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“Oh, dagnabbit,” Brock said. “Can you keep it up, son? Is it big enough to matter when you do get it up?”
Van turned vermillion in one one-thousandth of a second flat. “Can I what?” he hollered. “Is it what?”
He twisted this way, and seemed to be satisfied no onewaswithinhearingdistanceofthisconversation. He twisted that way. Ditto.
He tried to bolt.
Brocksighed.Thisboykeptdoingthingsthatdidn’t surprise a person one little bit. He and Mr. Kazinski had planned for this.
Before Van could get all the way to his feet, Mr. Kazinski casually let his cane drop across Van’s lap into Brock’s waiting hands, and Brock held on for dear life.
“Now, son, I know these are difficult things to talk about,” Brock said.
“Let me tell you the story of the little blue pill,” Mr. Kazinski said.
“I — do not need — a little — blue pill.”
Brock had never before heard a sentence come forth in such a strangled voice. Nor through such gritted teeth. Interesting. Anyway, he and Mr. Kazinski had clearly been able to convey the painful but necessary message. Brock was inclined to believe the boy about not needing a blue pill. Still, Van now knew who he could come to if he ever had a problem heneededtotalkoverwithasympatheticolderman. No point in belaboring the point any longer, even if the boy would sit still for it any longer.
Which he wouldn’t. Brock knew he had to change this subject, fast, before he and Mr. Kazinski saw nothing except the back of Van’s perfectly cut suit, no matter how tightly they hung on to the cane pinninghimtotheparkbench.They’dprobablybeen able to hold him down so far only because the boy was afraid of hurting them. Getting on in years could have its advantages if you looked for them. You just had to accept them in order to cash in on them.
“There’s something else we needed to talk to you about too,” Brock said. “We hear you’re doing some talking with Fred Andretti about that takeover of Van Deventer Ventures.”
“Not exactly. I’m seeing him later this afternoon. He refused to talk to me at first, but I bribed him with the promise of a Puppy Palace. I don’t know why those things are in such demand, but I’m not knocking it. I don’t know how I’m going to go from talking about his dogs and their box to talking about the company, but maybe I’ll find a way.”
Hmm,Brockthought.Theboywasn’tsoundinglike himself. He was sounding dejected and demoralized behind the brave front with the gaping cracks in it.
“I made a low-ball bid and catered a party for the Andrettis on the weekend,” Brock said.
“Oh? Anyone end up in a pool this time?”
Brock cleared his throat. No need to dwell on his complete lack of guilt feelings over helping the prince into the pool. “No one. But there was one who deserved it. The boss’s son.”
“Snot-nosed kid?” Van sounded distinctly uninterested in anything Brock had to say.
He wasn’t too surprised. He wasn’t explaining well so far, but then, he wasn’t at all sure what he was explaining. He just had a feeling he knew something that Van could put together with something else to do something. Or something.
“Older than a kid,” Brock said. “Late twenties, early thirties. He’s on your side, actually. He was having a knock-down fight with Pops over pulling out of the deal. Young Ricky wants Daddy to buy your company so Junior can run it.”
Van came as close to snorting as his starched alter ego would ever come.
“Andretti’s a smart businessman, too smart to let that happen, at least not until Junior’s grown up and smartened up some.”
Brock watched Van closely. Speaking of smart businessmen … Brock knew with no modesty he was brilliant with food. He wasn’t much good with business. Van was. Brock had a hunch the biz whiz could do something with this bit of gossip.
Sure enough, Van stroked his jaw thoughtfully.***
Who needs men when you’ve got man’s best friend?Makethatman’sbestfriends,Marycorrected herself.
With her first smile in what felt like a very long time, she beamed down at Lancelot and across at Guinevere. They herded their six puppies through the park much better than Mary could have done, with or without Va —
With or without anyone’s help. She had all eight dogs on leashes, but she knew she’d be tied up like a roast ready for the barbecue spit if it weren’t for mama and papa keeping their children in line.
It was a crisp fall day, crackling with all the energy nature summoned to get everything ready for a nap at this time of year. Mary wasn’t into it as much as she would have liked. Her talent for glorying in the now around her was a bit rusty.
Truth be told, it wasn’t her idea to be here at all. The park held painful memories. She didn’t like to even think about walking here, but Cyn had asked Mary to come today, and be sure to bring Lancelot.
Mary would do anything for Cyn. Besides, the anything in this case was a no-brainer to put into the yes department. Cyn wanted to borrow Lancelot for one of her fund-raisers. This one was to support teaching former soldiers with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder how to train service dogs for handicapped veterans. The program was working miracles for both the trainers and those the dogs would help. Mary didn’t know why Cyn wanted to meet here in the park, but she’d hung up before Mary could ask.
