Dance to the Piper: The O'Hurleys Page 6

  “I wouldn’t let you down.”

  Edwin recognized the intensity in his son’s voice and understood a portion of the passion behind it. “I’m aware of that, Reed. I don’t have to tell you that of all the things that have touched my life, nothing’s made me prouder than you.”

  Emotion rippled through him. Gratitude, love. “Dad—”

  Before he could finish, or even properly begin, his secretary wheeled in a tray of coffee and sweet rolls. “By damn, Hannah, you’re as sharp as ever.”

  “So are you, Mr. Valentine. Looks like you’ve dropped a pound or two.” She fixed his coffee the way he preferred it. The flash of a wink she sent Reed was too quick to measure. She’d been with the company twelve years and was the only person on staff who would have dared the cheeky look.

  “You witch, Hannah. I’ve gained five.” Edwin heaped two rolls on his plate anyway.

  “You wear it well, Mr. Valentine. You have a meeting at eleven thirty with Mackenzie in sales.” She set another cup on Reed’s desk. “Would you like for me to reschedule?”

  “Not on my account,” Edwin put in quickly.

  Reed glanced at his watch and calculated the next thirty-five minutes. “I’ll see him at eleven thirty, Hannah. Thank you.”

  “Hell of a woman,” Edwin said with a full mouth as the door shut behind Hannah. “Smart move, taking her on as your secretary when I retired.”

  “I don’t think Valentine Records could run without Hannah.” Reed glanced at the rain-drenched window again, thinking of another woman.

  “What’s on your mind, Reed?”

  “Hmm?” Bringing himself back to the conversation, Reed picked up his coffee. “The sales figures look good. I think you’ll be pleased with the results at the end of the fiscal year.”

  Edwin didn’t doubt that. Reed was a product of his mind, of his heart. Only rarely did it concern him that he’d molded his son a little too closely after himself. “Doesn’t look to me like you’ve got sales figures on the brain.”

  Reed nodded, deciding to answer the question while evading 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 a while. 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. “I can say that the dance numbers should knock them back in the aisles.” She looked gratefully at Hannah as the secretary brought in her tea. “We’re working on one this afternoon that should bring down the house. If it doesn’t, I’ll have to go back to waiting tables.”

  “I trust your judgment.” Edwin reached over to pat her hand. “To my way of thinking, if an O’Hurley doesn’t know when a dance number works, no one does.” At her puzzled smile, he leaned back. “I knew your parents.”

  “You did?” Her face lighted with pleasure, the roll forgotten. “I don’t remember either of them talking about it.”

  “A long time ago.” He sent Reed a quick glance as if in explanation and continued. “I was just getting started, hustling talent, hustling money. I met your parents right here in New York. I was on the down end right then, scrambling for pennies and backers. They let me sleep on a cot in their hotel room. I’ve never forgotten.”

  Maddy sent a meaningful glance around the office. “Well, you scrambled enough pennies, Mr. Valentine.”

  He laughed, urging more rolls on her. “I’ve always wanted to pay them back, you know. Told them I would. That was a good twenty-five years ago. You and your sisters were still in booties. I do believe I helped your mother change your diaper.”

  She grinned at him. “It was very difficult to tell Chantel, Abby and me apart, even from that angle.”

  “You had a brother,” he remembered. “A pistol.”

  “He still is.”

  “Sang like an angel. I told your father I’d sign him up once I got myself going, By the time I did and managed to find your family again, your brother was gone.”

  “To Pop’s continued lamentations, Trace decided against a life on t
he road. Or at least he opted to follow a different road.”

  “You and your sisters had a group.”

  Maddy was never sure whether to wince or laugh at the memory. “The O’Hurley Triplets.”

  “I was going to offer you a contract,” he said, and watched her eyes widen. “Absolutely. About that time, your sister Abby got married.”

  A recording contract? More, a contract with Valentine Records! Maddy thought back to those times and imagined the awe that would have accompanied such an announcement. “Did Pop know?”

  “We’d talked.”

  “Lord.” She shook her head. “It must have killed him to see that slip through his fingers, but he never said a word. Chantel and I finished out the bookings after Abby married, then Chantel went west and I went east. Poor Pop.”

  “I’d say you’ve given him plenty to be proud of.”

  “You’re a nice man, Mr. Valentine. Is backing the play a kind of repayment for a night on a cot?”

  “A repayment that’s going to make my company a lot of money. I’d like to see your parents again, Maddy.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She rose then, knowing she was pushing her luck if she wanted to get back across town on time to rehearsals. “I didn’t mean to take up your visit with your father, Reed.”

  “Don’t apologize.” As he stood, he continued to watch her, as he had been for the entire visit. “It was enlightening.”

  She studied him then. He looked so right there, behind the desk, in front of the window, in an office with oil paintings and leather chairs. “We mentioned small worlds once before.”

  Her hair was dripping down her back. Ridiculous red glass triangles dangled from her ears, looking somehow valiant. The yellow bib overalls and the bright blue T-shirt seemed the only spots of color on a gloomy day. “Yes, we did.”

  “You’ll take the plant, won’t you?”

  He glanced at it. It was pitiful. “I’ll do what I can, but I can’t promise a thing.”

  “Promises make me nervous, anyway. If you take them, you have to make them.” She took a deep breath, knowing she should go but not quite able to break away. “Your office is just how I pictured. Organized elegance. It suits you. Thanks for the tea.”

  He wanted to touch her. It amazed him that he had to fight an urge to walk around the desk and put his hands on her. “Anytime.”

  “How about Friday?” she blurted out.

  “Friday?”

  “I’m free on Friday.” Now that she’d done it, Maddy decided not to regret it. “I’m free on Friday,” she repeated. “After rehearsal. I could meet you.”

  He nearly shook his head. He had no idea what was on his calendar. He had no idea what to say to a woman who took a casual statement as gospel. He had no idea why he was glad she had. “Where?”

  She smiled at him so that every part of her face moved with it. “Rockefeller Center. Seven o’clock. I’m going to be late.” She turned and held out her hands to Edwin. “I’m so glad you were here.” In her easy way, she leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Maddy.” Edwin waited until she’d dashed out before turning back to his son. It wasn’t often Edwin saw that dazed look on Reed’s face. “A man runs into a hurricane like that, he’d better strap himself down or enjoy the ride.” Edwin grinned and took the last roll. “Damned if I wouldn’t enjoy the ride.”

  Chapter 4

  Reed wondered if she was playing tricks with his mind. Maddy O’Hurley didn’t look like most people’s idea of a witch, but that was certainly the most reasonable explanation for the fact that he was loitering around Rockefeller Center at seven on a humid Friday evening. He should have been home by now, enjoying a quiet dinner before diving into the mass of paperwork he carried in his briefcase.

  Traffic streamed along Fifth, the pedestrians bad-tempered from heat and noise. Those lucky enough to have a place to go and the time to spare were heading out of town, hoping the heat wave would ease by Monday. Pedestrians hurried by, ties loose, shirts wilting, looking like desert nomads in search of an oasis—an air-conditioned lounge and a long, cold drink.

  He watched without interest as a few children, their eyes shrewd enough to mark out-of-towners, tried to push stiff red carnations for a dollar each. They did a fair trade, but not one of them bothered to approach Reed. He looked neither generous nor naive.

  Though he caught snippets of conversation as people shuffled past, he didn’t bother to wonder about them. He was too busy wondering about himself.

  Why had he agreed to meet her? The answer to that was obvious enough. He’d wanted to see her. There was no use picking at that bone again. She aroused his … curiosity, Reed decided, unable to find a better term. A woman like her was bound to arouse anyone’s curiosity. She was successful, yet she shrugged off the trappings of success. She was attractive, though she rarely played on her looks. Her eyes were honest—if you were the type who trusted such things. Yes, Maddy was a curiosity.

  But why in hell hadn’t he been able to pull his thoughts together and suggest someplace more … suitable, at least?

  A group of teenage girls streamed past, giggling. Reed sidestepped in lieu of being mowed down. One of them glanced back at him, attracted by the aloof expression and lean body. She put her hand over her mouth and whispered urgently to her companion. There was another round of laughter, and then they were lost in the crowd.

  A sidewalk vendor hawked ice cream bars and did a thriving business with a pack of office workers who hadn’t escaped the heat of the city for the weekend. A panhandler milled through the crowd and was far less successful. Reed brushed off a scalper who promised the last two tickets for the evening show down the street at Radio City, then watched him pounce on an elderly pair of tourists. A block away, a siren began to scream. No one even bothered to look.

  Reed felt perspiration trickle down his collar and ease down his back. His watch showed 7:20.

  His temper was on its last notch when he saw her. Why did she look different, he wondered, from the dozens of people churning around her? Her hair and clothes were bright, but there were others dressed more vividly. She walked with a relaxed sort of grace, but not slowly. It seemed she did nothing slowly. Yet there was an air of ease about her. Reed knew that if he bothered to look, he could find five women in that many minutes who had more beauty. But his eyes were fixed on her, and so was his mind.

  Sidetracked by the panhandler, Maddy stood near the curb and dug into her purse. She pulled out some change, exchanged what appeared to be a few friendly words, then slid through the crowd. She spotted Reed a moment later and quickened her pace.

  “I’m sorry. I’m always apologizing for being late. I missed my bus, but I thought I’d be better off going home and changing after rehearsal because you’d probably be wearing a suit.” She looked him over with a bright, satisfied smile. “And I was right.”

  She’d traded the overalls for a full-skirted dress in a rainbow of colors that made her appear to be the gypsy she claimed she was. Everyone on the sidewalk seemed to fade to gray beside her.

  “You might have taken a cab,” he murmured, keeping that short but vital distance between them.

  “I’ve never gotten in the habit. I’ll spring for dinner and make up for it.” She hooked her arm through his with such quick, easy camaraderie that his normal hesitancy toward personal contact never had a chance. “I bet you’re starving after standing around waiting for me. I’m starving, and I didn’t.” She shifted her body to avoid a collision with a woman in a hurry. “There’s a great pizza place just down—”

  He cut her off as he drew her through the crowd. “I’ll buy. And we can do better than pizza.”

  Maddy was impressed when he caught a cab on the first try, and she didn’t argue when he gave the driver an upscale address off Park Avenue. “I suppose I can switch gears from pizza,” she said, always willing to be surprised. “By the way, I like your father.”

  “I can tell you the
feeling was mutual.”

  Maddy didn’t blink when the cab was cut off at a light and the driver began to mutter what might have been curses in what might have been Arabic. “Isn’t it odd about him knowing my parents? My pop loves to drop names until they bounce off the walls—especially if he’s never met the person. But he never mentioned your father.”

  Reed wondered if her scent would linger in the stale, steamy air of the cab after they left. He thought somehow it would. “Perhaps he forgot.”

  Maddy gave a quick, chuckling snort. “Not likely. Once Pop met the niece of the wife of a man whose brother had worked as an extra in Singin’ in the Rain. He never forgot that. It does seem odd that your father would remember, though, or that it would matter, one night on a cot in a hotel room.”

  It had seemed unlikely to Reed as well. Edwin met hundreds and hundreds of people. Why should he remember so clearly a pair of traveling entertainers who had given him a bed one night? “I can only guess that your parents made an impression on him,” Reed answered, thinking aloud.

  “They are pretty great. So’s this,” she added as the cab pulled up in front of an elegantly understated French restaurant. “I don’t get up this way very often.”

  “Why?”

  “Everything I need’s basically concentrated in one area.” She would have slid from the cab on the street side if Reed hadn’t taken her hand and pulled her out with him onto the curb. “I don’t have time to date often, and when I do, it’s usually with men whose French is limited to ballet positions.”

  She stopped herself when Reed opened the door for her. “That was a remarkably unchic thing to say, wasn’t it?”

  They stepped inside, where it was cool, softly scented and quietly pastel. “Yes. But somehow I don’t think you worry about being chic.”

  “I’ll figure out whether that was a compliment or an insult later,” Maddy decided. “Insults make me cranky, and I don’t want to spoil my dinner.”

  “Ah, Monsieur Valentine.”