It's News to Her by Helen R. Myers Page B

carried an ivory dress suit with a gold rose pin on the left shoulder. The pin was a cherished gift from Mr. Henry from last Christmas. He’d dubbed her his rose of KSIO as he’d assured her that she had her job as long as she wanted it.
    She already knew Tom and Fred were pleased with her text for the presentation because extensive communication between them had been done before she’d arrived.
    â€œHave you considered a future as a presidential speechwriter?” her director, Wade Spangler, asked minutes later when he entered the makeup room holding a hard copy of her announcement. “This is going to be played all over the country and probably on late-night TV tonight.”
    â€œWell, give it back,” Hunter told him, grabbing for the draft. “It’ll be easy enough to muddy up.” She was glad that Wade was pleased, but she was sensitive to exaggeration at this point, especially since she’d heardnothing from Cord, despite having fulfilled her promise to text him early.
    Wade snatched the sheets out of her reach. “Changes would have to be over my dead body. They’re loving it over at the inner sanctum. I just wanted a glimpse at what you were wearing so I could think lighting.” He nodded at the outfit Hunter had changed into. “Thank goodness your skin isn’t bone-white. Okay, Fred will pop in here momentarily to let you know that we’re set to put you on as our A-Close,” Wade said, referring to the last story in that programming block.
    Now dressed in her suit, Hunter nodded, knowing in this case that her announcement was timed to leave viewers moved.
    â€œCheck with Fred about the midday news,” he said, continuing to peruse his notes. “They want a recap instead of replaying the parcel, and to have you sitting in the guest seat beside Molly and Ed so they can pose a question or two. At that point, the whole country will have the news, and we don’t want to stay with a depressing tone, so they’ll shift over to yesterday and the commencement speech you gave. Is that okay with you?”
    â€œAs long as we don’t have to linger on why I moved from there, otherwise we will sink into a depressing topic again.”
    â€œDamn, you’re right.” Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “Hell, then try to think of something that’s coming up on your calendar that’s upbeat. Stay on your toes. It’ll all be fluid.”
    As he turned to leave, all droopy shouldered, Huntercalled, “Understood, coach. My money is on you to make me look good and hide the shadows under my eyes that this makeup isn’t covering very well.”
    â€œOh, please. Everybody should look so good,” Wade muttered as he exited the room.
    â€œSee, I told you that you’re still too young for it to show,” Linda, their makeup technician, said.
    She was about done as the morning crew entered, now dressed in their stage clothing, too. When she first joined the network, Hunter worked this shift and had an affection and empathy for their lot. They saw her as the next level to reach for and acted starstruck. Oddly, that added to her feelings of nostalgia and melancholy.
    When she was cued to take her seat, she made herself think only of the gentleman who would forever be her hallmark in the business. Upon cue, she began, “Good morning. On behalf of Yarrow Communications, KSIO and all of our sister stations across the country, it’s my sad responsibility to announce that our much-loved leader, mentor and the original visionary of YCI, Mr. Henry Yarrow, is retiring.
    â€œIt’s impossible to encapsulate in mere words what he has meant to me, let alone done for this giant family in communications. I was the novice fresh out of college when he brought me onboard here in San Antonio, and he guided me through my first days of the fascinating, treacherous and nerve-racking paces of TV news. When some said network TV was