Read Online Splintered Heart by Emily Frankel - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emily Frankel
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rules. But what else was there to do? She even had "seconds."
After dessert they moved to Ferris' study for the cognac. The men had another cognac as they began to argue about the budgets. Marian's mood progressed from feeling left out to being downright bored. Every once in a while she managed to move the discussion off business and onto another subject, but generally it was Ferris who led the talk right back to Soup — the artistic concepts of script, stage set, and casting. The presentation wasn't going to be for at least a month, but Ferris seemed intent on settling all the details tonight.
When Marian found a moment to gracefully suggest it might be time to bring the evening to an end, Ferris suggested one more round of drinks. Goblets in hand, they moved to the living room, and on to the problem of how the presentation should be conducted. Charles wanted to make a deluxe, one-inch scale model of the stage set, Ferris thought a quarter-inch model would be sufficient and considerably less expensive.
"But Ferris, you did story boards, sample scripts and photo-stills for your Florida client. Why do I have to pinch pennies over soup cans!"
" Soup won't pay us as much as the Oranges — the orange people want an extravaganza, the soup people want an inexpensive commercial."
Back and forth they went with budgets and concepts. Charles mentioned he was getting tired but suddenly there was a photo in a magazine, Ferris wasn't certain which magazine but he insisted on locating it in order to show Charles a picture of a kitchen that might be the ideal stage setting.
Finally, at last, Charles got his coat and was at the door. The two men were going to see each other the very next morning, but Ferris seemed to feel he needed to re-capitulate the budget, which re-inspired Charles, then Ferris, and the whole argument flared up again.
Standing in the foyer, the hostess waited with hand on the doorknob, as all the issues were reviewed one more time.
"Ah my feet," Marian groaned in mock anguish. She slipped out of her heels as Ferris was locking up. "It's nice to be alone at last!" As Marian bent to pick up her shoes, Ferris was picking up the Wall Street Journal , settling into a chair.
"I've been home thirty-six hours," Marian perched herself on the arm. "And I feel as if I haven't stopped traveling!"
"I know what you need," Ferris looked up from the financial pages.
"Hmm," Marian chuckled, "What do I need?"
"A warm bath, that'll relax you."
"I had a bath this afternoon. You haven't whistled yet, you know."
"What?" Ferris' mind was on the page.
"You always whistle when I wear this."
"Mmm."
"Oh darling, I wish we'd had our dinner alone, we have so much to talk about... Charles is giving you a hard time, isn't he...? You and he are incompatible when it comes to certain artistic areas..." Marian left pauses between sentences, expecting Ferris to pick up the conversation but Ferris said nothing except "Yes," and "Mmm."
It wasn't clear why their homecoming evening, their honeymoon dinner had to have been shared with Ferris' business partner but Marian rationalized away her irritation — in his business as well as hers, socializing was sometimes extremely important.
The telephone rang at two a.m.
The door between bathroom and bedroom was open. Marian could see Ferris opening his dresser drawer.
She heard Ferris say "Hello", after a moment say, "You have the wrong number, why don't you check with information?" Then, she heard him hang up.
"We certainly have been getting quite a few wrong numbers lately!" Marian wanted to tell Ferris about her fears of yesterday but decided to wait until they were in each other's arms.
"Have I told you how much I missed you, how glad I am to be home my darling?" Marian said, preparing the mouthwash. It was the third time she had told him how much she missed him, how glad she was to be home.
She attempted to muffle the crudeness of the gargling. As a result swallowed a mouthful of
After dessert they moved to Ferris' study for the cognac. The men had another cognac as they began to argue about the budgets. Marian's mood progressed from feeling left out to being downright bored. Every once in a while she managed to move the discussion off business and onto another subject, but generally it was Ferris who led the talk right back to Soup — the artistic concepts of script, stage set, and casting. The presentation wasn't going to be for at least a month, but Ferris seemed intent on settling all the details tonight.
When Marian found a moment to gracefully suggest it might be time to bring the evening to an end, Ferris suggested one more round of drinks. Goblets in hand, they moved to the living room, and on to the problem of how the presentation should be conducted. Charles wanted to make a deluxe, one-inch scale model of the stage set, Ferris thought a quarter-inch model would be sufficient and considerably less expensive.
"But Ferris, you did story boards, sample scripts and photo-stills for your Florida client. Why do I have to pinch pennies over soup cans!"
" Soup won't pay us as much as the Oranges — the orange people want an extravaganza, the soup people want an inexpensive commercial."
Back and forth they went with budgets and concepts. Charles mentioned he was getting tired but suddenly there was a photo in a magazine, Ferris wasn't certain which magazine but he insisted on locating it in order to show Charles a picture of a kitchen that might be the ideal stage setting.
Finally, at last, Charles got his coat and was at the door. The two men were going to see each other the very next morning, but Ferris seemed to feel he needed to re-capitulate the budget, which re-inspired Charles, then Ferris, and the whole argument flared up again.
Standing in the foyer, the hostess waited with hand on the doorknob, as all the issues were reviewed one more time.
"Ah my feet," Marian groaned in mock anguish. She slipped out of her heels as Ferris was locking up. "It's nice to be alone at last!" As Marian bent to pick up her shoes, Ferris was picking up the Wall Street Journal , settling into a chair.
"I've been home thirty-six hours," Marian perched herself on the arm. "And I feel as if I haven't stopped traveling!"
"I know what you need," Ferris looked up from the financial pages.
"Hmm," Marian chuckled, "What do I need?"
"A warm bath, that'll relax you."
"I had a bath this afternoon. You haven't whistled yet, you know."
"What?" Ferris' mind was on the page.
"You always whistle when I wear this."
"Mmm."
"Oh darling, I wish we'd had our dinner alone, we have so much to talk about... Charles is giving you a hard time, isn't he...? You and he are incompatible when it comes to certain artistic areas..." Marian left pauses between sentences, expecting Ferris to pick up the conversation but Ferris said nothing except "Yes," and "Mmm."
It wasn't clear why their homecoming evening, their honeymoon dinner had to have been shared with Ferris' business partner but Marian rationalized away her irritation — in his business as well as hers, socializing was sometimes extremely important.
The telephone rang at two a.m.
The door between bathroom and bedroom was open. Marian could see Ferris opening his dresser drawer.
She heard Ferris say "Hello", after a moment say, "You have the wrong number, why don't you check with information?" Then, she heard him hang up.
"We certainly have been getting quite a few wrong numbers lately!" Marian wanted to tell Ferris about her fears of yesterday but decided to wait until they were in each other's arms.
"Have I told you how much I missed you, how glad I am to be home my darling?" Marian said, preparing the mouthwash. It was the third time she had told him how much she missed him, how glad she was to be home.
She attempted to muffle the crudeness of the gargling. As a result swallowed a mouthful of
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