*In which characters from RIVERSIDE PARK previously appeared.
*In which characters from RIVERSIDE PARK previously appeared.
*In which characters from RIVERSIDE PARK previously appeared.
*In which characters from RIVERSIDE PARK previously appeared.
*In which characters from RIVERSIDE PARK previously appeared.
*In which characters from RIVERSIDE PARK previously appeared.
*In which characters from RIVERSIDE PARK previously appeared.
*In which characters from RIVERSIDE PARK previously appeared.
*In which characters from RIVERSIDE PARK previously appeared.
*In which characters from RIVERSIDE PARK previously appeared.
Riverside Park
Laura Van Wormer
For
Dianne Moggy whose gifts as a publisher are many.
And with much love and appreciation to Loretta Barrett, Nick Mullendore, Gabriel Davis and Christine Robinson.
In thy face I see the map of honor, truth, and loyalty.
—William Shakespeare,
King Henry VI
CONTENTS
THANKSGIVINGI
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
DECEMBERII
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
JANUARYIII
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
FEBRUARYIV
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
MARCHV
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
APRILVI
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
WHILE CASSY COCHRAN wrapped her hair in a towel, she felt a kiss on the small of her back. She straightened up and smiled as arms slid around her waist to hold her from behind.
“So where do they think you are?”
“The office, to pick something up.” Cassy turned around, allowing herself to be kissed. “As soon as they take off I’ll come by to pick you up.” She wanted to say something else but was prevented from doing so. For about twenty minutes.
And then she had to shower all over again.
1
Thanksgiving Dinner at the Darenbrooks’
BEFORE DINNER CASSY asked everyone to please hold hands during grace.
“Who’s Grace?” someone said.
“Wait, wait!” pleaded a young second cousin of her husband’s. “Look, look,” she cried, jumping up to show everyone around the table the most recent issue of City Style. While Cassy exchanged looks with her husband, the fifteen guests politely admired the sight of the Darenbrooks splashed across the cover like movie stars. “Marriage of the Media,” it said above their smiling faces. “Cassy Cochran and Jackson Darenbrook,” it said below.
Their photograph might as well have been shot through linoleum for all the reality quotient it possessed. Instead of fifty-three and fifty-eight years old, the Darenbrooks looked on the far side of thirty. (There’s nothing worse, in publishers’ minds, than a life of grace, ease and luxury wasted on people readers could not imagine sleeping with.) The article was flattering, too. Cassy was billed as the stunningly good-looking woman of humble Iowa beginnings who dodged a career in front of the camera to become the founding president of the DBS Television network. Jackson was described as the brilliant Georgia heir who turned his father’s newspapers into the massive empire Darenbrook Communications was today.
The Darenbrooks, according to City Style, had the world at their feet.
The article breezed over Cassy’s divorce from producer Michael Cochran (and altogether skipped his alcoholism and how, the minute he got sober, he had dumped her), and mentioned the tragic accidental death of Jackson’s first wife, Barbara (and graciously omitted how Jackson dumped his children on his sister so he could become an international playboy).
“Perhaps we can look at it after dinner,” Cassy suggested.
The second cousin reluctantly took the hint (she did not get out much in East Binsley, Georgia), and leaned over to drop the magazine under her chair.
“Oh, Lord,” Jackson began, his drawl pulling farther South than usual, “we thank you for this food we are about to receive and we thank you for allowing us to spend this special day of Thanksgiving together.” Cassy’s husband had wonderful cornflower-blue eyes and a ready smile. He was a tall, very well built man with an enviously thick head of hair that was real. “We ask that you bless and watch over our loved ones who cannot be with us today, both in heaven and on earth.”
Jackson’s voice trailed off and everybody waited.
“Merciful God,” he continued, “please help the United States to be healed as a nation, and teach us to bring light and love to places of darkness and hate. Thank you, Lord, for your love and countless blessings for which we are so grateful. Amen.”
“Amen,” Cassy murmured, opening her eyes. “Very nice, Jack.” She pressed the button under the