“She did.” Mel's eyes filled with tears and she still did not approach her husband.
“I'm sorry.” He beckoned to her but she didn't approach and she was crying openly now. He went to her and put his arms around her. “I'm so sorry, love. You know this is your home too.” He held her and she began to sob. “I'll take the portrait down tomorrow, it was stupid of me.”
“No, no, it's not that … it's just …”
“I know …”
“It's so hard to get used to living in someone else's house. I'm so used to having my own.” He sat her down beside him on the bed.
“I know … but this is your home now too.”
She looked up at him and sniffed. “No, it's not. Everything is yours and Anne's … I don't even have any of my own things around.” Peter looked pensive as he listened to her.
“Everything I have is yours, Mel.” But she wanted her own, not his.
“Just give me time. I'll get used to it all. I'm just tired, and there's been so much going on, and Pam upset me with what she said just now.” Peter kissed his wife and stood up.
“I'll go up and talk her.”
“No ! Let me handle that. If you intervene, she'll just resent me more.”
“She loves you. I know she does.” But there was worry in his eyes.
“But it's different now. I was just a guest before, and now I'm an intruder in her house.”
Peter looked even more upset at that. Was that how she felt?
“You're not an intruder. You're my wife. I hope you remember that.”
She smiled through her tears.” I do! There's just a lot going on at once, and tomorrow I start my new job.”
“I know.” He understood, but it made him sad to see her cry, and he vowed to himself to take Anne's portrait down the next day. She was right. “Why don't we both go to bed early tonight? We're both tired and it's been a rough week.” Mel didn't disagree. Moving from New York, their wedding, honeymoon, Marie's death … They brushed their teeth and went to bed and he held her close to him in the dark, feeling her warm flesh next to him. This was what he had longed for in the past six months … more than that, the last two years … and even before that, it had never been like that with Anne. She had been so much more distant than Mel. Mel seemed almost like a part of him, and for the first time in a week he felt something deep inside him stir, and as he held her close, he wanted her as never before. And when the old year became the new, he was making love to her.
CHAPTER 28
As per her new contract, negotiated while she was still in New York, the limo arrived for Mel in the early afternoon, and drove her to the station where she would work. And as she walked inside, she was aware of a hundred stares. There was incredible curiosity about her. Mel Adams was starting work. She was introduced to the producers, assistant producers and directors and cameramen and editors and grips, and suddenly despite the new surroundings, Mel felt as though she were in a familiar world. It was no different from New York or Chicago or Buffalo before that. A studio was a studio, and as she looked around the office she was assigned, she suddenly sighed and sat down. In a way, it felt like coming home. She spent the entire afternoon familiarizing herself with the people who came and went, the features and interviews recently done. She had a glass of wine with the producer and his crew, and at five thirty Paul Stevens arrived. The producer introduced them at once, and Mel smiled as they shook hands.
“It'll be nice working with you, Paul.”
“Wish I could say the same.” He shook her hand and walked away, as the producer attempted to fill the awkward gap and Mel raised an eyebrow and turned away.
“Well, at least I know where I stand.” She grinned ruefully. But it wasn't going to be easy working with him. He was furious to have a female anchor share his spot, and he was going to make Mel pay for it in every way he could. She discovered that instantly when they went on the air that night. He was saccharine sweet whenever he spoke to her, but he undercut her and upstaged her in every way he could, trying to make her nervous, throw her off, and generally drive her insane. And it was so obvious to her that his outrage was acute that when they went off the air, she stood in front of Paul's desk and looked down at him. “Is there anything we ought to talk about right now, before this thing gets out of hand?”
“Sure. How would you like to split your paycheck with me? I'm splitting my spot with you, that seems only fair.” His eyes glittered evilly, and Mel understood what the problem was. The papers had long since leaked what her contract was, and it was probably three times what they paid him, but that wasn't her fault.
“I can't help the arrangements the network made with me, Paul. It was a price war with New York. You know what that's like.”
“No, but I'd like to try.” He had been trying to get to New York for years, and she had just thrown it away, and come to breathe down his neck. He hated the bitch, no matter how good they said she was. He didn't need her coanchoring with him. He stood up now and almost snarled at her. “Just stay out of my face, and we'll do okay. Got that?”
She looked at him sadly and turned and walked away. It wasn't going to be easy working with him, and she thought about it all the way home. She only had to do the six o'clock here, for the same money she'd been offered to do the six and eleven in New York. L.A. had really done well by her. And Paul Stevens hated her for it.
“How'd it go? You looked great.” Peter looked proud of her when she came home, and everyone was still gathered around the set, but Mel didn't looked pleased.
“I've got a coanchor who hates my guts. That ought to make work fun.” That, and Pam reminding her that she lived in Peter and Anne's home, she thought, as she hung up her coat.
“He'll mellow out.”
She didn't look as sure. “I wouldn't bet on that. I think he's hoping I drop dead or go back to New York.” Mel's eyes drifted to Pam, wondering what she'd see there, but the girl's eyes were blank. And when Mel glanced at the living room wall, she saw that the portrait was gone, and she was thrilled. She threw her arms around Peter's neck, feeling better after all, and whispered in his ear. “Thank you, my love.” Pam knew what they were talking about. She got up and left the room as the others watched, and Peter spoke in a normal voice.
“I hung Anne's portrait in the hall.”
Mel froze. “You did? I thought you said you'd put it away.”
“It won't bother anybody there.” Oh, no? Their eyes met and held. “You don't mind, do you?”
She spoke in a very quiet voice. “As a matter of fact, I do. That wasn't what we agreed.”
“I know …” And then he turned to her, “It's a little rough on the kids to do everything at once. All the photographs are gone.” Mel nodded and didn't say a word, she went upstairs to her room to wash her face and hands, and then joined them at dinner, and afterward she knocked on Pam's door.
“Who is it?”
“Your wicked stepmother.” She smiled at the door.
“Who?”
“Mel.”
“What do you want?”
“I've got something to give you.” And when Pam cautiously opened the door to her room, Mel handed her a dozen photographs of Anne in silver frames. “I thought you'd like these for your room.”
Pam glanced at them and then took them from her. “Thanks.” But she said nothing more. She simply turned and closed the door in Mel's face and Mel went back downstairs.
“Were you upstairs with Pam?” Peter was pleased as she walked into their room. He was reading his medical journals again. He had to keep abreast of what was new.
“Yes. I took her some of the photographs of Anne.”
“You know, that really shouldn't be such an issue with you, Mel.”