Jeff and I were giddy at the possibility. But leaving the comfortable and well-compensated confines of the TODAY show for something completely unknown was a huge risk.
In early April, Matt re-signed with NBC. And no wonder: $25 million a year, a four-day workweek, and a helicopter to take him to and from his manse in the Hamptons. （He gave me a lift back to the city in that thing once, a scene straight out of Succession.） Yes, the compensation was obscene, but when you are the face of a profit-gusher like TODAY, the sky’s the limit.
Jeff was livid. I got the clear sense he was much more excited about our show when there was a chance Matt would join us, partly because poaching Matt Lauer would have been a hell of an FU to NBC for showing Jeff the door—just as Les Moonves poaching me for the CBS Evening News was a great way to stick it to Jeff. The media runs on schadenfreude—it’s not enough that you’re able to attract big-name talent to enhance your operation; the real joy is in screwing the competition. What a business.
All Jeff and I could do was move on. We were in it now, and there was no turning back.
Part V
77
Nancy Knows
WE HAD A full year to prepare for the syndicated show. Our gap year, as I came to think of it, quickly got stuffed with glad-handing, lunching, and meet-and-greets designed to excite the local GMs and convince everyone Jeff was fully on board.
I also popped up in various places on ABC to keep myself in the public eye. The highlight was a special I did for 20/20 called “The Jubilee Queen,” commemorating 60 years of Queen Elizabeth II’s reign. I caught up with Prince Harry at a polo match in Brazil （still in his wild-oats-sowing phase—a strong aroma of alcohol and cigarettes seemed to ooze from every pore）。 On the subject of his social media–aware “granny,” I asked Prince Harry if she’d friended him on Facebook. He said she hadn’t, then asked if she’d friended me （um, no, unfortunately）。 At Clarence House, Prince William opened up about how difficult it was to not have his mother at his wedding, telling me he was “just very sad she’s never gonna get the chance to meet Kate.”
I donned a fascinator （which looked more like a Frisbee-shaped matzo） for a Buckingham Palace garden party: tea and scones on 40 acres for 8,000 guests ranging from landed gentry to “commoners,” a sea of fanciful bonnets in all shapes and shades. Eventually, the queen approached in a peach coat with big buttons and a matching hat, one of her handbags dangling, in trademark fashion, from her forearm. I curtsied and told her what an honor it was to meet her. Then I said, “We’re working on a special about you, Your Majesty.”
To which she responded, “There’s a lot there.” That was clear （and we hadn’t even seen The Crown yet）。
I also guest-hosted GMA, a show that had been my mortal enemy for 15 years. Some thought that was downright treasonous, as if there were a codicil buried deep in my old NBC contracts demanding lifetime loyalty. TODAY retaliated by bringing in Sarah Palin, of all people, to guest-host at the same time （narrowly winning the week, so I guess she got me back）。
By now, things with Brooks were wearing thin. The older I got, the younger he seemed. The relationship was way past its sell-by date, but for some reason I couldn’t find it in me to end it. Turns out I didn’t have to.
I was in Simi Valley, California, to do a Q & A at the Reagan Library. I had some time on my hands, so I got a pedicure, during which Matthew Hiltzik’s name showed up on my phone. Page Six wanted my reaction to the fact that Brooks was moving out of my apartment. You really haven’t lived until a tabloid informs you what’s going on in your personal life.
Nancy Reagan had invited me. We’d become friends when she took me on a tour of the library for the TODAY show in 1998 soon after Jay died. She was especially kind to me that day. I think she felt we were kindred spirits: I had lost my husband, and she, in many ways, had lost hers—her beloved Ronnie was slipping away from Alzheimer’s disease, something he called “the long goodbye.” We’d also produced a beautiful piece about his love letters to Nancy. After President Reagan died, I brought her a Venetian glass vase I’d picked up in Italy.
Following my Page Six newsflash, I was sitting with Nancy when she inquired about my love life. She was in a wheelchair and very frail, although her appetite for dish was undiminished （I remember her digging into the topic of Warren Beatty during lunch one time at the Hotel Bel-Air）。
“Oh, that handsome younger guy I’ve been with for a while,” I said, “that’s pretty much over.”