Before They Were Stars - Deborah Norville

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join William Statler and Karla Statler in renewing their vows of holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be rejoined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

The purpose of an objection at a wedding is to assess the legal eligibility of a union (or the reaffirmation of said union), not the emotional eligibility. So unless someone objects with a reason that holds substantial legal merit, little more will happen than a fleeting pause in the ceremony and a significantly awkward moment.

In this case, the legal merit was presented when the beautiful blonde approached Karla, handed her an envelope, and said, "Karla Statler, you have been served. You are being sued for divorce on the grounds of adultery."

The blonde used a small camera to take a picture of the envelope in Karla's hand. She then smiled at me, took my hand, and escorted me back up the aisle and out to our cars.

~~~

Four months previous...

There were six candidates from the Grady College of Journalism and Mass Communications at the University of Georgia interested in the summer intern position at WAGA-TV, but only one actual selection. A former colleague had seen her performance during her internship with Georgia Public Television and brought her to my attention.

Deborah Norville had come to my attention previously during one of my guest lectures at the UG campus in Athens. She had asked probing and insightful questions during my lecture and demonstrated a natural skill at keeping her eyes focused and intent on the person being asked. She had made it seem as if the answer to the question posed was the most interesting thing she was ever going to hear.

Deborah was the last of the six candidates to arrive at the Memorial Day barbeque at my house in the Buckhead area of Atlanta. I had invited them all so that the news director and several other people whose opinions I valued at WAGA could meet all six candidates in an informal setting. Besides the six students and a few coworkers, the rest of the attendees were all acquaintances of my wife Karla. Some of these were her coworkers from Georgia-Pacific, while others were neighbors of ours that I hardly knew.

As is probably normal in such settings, people tended to congregate with other people that they knew, which had the six students hanging around one side of the pool, while neighbors who knew each other chatted under the filtered shade offered by the pergola over the patio. Karla flitted between the group of neighbors and her coworkers on the other side of the pool, ignoring the students and my coworkers entirely. She had nothing in common with either group, so her philosophy was "Why try to pretend to be interested?".

It was still too early to get the grilling started, so I encouraged the people from WAGA to go introduce themselves to the intern candidates and explain what each of them did at the station. I saw that most were reluctant to wander too far away from me, each afraid that somebody else might get a chance to brown-nose the boss more than they wanted to, so I decided to lead them over to the students and introduce everyone myself.

Most of the students began asking technical questions about the station, but Deborah seemed unusually distracted by someone on the other side of the pool. As I stood off to the side, watching the interaction of my staff and the students, I sensed Deborah moving beside me.

"Excuse me, Mr. Statler, do you know who that woman is?"

"Which woman?" I asked.

"The tall brunette wearing the flowered blouse and white Capri pants," she said.

I glanced over at where Karla was standing and said, "Yes, I know who she is. Why?"

"Because I would like to give my aunt the name of the woman who is sleeping with her husband. She has pictures and a video of the two of them in a motel room, but the private investigator couldn't provide the woman's name."

"You're telling me that you recognize that woman over there as the woman in pictures that your aunt has of her husband being with, I assume in a sexual interlude of some sort?"

Deborah nodded and said, "I'm almost positive. She wears her hair the same way, parted in that crooked way just above her left eye. If I could get a glimpse at her right hip I would know for sure. In the pictures, she has an oval birthmark on her hip, but her blouse is just long enough today to cover that area."

"So you've never met this woman?" I asked.

"No, but I'm sure that is her."

"Well then, come on. I'll introduce you."

I led Deborah around the pool and approached the woman in question. She turned and smiled at our approach, moving the drink in her right hand to her left.

I made the introductions, "Deborah Norville, I would like to introduce my wife, Karla. Karla, this is Deborah Norville, one of the candidates for the summer intern position at WAGA-TV."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Deborah. What are your ambitions; to be on the air or behind the scenes? Obviously, with your looks, you belong in front of the camera, but some people prefer not to be."

Deborah looked extremely embarrassed, and I sensed that it was due to her discovering that the scarlet letter she had just painted adorned the wife of the man who would determine her fate with WAGA-TV.

I took pity on her and answered on her behalf, "Interns get exposed to all aspects of the station, but we hope to eventually get Deborah on the air. After all, she was Georgia's representative in the 1976 America's Junior Miss pageant. We need to go meet some others from the station. Let me know when you want me to start the grill."

I quickly led Deborah away from where Karla was resuming her conversation. Deborah walked silently beside me as I headed toward the grill where we would have some privacy for a few minutes at least.

"Deborah, I know that I have no right to ask this, but could you put me in contact with your aunt?"

She looked up at me, still embarrassed, and asked, "You didn't know, did you?"

"I never had a clue," I admitted. "And, for the record, Karla does have that oval birthmark on her right hip."

"Wow!" she said. "I never expected this. I'm so embarrassed, but I'm also glad to know who the woman is. My aunt has been my rock during my mom's illness, and I feel obligated to stand beside her now. Do you know what you're going to do, because I know that my aunt intends to name the woman in an alienation of affection lawsuit in addition to suing my uncle for divorce on the grounds of adultery?"

"That's one of the reasons that I would like to get in contact with your aunt," I told her. "If we can coordinate our actions and get the timing of things right, I believe we could both benefit. I will definitely be investigating a divorce from Karla, and the evidence that your aunt has will be useful in that regard, but if your aunt is also seeking some form of revenge..."

"Revenge is at the forefront of her thoughts right now," Deborah said. "She hasn't let anyone but my mom and I know what she has learned about my uncle's affair, and is trying to act like everything is normal around him. Will you be able to do that?"

"I think so," I said. "I mean, when I introduced you to Karla I had just learned of her infidelity from you. How do you think I did under the circumstances?"

"I haven't had a lot of exposure to your behavior, but it seemed genuine and normal enough to me. How will you do when the two of you are alone?"

I shrugged and said, "I should be okay." Then I asked, "How long does your aunt suspect that the affair has been going on?"

"She knows that it has been going on for the last six months, but she suspects a lot longer. There is too much familiarity between the two cheaters. I've seen the video and heard them talking. There is definitely some history there."

She glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to hear our conversation and said, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"You believe that you can behave normally around your wife as you move through whatever you decide to do, but do you believe that you can behave normally where your work is concerned? Will any of this affect your opinions of me or my chance for the summer internship at WAGA-TV?"

I laughed and said, "Kiddo, this only strengthens my perceptions of you. You have demonstrated moral integrity that is rare in this day and age. You have earned my trust and respect here today, but the decision on the internship was made last Friday. Professor Stein will be notifying you tomorrow that you got the position."

Her eyes grew wide and I could tell that she was restraining herself from giving me a hug of appreciation, "Oh, thank you, Mr. Statler! I will do everything in my power to make you proud of me."

"You can start making me proud right now by not calling me by my father's name. Call me Will."

~~~

"You wanted to see me, Will?"

I glanced up from my desk and saw Deborah standing in the doorway to my office. My secretary must be away from her desk or she would have announced Deborah's arrival.

"Yes, please come in and close the door."

Although I owned WAGA-TV - well technically, the company that my family owned, Statler Multimedia, owned WAGA-TV - I didn't keep an office at the station. My office was in Statler Multimedia's region offices on Peachtree Street in downtown Atlanta. I represented the family company here as the vice president of acquisitions and development. I also kept an eye on our affiliate, WAGA-TV in Atlanta.

Deborah had been summoned to appear at my office on a day when she did not work so that she would have time to make the trip from her residence in Athens without impacting her internship. Knowing her as I did, I suspected that she had inquired with others at the station and found out that I seldom, if ever, had station employees come to my office. I would meet them at the station in one of the conference rooms. If she was concerned or worried about the purpose for my requesting this meeting after her having been an intern for less than a week, she hid it well.

I stood up and walked around the desk to shake her hand. I then guided her to one of the chairs in front of the desk. Once she had taken a seat, I sat in the other chair, directly beside her. She was wearing a button-up white blouse and dark blue slacks. Business casual at its finest.

"First, let me say how sorry I am to hear about your mother's passing. If there is anything that I or the Statler organization can do for you or your family, please let me know."

She nodded, but maintained her brave, professional persona, "Thank you. She is free of pain and at peace now."

"Your aunt tells me that you have something for me," I said.

Without answering, Deborah reached into her purse and pulled out a large manila envelope and handed it to me. I set it on my desk without opening it. Deborah's aunt had already described for me what the contents were.

Her aunt and I had spoken on the phone several times since Memorial Day, but we had not yet met face to face. Deborah had agreed to be the courier that would deliver me a copy of all the evidence that her aunt had detailing the affair between her husband and Karla. That delivery was only a secondary reason for me wanting to meet with Deborah in my office.

"Thank you," I said. "How are you getting along at the station so far?"

Deborah perked up and said, "I'm loving it! Everyone is both welcoming and encouraging. Brian was short a reporter last Saturday and asked me to cover a news story. I got to report on the six-o'clock news that night. He thinks that I might get offered a weekend reporting position after the summer."

I nodded and said, "I'm glad that you are fitting in so well, and I can assure you that if you keep making me as proud as you have, you will definitely get that offer. I do have one concern about you that we need to discuss, however."

Deborah took on a guarded expression and asked, "What is that?"

"Tell me about your housing accommodations, especially when you are working."

"I live in our sorority house in Athens," she began.

"But you don't stay there when you're working at the station in Atlanta, do you?"

She shook her head and stared at her hands as she said, "No, the drive is too far to make after I finish with the eleven o'clock news."

"So where do you stay?" I asked.

"Different places. I get by."

"Places like your car?" I asked, trying to not sound condescending or scolding.

"A couple of times," she admitted.

"No more," I told her, handing her a key. "This is a key to my house. There are plenty of spare bedrooms and it is only fifteen minutes from the station. You can follow me there when we leave here and pick out the room you want. Your future is reporting the news, not being the news as someone who got attacked while sleeping in their car in the wrong part of Atlanta."

"Do you think this is a good idea with what is about to transpire with your marriage? If your wife happens to mention me by name to my uncle and say that I am staying at your house, will they view it as strictly a coincidence?"

I laughed and said, "Your aunt and I thought of that and we believe that the two cheaters still have no clue that they have been discovered. I already spoke to Karla and she had no objections to you staying in one of our guest rooms. She thinks it would be good for me to have someone else in the house since she is going to be working so many late nights on some project and taking extended business trips for the next few months. All of which coincides with stories that your uncle has told your aunt about his upcoming schedule."

"So the days I work at WAGA, I could crash at your place rather than driving back to Athens? No one else will know, right?"

"I won't tell anybody," I told her. "What do you do in Athens when you're not working at WAGA?"

"When possible, I take extra courses, but scheduling required classes during the shorter summer session is difficult. I did better last summer than this year, but I should still be able to begin my senior year early, in September."

"You'll be graduating after only three years? Impressive. What is your grade point average?"

"I've been able to maintain a 4.0 average so far. I'm trying to keep it through graduation."

I nodded and said, "Well, the room you select won't be used by anyone else except you, so you are welcome to stay on days when you don't have classes and aren't working at WAGA so you're not making the commute to Athens any more often than necessary."

"That would make things easier," she said. "Would you mind if I cooked dinner for us when it's just the two of us there? I would also like to take care of the housekeeping or anything else that needed to be done as a form of payment."

"You can cook whatever you want," I told her, "but don't expect me to eat it. I am a very finicky eater and seldom deviate from things that I know that I like. The housekeeping is handled by a paid housekeeper, but if you know how to clean a pool, the pool service company we used just went belly-up. We haven't selected a new one yet, so you could take over that for the summer if you wanted."

"I can do that!" Deborah exclaimed. "I cleaned the community pool at our neighborhood in Dalton while in high school. As long as you have the chemicals and stuff, I can handle it."

"What we don't have, we can get. Are you ready to follow me to the house?" I stood and held out a hand to assist Deborah to stand.

"Following you might be difficult in the traffic," she said, "so if you lose me, don't worry. I remember how to get to your house"

"I'm glad to hear that, but I'll try not to lose you regardless."

Traffic was heavy, as was typical, but Deborah pulled into the driveway of my house right behind me. While I pulled my car into one of the garage bays, she parked in one of the paved concrete pull-outs along the edge of the drive. She stood beside her car, unsure of which entrance to the house that I would choose. I motioned for her to join me in the garage and escorted her through the mudroom into the kitchen.

"The house key I gave you will work on all the exterior doors. Let me show you the choice of bedrooms first, then I'll give you a full tour of the house."

"That sounds good," Deborah said. "I'm not in any hurry to jump into the rush-hour traffic."

I hadn't thought of that. All the commuters heading out of Atlanta towards the northern suburbs would have every route for her back to Athens congested for at least two, and probably three hours. "Feel free to hang out here as long as you want," I told her.

She followed me through the formal dining room and the family room that never hosted any family member, into a hallway that led towards the front of the house. "The master suite is on the backside of the house. You probably saw the French Doors across from the hot tub. Those lead into the bedroom from the outside."

"That must be convenient for romantic evenings in the hot tub," Deborah said before realizing her mistake. "Oh, I'm sorry, Will."

"No worries," I assured her as I opened the door to the first guest bedroom. "Learning of Karla's cheating not only killed any romantic aspirations I may have, they also tainted the memory of every romantic moment that we had ever shared. My emotions are pretty scabbed over right now, so don't be afraid of saying something that might hurt me."

Deborah patted my forearm and looked around the room. It held a queen-sized bed with a solid oak headboard, oak side tables, and a long oak dresser with a mirror above it. Entirely generic furnishings with no other accessories such as pictures on the walls or personal effects of any kind. Deborah walked to what she assumed was a closet and opened the door.

"It has about the same storage space as my room at the sorority house," she observed. "I do like the idea of having a queen-sized bed. Our sorority rooms all have two twin beds."

Her comment about a larger bed made me wonder about something. I asked her, "Do you have a boyfriend or anyone that you might want to spend the night with you here on occasion? If you do, I don't have any issue with it as long as you let me know. I wouldn't want to be surprised by a stranger in the house and end up shooting them or something."

Deborah shook her head and said, "No. I had a high school boyfriend up in Dalton, but once I moved to Athens for college, he couldn't deal with the distance and us only seeing each other during holidays and semester breaks. He moved on within months. Is there another room that you wanted to show me?"

I showed her two more guest rooms, both furnished similar to the first. She ended up choosing the one room that didn't have a window on the front of the house but had one looking out to the fenced side yard. This room did have a private bathroom, and it was also the only one of the three rooms that had a television currently in it, although I assured her that it could be moved to any of the others if she desired.

As she sat on the bed and bounced a few times, she said, "I appreciate you letting me stay here when I am in Atlanta. I promise that I won't be any bother for you or your wife."

I smiled and said, "It's my pleasure to have you. Come on, I'll show you the rest of the house."

The tour ended in the kitchen where Deborah took it upon herself to start examining the contents of the cabinets and drawers to familiarize herself with where specific dishes and utensils were kept.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked.