As you know, I’ve been trying to stay out of this, but my mother has been passing along details. If I’m recalling the facts correctly, then Wyndham’s might make the most sense.”
After making several notations in his notebook, Philip looked up at his boss. “Is there anything else?”
“One last thing.” He tossed the folder with the mockups to him. “Which do you like better?”
Philip had already seen the advertisements in several forms—in fact, he’d had a front-row seat to their evolution—so he could answer promptly. “The runway series. I think it’ll make great billboards and will translate well to TV. I was also going to suggest that we do one for movie theaters, to show before the previews. Something eye catching, not our usual style,” he said, before backtracking. “Not that eye catching isn’t our usual style. I just meant something artsy with more jarring elements than we’re used to.”
Cole nodded. “Excellent idea. Tell Orlando and see what he comes up with. And I agree with your choice. We’ll go with the runway series.”
“Great. I’ll do that now,” he said, standing up. “And I’ll let you know right away what I think about Wyndham’s. It’s smaller and doesn’t have the same name recognition as Davidge’s or Brooks’s, but your mother has interacted with the Wyndhams socially and felt compelled to give their firm a chance.”
“Great. Thanks again for helping out with the auction, Philip. It’s not official Hammond Communications business, and I appreciate your going above and beyond.”
He flipped his notepad closed and slid it silently into his pocket. “Not at all. I like working with your mother. She’s a fascinating woman.”
Cole knew his mother, beautiful still at sixty-seven, held a certain attraction for younger men. She was famously known here and abroad for her elegance and her soft-spoken words and for being a deft editor, but those who got to know her recognized a keen intelligence and wicked sense of humor. “You’re not bucking to be my stepfather, are you, Knight?”
His second in command flushed slightly but looked him in the eye. He knew it was better to play along than to deny the accusation. “I don’t think she’d have me.”
Cole was still smiling as Philip closed the door to his office. Left alone, with the most pressing details of his day sorted out, he glared at his telephone. There was no putting it off. He had to call Lucy.
He wasn’t particularly worried that he was breaking Lucy’s heart. They’d only been seeing each other for two months and their relationship had never been serious. Neither one had even hinted mildly at a future together; at best they made plans a week in advance. Still, he knew there would be a scene. Lucy was used to getting her own way and could be petulant when thwarted. That was one of the things that was starting to wear thin. At first, he’d admired her commanding way, but after a while he realized it as the merely entitled confidence of a spoiled child who expected everyone to bend to her will.
Cole didn’t like bending to anyone’s will.
He called her, selfishly hoping she was in Barney’s or The Waverly Inn or the hair salon at Bloomingdale’s—any place where she’d be too embarrassed to make a scene. She would employ her snippy, peevish tone, of course, the one she used with waiters and anyone behind a cash register, but that would be infinitely better than her hurling invectives at him.
As he listened to the phone ring, he wondered why he hadn’t made this call sooner. He had known weeks ago Lucy and he weren’t working. On the face of it she was perfect for him—reared in a wealthy household, educated at the finest schools, accustomed to dealing with the demands of a consuming job—but she was somehow soulless.
Just as he was about to hang up, she answered, breathless and panting. “Cole darling, is that you?”
“Yes, Lucy, it’s me,” he said, mildly annoyed at the
After making several notations in his notebook, Philip looked up at his boss. “Is there anything else?”
“One last thing.” He tossed the folder with the mockups to him. “Which do you like better?”
Philip had already seen the advertisements in several forms—in fact, he’d had a front-row seat to their evolution—so he could answer promptly. “The runway series. I think it’ll make great billboards and will translate well to TV. I was also going to suggest that we do one for movie theaters, to show before the previews. Something eye catching, not our usual style,” he said, before backtracking. “Not that eye catching isn’t our usual style. I just meant something artsy with more jarring elements than we’re used to.”
Cole nodded. “Excellent idea. Tell Orlando and see what he comes up with. And I agree with your choice. We’ll go with the runway series.”
“Great. I’ll do that now,” he said, standing up. “And I’ll let you know right away what I think about Wyndham’s. It’s smaller and doesn’t have the same name recognition as Davidge’s or Brooks’s, but your mother has interacted with the Wyndhams socially and felt compelled to give their firm a chance.”
“Great. Thanks again for helping out with the auction, Philip. It’s not official Hammond Communications business, and I appreciate your going above and beyond.”
He flipped his notepad closed and slid it silently into his pocket. “Not at all. I like working with your mother. She’s a fascinating woman.”
Cole knew his mother, beautiful still at sixty-seven, held a certain attraction for younger men. She was famously known here and abroad for her elegance and her soft-spoken words and for being a deft editor, but those who got to know her recognized a keen intelligence and wicked sense of humor. “You’re not bucking to be my stepfather, are you, Knight?”
His second in command flushed slightly but looked him in the eye. He knew it was better to play along than to deny the accusation. “I don’t think she’d have me.”
Cole was still smiling as Philip closed the door to his office. Left alone, with the most pressing details of his day sorted out, he glared at his telephone. There was no putting it off. He had to call Lucy.
He wasn’t particularly worried that he was breaking Lucy’s heart. They’d only been seeing each other for two months and their relationship had never been serious. Neither one had even hinted mildly at a future together; at best they made plans a week in advance. Still, he knew there would be a scene. Lucy was used to getting her own way and could be petulant when thwarted. That was one of the things that was starting to wear thin. At first, he’d admired her commanding way, but after a while he realized it as the merely entitled confidence of a spoiled child who expected everyone to bend to her will.
Cole didn’t like bending to anyone’s will.
He called her, selfishly hoping she was in Barney’s or The Waverly Inn or the hair salon at Bloomingdale’s—any place where she’d be too embarrassed to make a scene. She would employ her snippy, peevish tone, of course, the one she used with waiters and anyone behind a cash register, but that would be infinitely better than her hurling invectives at him.
As he listened to the phone ring, he wondered why he hadn’t made this call sooner. He had known weeks ago Lucy and he weren’t working. On the face of it she was perfect for him—reared in a wealthy household, educated at the finest schools, accustomed to dealing with the demands of a consuming job—but she was somehow soulless.
Just as he was about to hang up, she answered, breathless and panting. “Cole darling, is that you?”
“Yes, Lucy, it’s me,” he said, mildly annoyed at the
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