Eyes Only by Fern Michaels Page B

ever known. And yet they seemed genuinely concerned about Gretchen Spyder. He didn’t know if he was glad or not that he’d opted not to tell them more about Greg Albright.
    Zack’s shoulders slumped as he made his way to the second floor. He needed to get a move on since he had an aerobics class for a group of senior citizens at eight thirty, followed by a class in ballroom dancing for the same group of seniors. He always enjoyed the classes with the oldsters, all of whom claimed to have two left feet. Which, he’d come to find out, was true. Secretly, he thought some of them came just for the coffee and doughnuts and the socializing. Whatever, he had to get a move on. He crossed his fingers the way he had when he was a child in the hope that things would go well in regard to Gretchen Spyder and the Domingo family. And, of course, Greg Albright.
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    Maggie Spritzer was a whirlwind as she raced through her duties as editor in chief of the Washington Post. She delegated tasks, signed her name a dozen different places, scanned the morning’s front page, and nodded in approval. As an afterthought as she munched on a banana, she watered the plants in her office. And all this was done while she was still wearing her rain gear. She opened the door to check on the boys, who were standing in a straight line, their arms crossed over their chests, waiting for her. Their expressions clearly said, “What’s taking so long?”
    â€œYou guys ready?” Maggie asked breathlessly. “You know, Ted, that was a brilliant idea you had for the front page. Annie is going to love it.”
    Ted basked in his beloved’s praise. “It was Espinosa and Dennis’s idea. I just ran with it and wrote it.”
    â€œI like the idea of a prize of a Barnes & Noble Nook for the first ten people who can name the woman you wrote about. By the end of the week, Countess Anna de Silva will be a household name. Let’s just hope that someone on Spyder Island reads our paper,” Maggie said.
    â€œEveryone reads the Post, ” Dennis said confidently. “I think you can take off your raincoat, Maggie. The sun is out. April showers bring May flowers, and all that.” Dennis chortled. “Who’s driving?”
    â€œMe,” Espinosa said, raising his hand. “Anyone in favor of stopping somewhere for some takeout we can eat in the car on the way out to the farm?”
    Settled in the Post van, Maggie leaned back and started to talk. “What’s your honest opinion of Zack Phillips? We really didn’t talk about him last night, and we all slept on the flight home.”
    â€œSeemed okay to me,” Espinosa said as he hit the highway.
    â€œSomething was off-key,” Ted said.
    â€œI think he knew something he didn’t tell us. I don’t think he gave us the full skinny on everything,” Dennis said.
    â€œI agree. I think he knows exactly where Greg Albright, the baby daddy, is,” Maggie said. “My gut tells me that even if we pulled out his toenails, he won’t give it up, either. He’s a loyal friend. I understand that and admire him for his loyalty.”
    â€œI didn’t get that feeling,” Espinosa grumbled.
    â€œThat’s because you don’t have a reporter’s instincts. Didn’t you pick up anything with your photographer’s eye?” Ted demanded.
    â€œNo, I didn’t,” Espinosa grumbled again as he turned on his blinker to hit a burger house that claimed to have the best hamburgers in the state of Virginia. They loaded up with killer fries, burgers, and fruit pies and added diet sodas to make up for their fat intake.
    The foursome ate with gusto. Bad manners or not, they kept up a running conversation about what was going on, with Dennis asking for explicit clarification as to why they were so interested in a man like Angus Spyder when it was the Domingos they should be concentrating