Trust Me on This - Jennifer Crusie [8]
And she was going to start with the biggest risk of all: She was going to approach Janice Meredith.
She waited until the three got up and parted company at the door of the restaurant, and then she followed her quarry to the elevator. Dennie jammed her hand in the closing doors and slid through the opening, smiling her best Hi-tell-me-about-your-wedding smile at the startled woman.
“Professor Meredith,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Dennie Banks, and I’m so pleased to meet you. I’ve enjoyed your work so much.”
“Thank you.” Janice Meredith took her hand cautiously and dropped it almost immediately.
“That’s why I’d like to interview you,” Dennie said. “I couldn’t help but overhear you at lunch today—”
The woman’s cool reserve froze immediately into iceberg disgust.
“—and I think what you said is terribly important,” Dennie said hurriedly. “I think you have an important message for women in your position—”
The woman took a step back, and Dennie speeded up even more.
“—and I would be honored to be the writer who—”
“Miss Banks,” Janice Meredith said coldly. “If I want a message sent, I will be the one to send it. And I might add, reputable journalists do not get their stories through eavesdropping.”
“No, no,” Dennie said, waving her hands. “I had the story before. I was looking for you. I came to this conference specifically to see you. To interview you about this.”
She stopped because the woman’s face had gone white. “It’s out then,” she whispered to herself. “Everybody knows.”
“No, no,” Dennie said again, frantically this time. “I only found out because I interviewed Tallie Gamble and—”
“And you want to do a comparison interview with the two of us?” The iceberg suddenly flared into a propane torch. “No. Not while I have breath, do you understand?”
“No, that’s not it—” Dennie began, but the elevator doors were open, and Janice Meredith stormed out, her rage making her deaf to any argument.
Dennie leaned back in the elevator and closed her eyes.
Not good. She felt her panic rise and told herself to stay calm. This was what risking was all about. It was a setback, not a failure. All she had to do was analyze what she’d done wrong.
Well, first, she’d been dumb. She was used to people who wanted to talk to her, who were dying to describe the centerpieces at their anniversary parties. She should have been more convincing. Second, she should have known that the serenity Janice Meredith had shown in the restaurant was at least partly a cover for her pain. She should have been more careful. And approaching her in the elevator, that had been stupid too. Think from now on, she told herself.
All right. She was going to have to wait until the woman had calmed down before she could even hope to approach her, and even then it was going to be tough. Somehow, she had to convince her of her sincerity. Somehow, she had to show Janice Meredith that she was a reputable journalist, a sympathetic ear. Of course the woman wouldn’t talk to just anybody about this. Even if she was committed to a new life of risking, that didn’t mean the wounds from the old life weren’t still fresh.
But if a friend approached her … If a friend told her that this marvelous journalist wanted to present her side of the story … If a friend—
Somehow, she had to get an introduction from somebody Janice Meredith trusted.
There had been two of them in the restaurant. Trella and Victoria. There might be several Victorias in the pop literature program, but Dennie was willing to bet there’d be only one Trella. And while Victoria looked sharp, Trella had been only marginally sentient, much like the two guys who’d tried to pick her up in the lobby. Trella was the one to go for.
She punched the button for the lobby and went to pick up her bag and find a program and get her racing heart back under control.
Alec was back sitting in his favorite seat by the brass archway to the bar when the brunette crossed the lobby again. At last, he thought. She’d been