a good mood yet?”
Mrs. Fields kept her face carefully blank.
In fact, Mr. Winston had been a bear almost all week. He’d seemed fine on Monday, but from Tuesday until today—Friday—he had been testy with everyone, from his vice presidents to the man who brought him a sandwich for lunch to her. Of course he had been in that car accident on Monday night, but he’d brushed that off as a fender bender when she asked about it. The pictures in the tabloids the next day, those ones of him hovering over a shaken Virginia Beckett—she knew from long-past experience not to ask about that kind of thing. If he hadn’t seen a tabloid picture of himself, he didn’t want to. But even if he had, it usually didn’t put him out of sorts like this.
Heavens, she had never so looked forward to the weekend in all her ten years working for Mr. Winston. She supposed he must have talked to Rye during this week as well for him to pose the question he just did. But a man, especially one as usually fair and good-natured as Mr. Winston, was entitled to a bad-tempered week now and again. So she loyally pretended not to understand Mr. Kinsey. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. Would you like me to let him know that you’re here?”
Rye smiled in appreciation at her discretion. “Just remember that you can leave Aaron and come to work for me any time and I’ll pay you…well, almost as much as he does!”
Mrs. Fields laughed.
“Okay, throw me to the wolves. Go ahead and buzz him.”
Aaron didn’t seem especially pleased to see him when Rye was ushered in. Shirt-sleeves rolled up, his tie nowhere in evidence, he looked as though he might have been interrupted completing an especially arduous task. But the desk was clear except for a slim manila file that Aaron closed as Rye entered. He looked up expectantly, without bothering to get up. “What can I do for you, Rye?”
Ignoring Aaron’s coldness with an aplomb that had gotten Rye through many a sticky situation, he flopped himself down on one of the luxurious navy-blue Barclay loungers that faced the desk and nonchalantly scanned the huge office, pushing his glasses up farther on his nose. “Oh, nothing. I was just here with some of your financial guys for an auditors’ meeting and thought I’d stop by to remind myself how the other half live.” Rye casually continued to scan the lavishly done office, from the original impressionist paintings on the wall to the elaborate seventy-two-inch plasma television in the adjoining suite. “You know, I would really like an office like this.”
Aaron cut him off. “Was there something you needed to see me about, Rye? I’m kind of busy at the moment.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” He looked pointedly at the bare desk. “But actually, I wanted to see if you had reconsidered about going to that charity thing tomorrow night.” Rye had invited Aaron and “ that gorgeous girlfriend of yours ” to a benefit on Saturday night at the Museum of Natural History. Rye’s wife, Tammy, had worked pretty hard on the event and was determined that a full array of New York’s most prominent citizens should attend. Aaron had initially agreed to come and purchased the tickets for a hefty ten-thousand apiece, but when Rye called him on Thursday to remind him about it, he was curtly told that Aaron had other plans. Not that Rye cared whether Aaron wanted to drop twenty-thousand bucks and not even get a dinner out of it, but Tammy had made Rye promise to try to convince Aaron one more time. “It should be a lot of fun,” Rye argued lamely.
“Thanks again, but I’m not interested. Something came up.” Aaron was already rising to direct Rye out when Rye thought of a new approach.
“Your new friend will be there. You know, your latest target and tabloid buddy.”
Those headlines with the picture of Aaron bending over Virginia Beckett solicitously, police and wrecked cars in the background, probably drove Aaron mad. Cozy Romantic Dinner
Mrs. Fields kept her face carefully blank.
In fact, Mr. Winston had been a bear almost all week. He’d seemed fine on Monday, but from Tuesday until today—Friday—he had been testy with everyone, from his vice presidents to the man who brought him a sandwich for lunch to her. Of course he had been in that car accident on Monday night, but he’d brushed that off as a fender bender when she asked about it. The pictures in the tabloids the next day, those ones of him hovering over a shaken Virginia Beckett—she knew from long-past experience not to ask about that kind of thing. If he hadn’t seen a tabloid picture of himself, he didn’t want to. But even if he had, it usually didn’t put him out of sorts like this.
Heavens, she had never so looked forward to the weekend in all her ten years working for Mr. Winston. She supposed he must have talked to Rye during this week as well for him to pose the question he just did. But a man, especially one as usually fair and good-natured as Mr. Winston, was entitled to a bad-tempered week now and again. So she loyally pretended not to understand Mr. Kinsey. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. Would you like me to let him know that you’re here?”
Rye smiled in appreciation at her discretion. “Just remember that you can leave Aaron and come to work for me any time and I’ll pay you…well, almost as much as he does!”
Mrs. Fields laughed.
“Okay, throw me to the wolves. Go ahead and buzz him.”
Aaron didn’t seem especially pleased to see him when Rye was ushered in. Shirt-sleeves rolled up, his tie nowhere in evidence, he looked as though he might have been interrupted completing an especially arduous task. But the desk was clear except for a slim manila file that Aaron closed as Rye entered. He looked up expectantly, without bothering to get up. “What can I do for you, Rye?”
Ignoring Aaron’s coldness with an aplomb that had gotten Rye through many a sticky situation, he flopped himself down on one of the luxurious navy-blue Barclay loungers that faced the desk and nonchalantly scanned the huge office, pushing his glasses up farther on his nose. “Oh, nothing. I was just here with some of your financial guys for an auditors’ meeting and thought I’d stop by to remind myself how the other half live.” Rye casually continued to scan the lavishly done office, from the original impressionist paintings on the wall to the elaborate seventy-two-inch plasma television in the adjoining suite. “You know, I would really like an office like this.”
Aaron cut him off. “Was there something you needed to see me about, Rye? I’m kind of busy at the moment.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” He looked pointedly at the bare desk. “But actually, I wanted to see if you had reconsidered about going to that charity thing tomorrow night.” Rye had invited Aaron and “ that gorgeous girlfriend of yours ” to a benefit on Saturday night at the Museum of Natural History. Rye’s wife, Tammy, had worked pretty hard on the event and was determined that a full array of New York’s most prominent citizens should attend. Aaron had initially agreed to come and purchased the tickets for a hefty ten-thousand apiece, but when Rye called him on Thursday to remind him about it, he was curtly told that Aaron had other plans. Not that Rye cared whether Aaron wanted to drop twenty-thousand bucks and not even get a dinner out of it, but Tammy had made Rye promise to try to convince Aaron one more time. “It should be a lot of fun,” Rye argued lamely.
“Thanks again, but I’m not interested. Something came up.” Aaron was already rising to direct Rye out when Rye thought of a new approach.
“Your new friend will be there. You know, your latest target and tabloid buddy.”
Those headlines with the picture of Aaron bending over Virginia Beckett solicitously, police and wrecked cars in the background, probably drove Aaron mad. Cozy Romantic Dinner
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