only gave you a job, but since the housekeeper at the time wasn’t living here, she let us live in this bungalow when none of the other maids got that kind of accommodation,” Tanya said, repeating what her mother had said many times as she’d grown up. Then she continued with what she knew JoBeth was going to say. “Mrs. McCord promoted you from maid to housekeeper to overseeing the whole staff. She gave you flexible hours whenever I was sick or you wanted to go to my school meetings and functions. She wrote my recommendation letter to college and to the scholarship committee that paid my tuition for four years. I haven’t forgotten any of that.”
“But now you’ll try to dig up dirt on the McCords to get yourself more on-air time? That’s not right.”
They were at the kitchen table with coffee and toast, both of them in their bathrobes, not long out of bed. JoBeth had Sunday mornings off and Tanya regretted that rather than relaxing, her mother was stressed about this.
“I’m not going to dig up dirt,” she assured JoBeth, deciding to put a positive spin on the turn of events to ease her mother’s mind. “Some of this even came at the suggestion of Tate, who also talked to the station owner—that’s why I won’t be doing anything but devoting myself to this for a while. Tate is going to be walking me through the family history, including the reasons why there’s a problem with anyone named Foley—which I’ve never understood. Hopefully, he’ll let me have an insider’s look that will include finding the Santa Magdalena diamond—if they actually do—and it will all give me a leg up here in Dallas. So really, this is still a lot like the little extra help Mrs. McCord has given along the way—think of it like that.”
But apparently Tanya’s mother was not won over by that argument because JoBeth narrowed her dark eyes at Tanya, increasing the lines that fanned out from their corners. “These people are my employers, Tanya. I’m dependent on them for my livelihood. For my whole day-to-day existence.”
“And I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that.” If what she’d done Friday night didn’t count…
But suddenly Tanya took stock of JoBeth sitting across from her at the tiny table they’d eaten most of their meals on.
Her mother worked long hours that had aged her—something Tanya saw in the single shock of prematurely white hair at JoBeth’s temple. But Tanya knew that her mother was not only grateful for the job, JoBeth enjoyed it and the camaraderie and closeness of the household staff that went with it.
And if that hair that was down now would soon be in a bun that was as tightly wound as her mother had always had to be, that control was something Tanya knew her mother took pride in. If the milkiness of JoBeth’s skin was evidence that vacation sun rarely touched it, it wasn’t for want of time off, it was because JoBeth preferred her routine here to sitting on a Caribbean beach. If JoBeth’s slight pudginess came from caring for the McCords rather than paying attention to exercise or cautious eating for herself, Tanya knew that her mother would say it was a treat to get to taste the delicacies prepared by the McCords’ chef.
And Tanya was also well aware of the fact that while the cottage with its two small bedrooms and this area that combined kitchen and living room was hardly luxury living, her mother loved the housekeeper’s bungalow and considered it her home—a home she’d refused to leave even when Tanya had tried to persuade her to move to California with her.
Which all added up to more than a livelihood that JoBeth didn’t want to lose, it was the life her mother had made for herself. And Tanya realized even more than she had before that she had to be careful not to do anything that would compromise that or put it at risk.
“Who better to do this story?” she said to her mother then. “I’m obligated to report on any skeletons I might find in the McCord closets, but I won’t sensationalize them. I’ll do a fair and honest piece that will come primarily from information Tate relays—so you know there aren’t going to be a lot of negatives in the mix—and I won’t go searching for them the way someone else might. I’ll take what Tate gives, hope it all leads to the bigger story of the discovery of the diamond and leave it at that.”
“Tate,” her mother echoed. “You shouldn’t be imposing on him. He has too much on his mind as it is. Since his friend died in Iraq, since he came back from there himself, he’s troubled, Tanya. You can’t be bothering him to get yourself—”
“He offered, Mama. I won’t be bothering him.”
“He offered?” JoBeth parroted ominously.
“He volunteered,” Tanya amended because she’d caught the sudden switch in her mother’s concerns. Now it wasn’t the McCords who JoBeth was worried about, it was Tanya. And that was a more fierce protectiveness.
“You’re a beautiful girl, Tanya—”
“Says my mother.” Tanya dismissed the compliment.
“Tate has eyes.”
“And a fiancée,” Tanya reminded. Then, in an attempt to calm her mother’s fears, she said, “Tate is engaged to Katie Whitcomb-Salgar—the person he’s been promised to since they played together in the sandbox. And it wouldn’t matter even if they hadn’t finally gotten engaged—I know better than to get involved with Tate McCord, of all people. This is strictly business. For both of us. He’s going to walk me through some family history and give me the exclusive on the outcome of whatever it is that’s going on with the Santa Magdalena diamond—that’s all there is to it. There’s nothing personal in it for either of us.”
“For your own sake, you’d better make sure of that,” JoBeth said, her round face reflecting the fact that Tanya had failed to ease her mind. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I won’t get hurt, Mama. I told you, it’s strictly business.”
JoBeth stared at her for a long moment as if she were hoping to be able to see the future in Tanya’s face. Then, with no indication of whether or not she thought she had, she took her obvious concerns and her crossword puzzle into the living room.
Tanya interpreted that as a sign that her mother was tentatively accepting what she’d told her.
But while she stayed where she was at the kitchen table to finish her breakfast, Tanya was still thinking about it all.
This was strictly business between her and Tate—she hadn’t said that simply to appease JoBeth. Tanya had outgrown wanting to be a McCord a long time ago. Yes, as a very young, starry-eyed girl she’d fantasized about being a part of what went on at the big house. But as soon as her mother had realized that was what she was doing, JoBeth had taken measures to keep Tanya’s feet firmly planted on the ground. And ultimately—eventually—Tanya had come to see for herself that the McCords’ life was not a life she wanted.
Of course mountains of money would be nice, but other than that? The McCords were under constant scrutiny, their every movement watched. They were talked about and criticized, envied and resented. And none of that appealed to Tanya.
Plus, the McCords existed in an insular world where everything remained the same from generation to generation. Where the names, the faces, the cliques never changed. Where new blood was seldom let in. Where some fight, started long, long ago for reasons Tanya wasn’t sure even they knew, was still burning. It all just seemed so stagnant to her.
And in keeping with that, Tate was engaged to Katie Whitcomb-Salgar—the
