it. "I've been giving a lot of thought to the play we're backing."
Edwin smiled a little. "Still nervous about my hunch there?"
"No." He could answer that honestly enough now. "I've had several meetings with the producer and the director. I've even looked in on a couple of rehearsals. My guess is that the play itself will hit big. The score—more our concern, really—is wonderful. What we're working on now is promotion and marketing for the cast album."
"If you wouldn't mind, I might like to squirrel my way in on that end a bit."
"You know you don't have to ask."
"I do," Edwin corrected. "You're in charge, Reed. I didn't step down figuratively, but literally. As it happens, though, this is a pet project of mine. I've got a bit of personal interest."
"You've never explained why you do."
Edwin smiled a bit and broke off a corner of his second roll. "Goes back awhile. A long while. Have you met Maddy O'Hurley yet?"
Reed's brows drew together. Did his father read him that well?'' "As a matter of fact—" When the buzzer sounded on his desk, he accepted the interruption without heat. "Yes, Hannah."
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Valentine, but there's a young woman out here." Hannah could be tough as nails, but she found herself smiling at the drenched figure in front of her. "She says she has something to deliver to you."
"Take it, will you, Hannah?"
"She prefers to give it to you personally. Her name is, ah… Maddy."
Reed paused on the brink of refusal. "Maddy? Send her in, Hannah."
Dripping rain and carrying her dance bag and her dying plant, Maddy rushed into the office. "I'm sorry to bother you, Reed. It's just that I've been thinking and I decided you should have this before I murder it. I always get these spasms of guilt when I kill another plant and I figured you could spare me."
Edwin rose as she passed his chair, and she broke off her tumbling explanation. "Hello." She sent him an easy smile and tried to ignore the sweet rolls on the tray. "I'm interrupting, but it's really a matter of life and death." She set the wet, wilting plant on his spotless oak desk. "Don't tell me if it dies, okay? But if it survives, you let me know. Thanks." With a last flashing grin, she started to leave.
"Maddy." Now that she'd given him a moment to speak, Reed rose, as well. "I'd like you to meet my father. Edwin Valentine, Maddy O'Hurley."
"Oh." Maddy started to offer her hand, then dropped it again. "I'm soaked," she explained, smiling instead. "It's nice to meet you."
"Delighted." Edwin beamed at her. "Have a seat."
"Oh, I can't, really. I'm wet."
"A little water never hurt good leather." Before she could protest, Edwin took her arm and led her to one of the wide, biscuit-colored chairs beside the desk. "I've admired you onstage."
"Thank you." It didn't occur to her to be awed, though she was sitting almost toe-to-toe with one of the richest and most influential men in the country. She found his wide, ruddy face appealing, and though she looked, she couldn't find a single resemblance to his son.
Reed brought her gaze back to his. "Would you like some coffee, Maddy?"
No, he didn't resemble his father. Reed was sharp-featured and lean. Hungry. Maddy found her blood moving just a bit faster. "I don't drink coffee anymore. If you had any tea with honey, I'd love a cup."
"Have a roll," Edwin said when he saw her give them a quick, wistful look.
"I'm going to miss lunch," she told him easily, "I guess I could use a little sugar in the bloodstream." She smiled at him as she chose one that dripped with frosting. If she was going to sin, she preferred to sin well. "We've all been wondering if you'd come by rehearsals, Mr. Valentine."
"I've given it some thought. Reed and I were just talking about the play. He's of the opinion it's going to be a hit. What do you think?"
"I think it's bad luck for me to say so until we try it out in Philadelphia." She took a bite of the roll and could almost feel her energy level rise.
Edwin smiled a little. "Still nervous about my hunch there?"
"No." He could answer that honestly enough now. "I've had several meetings with the producer and the director. I've even looked in on a couple of rehearsals. My guess is that the play itself will hit big. The score—more our concern, really—is wonderful. What we're working on now is promotion and marketing for the cast album."
"If you wouldn't mind, I might like to squirrel my way in on that end a bit."
"You know you don't have to ask."
"I do," Edwin corrected. "You're in charge, Reed. I didn't step down figuratively, but literally. As it happens, though, this is a pet project of mine. I've got a bit of personal interest."
"You've never explained why you do."
Edwin smiled a bit and broke off a corner of his second roll. "Goes back awhile. A long while. Have you met Maddy O'Hurley yet?"
Reed's brows drew together. Did his father read him that well?'' "As a matter of fact—" When the buzzer sounded on his desk, he accepted the interruption without heat. "Yes, Hannah."
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Valentine, but there's a young woman out here." Hannah could be tough as nails, but she found herself smiling at the drenched figure in front of her. "She says she has something to deliver to you."
"Take it, will you, Hannah?"
"She prefers to give it to you personally. Her name is, ah… Maddy."
Reed paused on the brink of refusal. "Maddy? Send her in, Hannah."
Dripping rain and carrying her dance bag and her dying plant, Maddy rushed into the office. "I'm sorry to bother you, Reed. It's just that I've been thinking and I decided you should have this before I murder it. I always get these spasms of guilt when I kill another plant and I figured you could spare me."
Edwin rose as she passed his chair, and she broke off her tumbling explanation. "Hello." She sent him an easy smile and tried to ignore the sweet rolls on the tray. "I'm interrupting, but it's really a matter of life and death." She set the wet, wilting plant on his spotless oak desk. "Don't tell me if it dies, okay? But if it survives, you let me know. Thanks." With a last flashing grin, she started to leave.
"Maddy." Now that she'd given him a moment to speak, Reed rose, as well. "I'd like you to meet my father. Edwin Valentine, Maddy O'Hurley."
"Oh." Maddy started to offer her hand, then dropped it again. "I'm soaked," she explained, smiling instead. "It's nice to meet you."
"Delighted." Edwin beamed at her. "Have a seat."
"Oh, I can't, really. I'm wet."
"A little water never hurt good leather." Before she could protest, Edwin took her arm and led her to one of the wide, biscuit-colored chairs beside the desk. "I've admired you onstage."
"Thank you." It didn't occur to her to be awed, though she was sitting almost toe-to-toe with one of the richest and most influential men in the country. She found his wide, ruddy face appealing, and though she looked, she couldn't find a single resemblance to his son.
Reed brought her gaze back to his. "Would you like some coffee, Maddy?"
No, he didn't resemble his father. Reed was sharp-featured and lean. Hungry. Maddy found her blood moving just a bit faster. "I don't drink coffee anymore. If you had any tea with honey, I'd love a cup."
"Have a roll," Edwin said when he saw her give them a quick, wistful look.
"I'm going to miss lunch," she told him easily, "I guess I could use a little sugar in the bloodstream." She smiled at him as she chose one that dripped with frosting. If she was going to sin, she preferred to sin well. "We've all been wondering if you'd come by rehearsals, Mr. Valentine."
"I've given it some thought. Reed and I were just talking about the play. He's of the opinion it's going to be a hit. What do you think?"
"I think it's bad luck for me to say so until we try it out in Philadelphia." She took a bite of the roll and could almost feel her energy level rise.
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