Read Online Lake News by Barbara Delinsky - Free Book Online

Sullivan’s treachery notwithstanding, the article was nothing more than a bad judgment call on the part of the Post, that the Cardinalwould raise Cain and get a retraction printed, that the whole matter would be quickly forgotten.
    She tried to call him again, but the line was still busy.
    With five minutes to spare before a piano lesson, she went to the cafeteria for a cold drink. The first lunch period was under way. One step into the large, high-ceilinged room and she heard the sudden drop of conversation, felt the force of dozens of pairs of eyes.
    It isn’t true, she wanted to say, but her tongue was tight. So she simply shook her head and gestured no, got her drink, and left. By the time her student arrived at the practice room, she had recomposed herself, but she knew what his curious look meant.
    â€œThe Post article,” she told him, “is wrong. The Cardinal is a friend, nothing more.”
    â€œI believe you,” the boy said. He was sixteen, a lacrosse player struggling to fulfill an art requirement by taking piano lessons that he hated, but he did sound sincere.
    So she set the Post story aside and tried to focus on his lesson and two others that followed, but she kept expecting an office assistant to cut in with a message from the Cardinal saying that everything was fine, that he would handle it, that she shouldn’t worry.
    The door remained shut for everything but the departure of one student and the arrival of the next, and when the three lessons were done, she tried the Cardinal again, still with no luck.
    Fortunately, she wasn’t hungry. She didn’t want to face a cafeteria full of stares until a retraction appeared, an apology was issued, and the Post had egg on its face. She might laugh along with the rest then, but not now—norat two-thirty, when her girls’ a cappella chorus met. Each of the twelve was sober and staring. Clearly they knew about the article.
    She stood before them, aware that her shoulders were drooping but unable to help it. She was starting to feel the strain. Quietly, she said, “Questions?” When the girls were silent, she said, “I’ll answer the one you won’t ask. The Cardinal is a man of the Church. He would no more have an affair with me than I would have one with him.” She looked from one face to the next until she saw a modicum of acceptance, then she reached for printouts of a new song and handed each trio of voices its part.
    The practice went well. At other times Lily coached a larger mixed chorus, of freshmen and sophomores, but the small, upper-class groups, one male and one female, were her favorites. Some of the students had wonderful voices. The idea that she could train them was a gratifying one.
    By the time the hour ended, she was starting to feel like herself again. Then she got through to the Cardinal’s secretary.
    Father McDonough was a young priest who had landed the plum assignment in Brighton as a result of his attention to detail and his endless good nature. The Cardinal relied on him heavily. As for Lily, she knew the man only by name and voice.
    After identifying herself, she said with relief, “Thank goodness. Your line’s been tied up. What’s going on?”
    â€œI take it you saw the story.”
    â€œYes. The reporter was at the club last night. He toldme he was a fan of the Cardinal. We got to talking. He took words here and there and fabricated a story.”
    â€œWell, it’s made an awful mess.”
    â€œBut it’s all false.” And nonsensical. “Does the Cardinal know Terry Sullivan?” Maybe their paths had crossed. Maybe there was some personal enmity.
    â€œHe knows him now. We’ve had calls from everywhere.”
    â€œHas he demanded a retraction?”
    â€œOur lawyers have,” came the reply, and for the first time Lily realized that the voice was cooler than usual.
    â€œOh. Shhh-ould I hire a lawyer?” She wanted him