It Only Takes a Moment Read Free Page B

Murphy and her family are coming over, too.”
    “Sounds good,” said Range. “Let me talk to Louise and get back to you, all right?”
    “Fine.”
    Eliza continued on her way to her office. Paige Tintle, her assistant, was waiting in the reception area.
    “For your reading pleasure,” Paige said, handing Eliza a legal-size folder.
    Eliza opened the folder and perused the first few documents. “How bad is it this month?” she asked.
    “Not bad at all,” said Paige. “In fact, it’s pretty much a lovefest.”
    Eliza carried the folder to her desk and sat down. She spent more than half an hour reading through the various articles that the clipping service had provided. There was an article from Good Housekeeping that included pictures of Eliza and Janie making cookies in the kitchen in Ho-Ho-Kus; and there was an article in Woman’s Day that chronicled a day in her life, starting with hosting KTA in the morning, following her around the Broadcast Center afterward, and accompanying her home to meet Janie. A story in People Español highlighted the fact that she had a Guatemalan housekeeper and had taken pictures of Mrs. Garcia at work and with her family, who lived in a nearby town. But it was the piece in Vanity Fair that went into extraordinary detail about Eliza’s background, her youth in Rhode Island, where her parents still lived; her rise througha succession of local stations on her way to the network; her marriage to John Blake, his tragic death, and the nervous collapse she had suffered after giving birth to their child.
    Eliza closed the folder. She wasn’t ashamed of that painful period in her life, but she certainly didn’t want to be reminded of it.

CHAPTER 7
    M rs. Garcia crossed the camp parking lot and walked around the front of the station wagon. Janie ran ahead.
    “Get in the front seat, Janie,” called Mrs. Garcia.
    Janie turned and looked at her quizzically. “The front? I’m supposed to sit in the back.”
    “It’s all right this time, Janie,” said Mrs. Garcia. “Do as I say and sit in the front seat with me.”
    Janie shrugged but got into the front seat of the car and instinctively reached for the shoulder harness, securing it around her waist. As soon as Mrs. Garcia turned the ignition key, Jane began peppering her with questions.
    “What are we going to do? Where are we going? Is Mommy meeting us there?”
    “Oye, hija, please be quiet. I have to pay attention,” said Mrs. Garcia as she eased the car through the camp gates.
    “Pay attention to what?”
    “Pay attention to my driving,” answered Mrs. Garcia.
    There was a puzzled expression on Janie’s face. Usually, Mrs. Garcia was happy when they rode in the car together. Sometimes they sangSpanish songs and sometimes they played games. Mrs. Garcia would point out something along the road and teach Janie the word for it in Spanish. But today, Mrs. Garcia looked very worried or very mad. Janie couldn’t decide which one.
    “Look, Mrs. Garcia,” said Janie, trying to get the woman’s attention and approval. “Look at the necklace I made this morning.”
    Mrs. Garcia glanced over at the beads that encircled Janie’s neck.
    “Very nice,” she said.
    “See? The beads have letters on them. It spells my name. J-A-N-I-E.” The child patted the beads with satisfaction and waited for her caretaker’s reaction.
    But Mrs. Garcia didn’t respond.
    “What’s that?” asked Janie, pointing to a squirrel running across the winding country road.
    “Una ardilla, ” answered Mrs. Garcia.
    “And that?” Janie gestured toward a crumbling stone wall at the side of the road.
    “Un muro de piedra. ”
    Janie looked out at the unfamiliar stretch of road. “Hey,” she protested. “This isn’t the way home.”
    “We’re not going home, mi hija. ”
    “Then where are we going?” asked Janie. As she leaned forward in her seat and turned her head, trying to get a full look at Mrs. Garcia’s face, Janie caught a glimpse of