Lou barged into Owen’s office.
“Give me my hard drive, Owen. Please.”
“No can do, Lou. That’s company property. It’s time for you to leave.”
Chapter 44
Jen looked at the two suitcases on the porch. She was sure she had packed everything she and Ricky needed for their mini vacation. Her phone rang.
“You about ready?”
“Yup. And Ralph…”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for doing this. For taking me and Ricky away from it all. I think the four of us will have a great time.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’ll pick you guys up in about fifteen.”
Ralph and Jen had become good friends since the horrific evacuation day. Since then, he encouraged her to speak out about the plant. Diana admired him for that, for the sensitive way he related to Jen.
It had been a long time since Jen felt comfortable with a man. Ralph was a psychologist with a practice in Katonah, just twenty minutes away. Jen especially liked how he and Ricky connected. Her son seemed to be climbing out of his grief and losing interest in the horrendous video games. He was even making a few good friends at school.
Because Ralph and Jen lived only a few miles away from each other, the kids would go to each other’s houses after school to do their homework. Jen realized that, inadvertently, Julie might be helping Ricky deal with Kaylee’s death, and Ralph agreed.
On school nights, when Ralph would arrive at Jen’s house to pick up Julie, Jen would have dinner for him and he’d linger and chat. They fell into a pattern comfortable for both of them and for the kids. One evening Ralph confided in Jen about the traumatic loss of his wife in a fatal car accident when Julie was just a toddler. As he tearfully told her about his wife, Jen comforted him with a hug. That both experienced the terrible loss of loved ones created a silent bond.
When he suggested they all go away to a kid-friendly lodge in Saratoga, Jen realized it was just what she and Ricky needed. They hadn’t left the area since Kaylee died. Ralph booked two rooms, each for parent and child, and they were off.
“Mom?” Ricky said, sitting on the third step of the staircase.
“Yes, Sweetie?”
“Am I too old to bring Kaylee’s teddy bear—the one I’ve been sleeping with since… since she died? Do you think Julie will laugh at me?”
She got as close as she could without putting her arm around him, now that hugs were again off-limits.
“Julie won’t laugh at you, and its fine to bring the teddy. Besides, you and I will be sharing a room, and you can tuck him out of site if Ralph and Julie stop by. Okay?”
“Okay. We going soon?”
“They should be here any minute. Are you excited?”
“Yeah. And Mom…”
“Uh-huh?”
“Is Ralph going to be your boyfriend?”
She smiled. “I don’t know, but I do like him. But right now, he’s just a good friend.”
“So… not like Dad?”
“Not like Dad. At least not yet. But you never know.” As they drove out of town they passed the riverfront park. Jen could see a few young children playing in the water at the beach she would forever boycott. A lifeguard watched the kids as they horsed around, ignoring the dreary domes outlining the sky.
Chapter 45
It was one of the worst nuclear power plant disasters in the world. Six reactors in Japan toppled like dominoes after an earthquake, incredulously followed by a devastating tsunami. High levels of radiation were released into the atmosphere. People within fifty miles of the plant were forced to evacuate because a core meltdown was imminent. Fear spread throughout Japan and the world. For Americans living near nuclear power plants, the question was obvious: Could it happen here?
Cashing in on the disaster was a good opportunity for Chrissy. It had been a few months since she wrote the radioactive lake story, and she was frantic for work. She sent her resume to magazines and newspapers both locally and in New York City. No one was hiring. The editor at the Metro Record put her on the stringer list as a freelance writer. It meant being on call for work that was piecemeal, and the first call she got was to cover a cop killing in the Bronx. She struggled to write up the story tabloid-style, barely made the deadline, and the next day the story was changed completely. All she really cared about was her byline.
Now, in the aftermath of Fukushima, she could sell her expertise based on her stories about ALLPower. Would Metro be interested? Not really, they told her. The Japan story needed full-time, international reporters. Sorry.
What about the Daily Suburban? She couldn’t remember when she’d last seen Lou’s byline. These days someone else was writing about ALLPower—if you could call it writing. She knew Owen Marks was still the editor. She’d give it a shot and call him.
“Yeah. I’ve seen your byline,” Owen said. “What’s up?”
“I’d like to pitch you a story comparing ALLPower to the Japanese plant disaster—you do know I have experience writing about ALLPower, don’t you?”
“Job is already filled, Ms. Dolan.”
“Any openings to write straight news?”
Owen looked over at Lou’s empty desk.
“I don’t get it. Didn’t you sell out your own paper? Don’t you write for the Metro Record now?”
“Actually, I’m just freelancing. I could really use a full-time job. I don’t suppose Bob Stalinksy ever mentioned my name to you?”
As soon as she said it, she was sorry. Paybacks and favors died with the lake story.
“No. Should he have?”
“I guess not.”
“You don’t have a clue, do you, Ms. Dolan. Your reputation as a reporter in Westchester is dismal. If I hired you, how would I know you wouldn’t screw us like you did Al Areva? Me? I wouldn’t take the chance. Have a nice day.”
The phone clicked off. Chrissy was devastated. She was too pushy for her own good. Was her brief career as a reporter totally ruined? Something Lou said began to haunt her. Something about burning her bridges.
Chapter 46
Bob sat in the posh office of the high-priced PR firm on Madison Avenue. He was heady with power—there wasn’t anything he couldn’t make happen. Two reporters dared to write lies about ALLPower, and both had been fired. But here he was, still head honcho, more empowered than ever. The new campaign had started based on what he called the Fukushima syndrome, the highly charged skepticism about nuclear power newly fueled by the Japanese disaster.
“Here are a couple of new slogans, Mr. Stalinsky.” The young ad executive projected a PowerPoint presentation on the wall. “I like this one the best.”
CLEAN, SAFE, AND CRUCIAL.
It was good, catchy. The campaign would be built on those three words: “clean,” indicating nuclear was good for the environment; “safe,” the public doesn’t have to worry about—well, anything really; and “crucial,” for generating enough electricity to homes and businesses in the area and New York City. The slogan would create a strong, new media buzz. People would forget about the accidents, the problems.
The executives at ALLPower loved it. Bob gave them his most enthusiastic spiel and talked them into spending seven figures on the ad campaign. The part he loved the best? Unlimited funds for writers and bloggers to counter the anti-nuke cyber activity and pump out pro-nuke opinion letters on a daily basis.
The ad agency needed Bob to sign off on a series of radio and TV ads that would air immediately. He reviewed them all; each brilliant spot made him feel strong, immune to anyone who might jeopardize the future of nuclear power or his job ever again.