Page 3 of Always You (A Lilac Bay Novel)

“Uh huh. Driven,” he muttered, before taking a large bite of his food, presumably so that he wouldn’t be tempted to comment further.

“Well, it’s like Heather Dale always says—”

He groaned, shaking his head. I could see the muscles in his throat working furiously to swallow his potatoes so that he could argue with me about my choice of topic.

I gave him my sweetest smile as I continued. There was nothing I loved more than forcing Andrew into conversations about my idol, TV personality Heather Dale. There was something so satisfying about the way his ears turned redder than his hair when he was annoyed. “Like I was saying—Heather always says, ‘we only fail when we fail to try.’ ”

“No. Absolutely not,” he said, apparently free of the risk of choking now. “We are not talking about Heather Dale at lunch. Youpromised.”

“She came up naturally!”

He shook a finger in my direction. “You look for reasons to bring up that nutjob.”

“Nut job?” I cried, honestly offended now. “That woman is my hero!”

He closed his eyes. “Oh, God. Here we go.”

“Did you know that Heather Dale was the youngest-ever lead anchor on a local Detroit news affiliate?” I asked. “And that she was offered a correspondent job at the American News Network in New York only two years later? She took a failing morning show and completely rebranded it, totally revolutionizing the format of daytime talk shows. She’s an inspiration, Andrew. She had to battle humble beginnings, sexismandageism in the work place, the loss of her fiancé—”

“I know, I know,” he said, holding out his hands in defeat. “You’re right. The morning news lady is a hero to us all. Can we drop it now?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “She’s not just the morning news lady. In addition to being a featured correspondent on The Morning Show, she’s the host of her very own program. Thetop rateddaytime show in the country. Not to mention the host of several successful primetime specials and variety hours—”

He buried his head in his hands and muttered something muffled that sounded like,I should have just let it go.

“Yes,” I said primly, reaching over my shoulder for the remote on the counter. “You should have. Because now we’re going to watch the last ten minutes ofDaytime Daleso you can see exactly how impressive she really is.”

“No.” He sat up straight and turned pleading eyes toward me. “Please, Riley. Don’t make me watch that show. I’ll do anything. I’ll—” His eyes frantically scanned the table, apparently in search of something to offer. “I’ll give you the last bite of my cookie!”

“Too late.” I hit the power button and punched in a seven, smiling when Heather’s face filled the screen. “Perfect timing.”

I drowned out Andrew’s groan by turning up the volume.

The host had just finished an interview and was now addressing the audience, something she did at the end of every episode. I relaxed into my chair, forgetting all about Andrew’s anti-Heather attitude, my entire focus on the screen. I was recording this at home, of course, just like I recorded every episode. I watched them when I got home from work, my little reward for getting through a long day of Millie’s disapproving sighs. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a nice treat to catch an episode live.

I hadn’t been exaggerating when I said Heather Dale was my hero. I had looked up to her ever since college, the only time in my life when I lived off the island. I’d attended school downstate in Detroit, where Heather was in her second year of anchoring the news for the local ANN affiliate. Back then, I had grand ambitions of someday going into news or television, so I had always made it a point to watch as many different newscasters as possible. As soon as I saw Heather Dale on my TV I knew she was going places. She was beautiful, for starters. I had serious hair envy for her long and wavy chestnut locks. My own hair was an acceptable shade of blonde, but stick-straight and virtually impossible to style. Where I was tall and thin, Heather had a perfect curvy figure that would have suited a swimsuit model. But she was way too ambitious and professional to ever consider a career like that. She infused both her morning correspondent segment and daytime show with a mixture of hard-hitting interviews, news, politics, and culture. She could make her guests laugh and cry and shake in their boots with fear when she turned her relentless questioning on them—all in the same interview. She dressed really well—professional but stylish. She was charming, warm, whip-smart, with a killer sense of humor.

I wanted tobeHeather Dale.

“Oh, God,” Andrew muttered. “You have that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one that tells me I’m eventually going to have to drive to Manhattan to bail you out after your arrest for stalking a TV news star.”

I threw my napkin at him, never taking my eyes from the screen.

Of course I didn’t want to stalk Heather Dale. I just found her inspiring, that was all. And, honestly, who could blame me? It was pretty damn hard to find beautiful, successful, glamorous women to look up to on this island. Unless, of course, your dream was to operate a fudge kitchen or a tourist kitsch shop on Main Street.

“I grew up in a small town,” Heather was saying on the screen. “And as much as I love living in Manhattan, there are definitely many things that I miss about home. I’m sure many of you grew up in small towns just like the one I called home.”

The camera panned to the audience members as they smiled and nodded.

“Riley, please, I’ll never say another word—”

“Shush.” I threw another napkin. “I want to hear this.”

“I think small towns are the back bone of this country,” she went on. “And that’s why I’m so excited to announce my next project. We’re going coast to coast, searching for America’s Best Small Town!”