Page 40 of Prime Time

“No,” Les laughed. His blue eyes were sparkling behind the lenses of his glasses. “They want to see the interviews before they make a firm offer, but they’re very interested. The management of the cable company is willing to sell them if they get credit for them.”

Andy wondered why she wasn’t dancing with jubilation. This was her dream come true. This is what she had worked for, hoped for, for years. Why was she only moderately happy? Les was looking at her quizzically. Play the part, Andy. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “Les, that is wonderful!” she exclaimed and hoped that her words didn’t ring as hollow in his ears as they did in hers.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Lyon said with all the repugnance and scorn in the world wrapped around his exit line. He stalked through the door that led into the kitchen. Andy kn

ew Les was still watching her carefully, so she refrained from looking after him mournfully. Every impulse in her body was urging her to run to him. Later, when this is over with, I’ll make him understand.

Les snapped his fingers in front of her nose. “Hey, remember me?”

She looked up with a smile that she thought might very well crack her face. “Ready for coffee?” she said brightly, turning toward the same door Lyon had used.

“Not so fast,” Les said, grabbing her arm and turning her around. “What’s going on here?”

“W—what do you mean?” She hoped her perplexed expression looked more genuine than it felt.

“I mean that something here isn’t right, and I want to know what it is.”

“Les, you’re shooting in the dark,” she said trying to pass off her alarm as impatience. Les mustn’t find out, mustn’t guess. “What could be wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, eyeing her with clinical bemusement. “But I intend to find out. Like why did you look like you’d seen a ghost when you came barrelling down the stairs? That in itself was unlike you. I’m thrilled that you’re glad to see me, but something—”

“Les, really, you’re going daft. Ever since I came down here, you’ve been talking like Ellery Queen, searching for clues to something that doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah, helluva coincidence, isn’t it? That I started acting like a whacko the minute you got to Texas.”

She was saved from making a reply when Jeff pushed through the kitchen door. “Hey, Les! Gracie said you were here. It’s a real occasion when you pry yourself away from that garbage heap you call a desk.”

Les expounded on the whys and wherefores of his unexpected appearance, which Andy knew to be contrived. He was there for one reason and one reason only. To check up on her.

She was relieved that Lyon had excused himself from having breakfast with them. He had already left for his day’s work on the ranch by the time she, Les, and Jeff filed into the dining room to join the rest of the crew. Over Gracie’s delicious breakfast they discussed the taping session planned for that day.

“We should be able to finish up by tomorrow afternoon,” Andy said. “We’ll do the interview by the river tomorrow morning. That will be the last one. Jeff, have you got enough B roll?”

Les made suggestions and asked to watch the tapes already “in the can.” As they were draining their last cups of coffee General Ratliff wheeled into the dining room. He had taken his meal in his room. As always he was impeccably groomed, but Andy didn’t like his color. His complexion had a waxy sheen that concerned her.

She introduced him to Les, who responded politely and quietly. She left them to get acquainted while the crew went about setting up their equipment in the living room and she went upstairs to dress and apply her makeup.

Half an hour later they were ready to begin. She was well into her introductory remarks when Les interrupted. “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” he said. Jeff cursed and raised his head from the viewfinder of his camera. “General, excuse me but you don’t look like a military man,” Les said. “Don’t you have a uniform or anything?”

“We’ve already discussed that with the general, Les,” Andy said smoothly. “He prefers not to wear one.”

“Why?” Bluntness was one of Les’s virtues—or vices.

“Because, for one thing, they’re forty years old and he hasn’t had them on since he retired.”

“Then couldn’t he just hold one, or have one hanging behind him or something?”

“General?” Andy asked softly. “Would you object to that?”

“I suppose not,” he said. He gave her a tired smile and patted her hand. “If you want to hang a uniform behind me, that will be fine.”

“Great!” Les said, clapping his hands together. “Where’s Gracie?”

“I’ll get a uniform.” Andy was relieved that Lyon wasn’t in the room when they started. She didn’t realize that he had come in until he spoke. She watched as he stamped from the room to find the uniform that she damned Les for mentioning.

Gil took advantage of the break to adjust the general’s microphone higher on his lapel. His voice wasn’t as strong today as it had been. Gil was just stepping back when Lyon came in carrying a general’s uniform that smelled faintly of mothballs, but was pressed and in mint condition.

She caught Lyon’s eye as he hung it behind them where Les directed him. Silently she pleaded for him to understand the reason for everything that she had done from the time she had left his arms to run to Les. But looking into his eyes was like looking into mirrors. She could see only a distressed reflection of herself and not into the soul of the man she loved.

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