Lake News by Barbara Delinsky Page A

hadn’t yet arrived. She pushed cereal around in a bowl until she was too late to delay longer, but she knew not to leave the elevator when it reached the ground floor. The brass panels that housed the doors reflected the outer lobby. Even allowing for distortion, there looked to be a whole handful of reporters out there now.
    Appalled, she took the elevator down to the garage and slipped out the back unnoticed. Hurrying down Newbury Street, she cut through the Public Garden and reached school in record time. The teachers’ lounge was empty when she arrived, but she had barely poured a cup of coffee when a bell rang to mark the end of the first period. Within minutes, several faculty members wandered in. Since they weren’t ones she knew well, the murmuring among themselves was normal. Reasoning that if they hadn’t seen the Post, they might never be the wiser, she ignored their glances.
    Peter Oliver was something else. She was stirring powdered cream into her coffee when he walked in and stopped short. “Whoa. The lady of the hour.” Sidling up until they were shoulder to shoulder, he reached for a cup and spoke under his breath. “You had me worried there. I was starting to think I’d lost my touch when you kept refusing me. Now it makes sense.”
    Lily felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. Her tongue tightened up.
    â€œThe Post story?” he prompted. “Is it true?”
    She shook her head.
    A different voice said a low “Lily.”
    Her eyes flew to the door. Michael Eddy, headmaster of the school, was short, with a gentle paunch and a normally round, friendly face. The friendly part was strained now. He motioned her to follow.
    Leaving her coffee where it stood, she crossed through the reception area to the headmaster’s office. Michael had barely closed the door when he said, “Is it true?”
    She shook her head, shook it fast and hard.
    â€œAny of it?”
    She swallowed and forced her throat to relax. “No.”
    â€œYou’re quoted there.”
    â€œOut of context.”
    â€œDid you say those things?”
    â€œNot like that. And not on the record.” When Michael closed his eyes in a gesture of defeat, Lily’s anger reared up. “I’ve ttttt…” She took a breath, focused on untying her tongue, said more smoothly, “I’ve tried calling the man who wrote it. He’ll have to retract it. It isn’t true.”
    Michael raised his head and sighed. “Well. As long as you’ve denied it, I’ll be able to answer the parents who call. Several already have. I wish you hadn’t given the paper the name of the school.”
    â€œI didn’t!”
    â€œThen how did they get it?”
    â€œI don’t knnn-know.” Another breath, and the return of control. “I guess the same way they learned that I went to NYU. I graduated with honors. They didn’t sss-say that. Or that I got a degree from Juilliard. Or that the only reason I went to the Governor’s Mansion twice a week was to give piano lessons to his kids. Or that the governor was never there when I was.” She pushed a hand into her hair. It stopped midway and hung on. The reality she had been trying to ignore was finally taking root. “This is all over Boston. All over the state .” She was feeling the horror of it when her eyes met Michael’s. “I have to reach the Cardinal.”
    He gestured toward the desk, offering her the phone.
    She punched out the number she had called earlier. It was still busy. “Oh God,” she breathed, frightened. “This could ruin him.” She looked at Michael. “What do I do?”
    â€œHire a lawyer.”
    â€œBut this is just a mistake.” She didn’t want to think it was malicious—couldn’t believe that Terry Sullivan would go to this kind of extreme just because she had refused to be interviewed—couldn’t believe that