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"This is off the record," Kennedy snaps. "I'm engaged in a personal conversation with the daughter of a close friend. It is most emphatically not for public consumption. If you have recorded our discussion..." This is just great, Leida thinks. I decide to make Jill Kendal the focus of my story, I drive 30 miles to interview her, and then I find out that world-class pompous asshole J. Stanton Kennedy is acting as her gatekeeper. But she maintains her composure and actually manages what she hopes is a warm smile. "Oh, no, we haven't recorded anything yet," she soothes. "I was just coming over to see if I could ask Jill a couple of questions about the race." She looks at Jimmy for confirmation, but Jimmy appears to be distracted, as if he's not really working, just following Leida around. "But now you've got me curious," Leida says, adroitly changing the subject. "How do you happen to know Jill's father?" Kennedy glances at the camera, and Leida can tell that he's trying to decide whether to accept her assurances. Jimmy seems to be panning the camera absently, as if he's waiting for something to happen that's worthy of his attention. "Well," Kennedy finally says, "it's really quite simple. About... what, fifteen years ago? Anyway, many years ago, G.W. Kendal was in need of some capital to expand his awl bidness." He suppresses a smirk, but Leida can see that he's pleased with his imitation. "Unfortunately, he was unable to find a single banker in the entire state of Texas willing to finance his harebrained schemes..." "Oh, Uncle Stan..." Jillian seems to enjoy being teased; she laughs and pokes Kennedy in the ribs. "...so he came all the way up here to Boston," Kennedy continues. "And somehow he managed to sweet-talk a young VP at First Colonial out of a little more than two million dollars, if memory serves. I suppose that I have the somewhat dubious distinction of being one of the first victims of the legendary G.W. Kendal charm, because I..." "Kendal Oil!" Leida's eyes grow wide as she makes the connection. "You're the Kendal of Kendal Oil!" Jillian rolls her eyes. "Everybody makes that mistake. Kendall Oil has two L's," she points out, "and they're a hell... they're a whole lot bigger than we are." She glances at the camera; like Kennedy, she's apparently not convinced that it's not recording. "We spell Kendal with one L. Daddy's just the plain old G.W. Kendal Company." "So you're not really related?" Jillian blinks a couple of times. "Excuse me?" "Well, you called him 'Uncle Stan'..." "Affectionate nickname," Kennedy says. "I've known Jillian for... well, for about fifteen years. And as it happens, I haven't seen her for quite some time, so if you'll excuse us..." "But I have to ask Jillian some questions," Leida says, hoping that she doesn't sound desperate. "Just a couple of minutes, okay? Please?" "I'll be back for the awards ceremony," Jillian says, helpfully, as Kennedy grabs her arm and begins to lead her away. She shrugs as if to say, I'd love to stay and talk to you, but he's bigger than I am, what can I do? "Great interview," Jimmy says, as he and Leida watch Jillian and her Uncle Stan disappear into the crowd in the Square. He flips a couple of switches, the lights on the camera go out. "Positively scintillating." Leida sighs. "Did you get anything at all?" "I got something," Jimmy confirms, vaguely. "It might not be any good, it's tough to shoot while I'm trying to act like I'm not shooting, if you know what I mean." He laughs, and Leida finds that she's somehow relieved that they're co-conspirators, on the same team, even if it's only for a few minutes. "You wanna follow them?" Jimmy suggests, hopefully. "You never know what they might be up to. Maybe I'll get a shot of them rolling around in the bushes or something..." Pointedly ignoring Jimmy's implication, Leida just shakes her head. "Let her go," she says. "I'll catch up with her sooner or later." And when I do, she thinks, Jillian Kendal will wish that she had talked to me when I wanted to talk to her...
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