Lake News by Barbara Delinsky Read Free Book Online

Manhattan.”
    â€œWhat was he doing there?”
    â€œVisiting the Cardinal there. They both went to a reception at the mayor’s house. I was playing.”
    â€œYou played at the mayor’s house? I’m impressed.”
    â€œDon’t be. I was a Broadway wannabe and taught piano to pay the bills. His kids took lessons. That’s how he knew me.”
    â€œA Broadway wannabe,” Terry said, still sounding impressed. “No more?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œWere you in anything?”
    â€œA few ensembles. Nothing major.”
    â€œDo you dance, too?”
    â€œNot well enough.”
    â€œAh. I understand.” He let her off the hook. “So you met Cardinal Rossetti in the city and followed him to Albany?”
    She didn’t answer. After another minute of walking, she felt him looking at her. When she met his eye, he said, “Why the frown?”
    â€œThis feels like an interview.”
    â€œIt’s not. It’s just me, interested in you.”
    If she was frowning now, it was in skepticism.
    â€œI’ve never met a religious groupie before,” he teased.
    She sighed. “I’m not a religious groupie. I didn’t follow Cardinal Rosetti to Albany. I followed the mayor there.” She caught herself. “Ooops. That came out wrong.” She felt a tiny tightness at the back of her tongue and focused on relaxing it. With a single, slow, calming breath, it dissolved. Flawlessly, she explained, “My relationship was with his kids. They loved me, and they’d been shaken by the divorce. When he was elected governor, he had to move to Albany, and the kids went with him. He figured that if I kept teaching them, it would be one thing that didn’t change in their lives. When a position opened up in a private school there, the timing seemed right.”
    â€œSo you gave up on Broadway?”
    â€œIt gave up on me,” she said and slid him a wary look. “You’re smooth.”
    He tipped his head. “How?”
    â€œGetting me to talk after I said I wouldn’t.”
    â€œThis is what’s called a social conversation.” He held up his hands. “No pen, no paper. Strictly off-the-cuff. Like I say, the Cardinal intrigues me. So—he was the Bishop of Albany when you moved there?”
    Social conversation or not, Lily didn’t want to talk about herself or the Cardinal to Terry. But he did look intrigued. And Mitch Rellejik had vouched for him. And the question was innocent enough.
    So she said, “He was.”
    â€œAnd that’s where you really got to know him?”
    She nodded.
    â€œDid you ever dream he’d be a Cardinal one day?”
    She shook her head. “But I’m not surprised. Father Fran gets it.”
    â€œGets it?”
    â€œUnderstands people.”
    â€œYou saw that?”
    They had reached another corner and were waiting to cross. Traffic leaving the city sped by in a blur of lights and chrome. “He understood me,” she said. “I’ve been grappling with things. He’s been—” How to describe Fran Rossetti in a word? Friend? Adviser? Therapist? “He’s been a comfort.”
    â€œSo you followed him to Boston?”
    Her eyes flew to his. Here was the reporter again, more prodding than casual.
    Terry winced. “Sorry. Nothing untoward meant. Asking questions is a habit. I was always doing it as a kid, so I went into journalism. No other field would have me. It’s the tone. Hard to turn off, but I’ll try.”
    He sounded so sincere that Lily relented. “I followedhim to Boston only in the sense that I moved here soon after he did.”
    Terry didn’t say anything. When the light changed, they crossed the street and walked on.
    Still feeling guilty for overreacting, she volunteered, “Father Fran told me about the Essex Club. It was a step up from the club I played at in Albany, and Dan’s regular