside a booth near the back and fiddled with her silverware until Mother shot her one of her signature looks.
“Sorry.”
“Now tell me everything.”
Darby evaded the command. “How is Mr. Saunders? And the dogs?”
“All are well.”
Mother called the waiter over and ordered Jell-O salads for both of them. Daddy used to say his wife could have been a Hollywood star, with her arched, plucked eyebrows, high cheekbones, and tiny nose. She neatly placed