Julie gave him a knowing smile. "Of course," she agreed. "About the press conference," Katherine said, turning serious and looking at Paul for advice, "where is it going to be, what time do you want to have it, and who should we notify?"
"What building around here can hold the biggest crowd?" Paul asked, his mind turning to the business at hand.
"The high school auditorium," Julie put in.
After a brief discussion it was decided the press conference should take place at three o'clock. Katherine volunteered to phone the high school principal, who would open up the school, and to call the mayor, who would then handle the press and any other arrangements. "Call Julie's brother Ted," Paul added as he put on his jacket. "Ask him to notify the rest of the sheriff's office so they can be there to keep the press from mobbing Julie if I can't hold them off alone." To Julie, he said, "Why don't you get dressed, then I'll drive you home so you'll have plenty of time to make whatever notes you'll need before you face the world via satellite and newsprint."
"What a terrifying way to put it," Katherine chided.
"It isn't terrifying at all," Julie astonished everyone, including herself, by saying. "It is maddening, and it is also absurd, but it isn't terrifying. I refuse to let them terrify me or intimidate me."
Paul's smile was filled with approval, but all he said was, "I'll go warm up the car while you get dressed. Katherine," he added with a lazy grin, "thank you for a lovely morning and a wonderful breakfast. I'll see you at the press conference."
When the front door closed behind him, Katherine turned to Julie and said bluntly, "In case you haven't noticed, that is one very special man. And he is crazy about you, Julie. That's obvious to anyone who looks closely." She winked then and added, "He also happens to be tall, dark, handsome, and extremely sexy—"
"Don't," Julie interrupted. "I don't want to hear all that."
"Why not?"
"Because he reminds me of Zack," she said simply. "He always has." She pulled off her apron and headed for the foyer.
"There are a few major differences between the two men," Katherine pointed out, following her up the staircase. "Paul Richardson isn't a criminal, he isn't an escaped convict, and instead of trying to break your heart, he's doing everything he can to shield and help you."
"I know," Julie sighed. "You're right about everything you said, except one thing: Zack is not a criminal. And before I put him completely out of my mind tomorrow, I intend to take care of something via 'satellite and newsprint' today."
"What's that?" Katherine said worriedly, following Julie partway into the guest bedroom she'd slept in last night.
"I intend to make absolutely certain the rest of the world knows that I don't think he killed anyone. Maybe if I do a good enough job at the press conference, public opinion might force the authorities to reopen the case!"
Katherine watched her peel off her robe. "You would still do that for him, even though he misused and hurt you as badly as he did?"
Julie gave her a winsome smile and nodded emphatically.
Turning, Katherine started to leave, then she turned back and said with a sigh, "If you're determined to make yourself into Zachary Benedict's spokesperson today, my advice is that you look your most beautiful. It's grossly unjust, but a lot of people are more swayed by a woman's looks than what she says."
"Thanks," Julie said, so filled with purpose now that she was completely devoid of nervousness and already mentally reviewing her wardrobe for the best thing to wear. "Any other advice?"
Katherine shook her head. "You'll be wonderful because you're sincere and you care, and that will show through everything you say and do today. It always does."
Julie scarcely heard her, she was searching for some strategy to accomplish her goal. She hit upon the idea of treating the incident—and the media—in a lighthearted way and paused, the clothing in her hand momentarily forgotten. A serious, formal accounting of the incident during which she would try to soften their attitude toward Zack would be best, she decided, followed by a relaxed, smiling attitude when the questions started coming at her.
Smiling. Lighthearted. Relaxed.
Zack was the actor, not she, and she didn't know how she was going to pull that off, but she was going to manage it somehow.
Chapter 49
In a Chicago penthouse overlooking Lake Shore Drive, Zack's former neighbor and best man, Matthew Farrell, looked up as his young daughter raced into the room, followed by her mother, and plunked herself on his lap. With her silky blond hair and blue eyes, Marissa's resemblance to her mother, Meredith, was already so striking that Matt grinned as he looked at both of his girls. "I thought it was nap time," he said to his daughter.
She looked at the glossy stock prospectus he'd been reading and obviously mistook it for one of her story books. "Story, Daddy. First. Please."
Before answering, he looked inquiringly at Meredith, who was president of Bancroft & Company, a large chain of exclusive department stores founded by her ancestors, and she gave him a helpless smile. "It's Sunday," she said. "Sundays are pretty special. I guess naps can wait a few minutes."
"Mommy says okay," he said, settling his daughter onto his lap as he thought of a story. Meredith saw amusement spark his eyes as she curled up in a chair across from the pair, and she realized the cause of it the moment Matt began his story:
"Once upon a time," he said in a very serious voice, "there was a beautiful princess who sat on a throne at Bancroft & Company."
"Mommy?" Marissa chirped.
"Mommy," he averred. "Now besides being beautiful and wonderful, this princess was very smart. But one day," he said in a tone of dire gravity, "she let a wicked, wicked banker talk her into investing some money into a company that—"
"Uncle Parker?" Marissa asked, grinning.
Meredith smothered a laugh at Matt's description of her former fiancé and said hastily, "Daddy's joking. Uncle Parker is not wicked."
"This is my story," Matt argued with a grin, then he continued. "Now it so happened that the princess's husband, who happens to know a lot about investing money, warned the princess not to listen to the wicked banker, but she did it anyway. In fact," he added in a deep, emphatic voice, "the princess was so sure she was right that she made a bet with her husband that the stock would go up, but it didn't. It closed down two points on Friday. And do you know what happens now that the princess lost the bet to her husband?"