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Authors: Mindy Starns Clark
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just as Lou had requested, until she got her next door neighbor to buzz her in and she was safely inside the building.
Thanks to the fact that the same neighbor kept a spare of her door key, soon Kelsey was in her kitchen in jeans and a loose sweater, making herself a hot cup of tea and counting the minutes until she could plop on the couch.
What a day.
What a nightmare.
The telephone had not stopped ringing since sheâd walked in the door, but she had no intention of talking to anyone right now. As the electric kettle came to a boil, the phone started to ring yet again. Leaning over to glance at the caller ID screen, she saw the name of a local newspaper. She listened for the pause after the third ring that told her the call was being routed to voice mail, and then she picked up the phone, turned it over, and flipped the button to shut off the ringer.
Finally, once her mug of tea was ready, she squeezed past the exercise equipment filling the space intended for a kitchen table and made her way over to the living room area of her small, one-bedroom apartment. With a heavy sigh, she sat down on the love seat and sipped her tea, eyes closed, trying to recover from all that had happened.
Outside, she could hear cars honking, tires rumbling, distant sirens wailingâeven the long, low horn of a ship out on the river. She loved living in Manhattan, especially this part of Manhattan, she thought as she set her mug down on a coaster on the end table and rested her head on the overstuffed arm of the little sofa. But at the moment she wished she were somewhere far away, maybe at her grandfatherâs house down at the Jersey shore, where life was simpler and slower and she always felt safe and loved.
Kelsey must have dozed off briefly, because when she opened her eyes with a start, she realized it was nearly dusk. Standing and stretching, she clicked on the lamp, crossed to the window to lower the blinds, and then reached for the TVâs remote control. Might as well see if the story of Adele had made the six oâclock news after all.
Half an hour later, sheâd caugh the story on all of the major networks and on a CNN offshoot. Fortunately, no one seemed to have any footage of the actual ruckus in the auditorium, but they had all managed to get cameras rolling by the time Rupert and the redhead were escorted from the building and put into the limo. Walter had done a pretty good job of speaking to the press after that, and the clip most of the stations had chosen to run had him attributing the incident to â Titanic fever run amok.â
All of the channels showed professional head shots of Adele and of Kelsey, but somehow CNN had managed to get hold of a full-length picture of Rupert as well. He wasnât exactly attractive in person, but the photo they had chosen made him look positively uglyânot to mention a tad deranged.A candid snapshot that looked as though it had been taken during a hunting trip, he was dressed in camouflage clothing, leg waders, and a grimy old sailorâs hat. Worse, in his hands he was cradling a shotgun. Either Brennan & Tate was lucky, or their PR firm was even smarter and faster than Kelsey had given them credit for. The juxtaposition of images spoke volumes about the truth behind the incident. Obviously, this was a case of some crazy, backwoods yokel coming to the big city and trying to cash in on the hard work of some very upstanding, highly respected business people, past and present, one of whom had even been a Titanic survivor in her youth.
Thinking about the way the media had portrayed things, Kelsey was relieved, but in a way she almost felt sorry for the guy yet again. If heâd acted out of maliciousness or ill-intent, then of course he deserved what he was getting. But as neither seemed to be the caseâthat he was, instead, simply a man in possession of some Titanic -sized delusionsâhe shouldnât have been made to look so foolish.
Refusing
Thanks to the fact that the same neighbor kept a spare of her door key, soon Kelsey was in her kitchen in jeans and a loose sweater, making herself a hot cup of tea and counting the minutes until she could plop on the couch.
What a day.
What a nightmare.
The telephone had not stopped ringing since sheâd walked in the door, but she had no intention of talking to anyone right now. As the electric kettle came to a boil, the phone started to ring yet again. Leaning over to glance at the caller ID screen, she saw the name of a local newspaper. She listened for the pause after the third ring that told her the call was being routed to voice mail, and then she picked up the phone, turned it over, and flipped the button to shut off the ringer.
Finally, once her mug of tea was ready, she squeezed past the exercise equipment filling the space intended for a kitchen table and made her way over to the living room area of her small, one-bedroom apartment. With a heavy sigh, she sat down on the love seat and sipped her tea, eyes closed, trying to recover from all that had happened.
Outside, she could hear cars honking, tires rumbling, distant sirens wailingâeven the long, low horn of a ship out on the river. She loved living in Manhattan, especially this part of Manhattan, she thought as she set her mug down on a coaster on the end table and rested her head on the overstuffed arm of the little sofa. But at the moment she wished she were somewhere far away, maybe at her grandfatherâs house down at the Jersey shore, where life was simpler and slower and she always felt safe and loved.
Kelsey must have dozed off briefly, because when she opened her eyes with a start, she realized it was nearly dusk. Standing and stretching, she clicked on the lamp, crossed to the window to lower the blinds, and then reached for the TVâs remote control. Might as well see if the story of Adele had made the six oâclock news after all.
Half an hour later, sheâd caugh the story on all of the major networks and on a CNN offshoot. Fortunately, no one seemed to have any footage of the actual ruckus in the auditorium, but they had all managed to get cameras rolling by the time Rupert and the redhead were escorted from the building and put into the limo. Walter had done a pretty good job of speaking to the press after that, and the clip most of the stations had chosen to run had him attributing the incident to â Titanic fever run amok.â
All of the channels showed professional head shots of Adele and of Kelsey, but somehow CNN had managed to get hold of a full-length picture of Rupert as well. He wasnât exactly attractive in person, but the photo they had chosen made him look positively uglyânot to mention a tad deranged.A candid snapshot that looked as though it had been taken during a hunting trip, he was dressed in camouflage clothing, leg waders, and a grimy old sailorâs hat. Worse, in his hands he was cradling a shotgun. Either Brennan & Tate was lucky, or their PR firm was even smarter and faster than Kelsey had given them credit for. The juxtaposition of images spoke volumes about the truth behind the incident. Obviously, this was a case of some crazy, backwoods yokel coming to the big city and trying to cash in on the hard work of some very upstanding, highly respected business people, past and present, one of whom had even been a Titanic survivor in her youth.
Thinking about the way the media had portrayed things, Kelsey was relieved, but in a way she almost felt sorry for the guy yet again. If heâd acted out of maliciousness or ill-intent, then of course he deserved what he was getting. But as neither seemed to be the caseâthat he was, instead, simply a man in possession of some Titanic -sized delusionsâhe shouldnât have been made to look so foolish.
Refusing
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