Dance to the Piper (7 page)

Reed had entertained musicians from childhood. He considered himself understanding of their needs, their ambitions, their vulnerabilities. In his free time he preferred the company of the less complicated. The less driven. His own ambitions were intense enough. Valentine Records was at the top of the heap and would remain there. He would see to that. Not only for his father, but for himself. If, as it often happened, he had to work ten hours a day for and with entertainers, he needed a breather from them when the day was over.

But he couldn't stop thinking of Maddy.

What made her tick? Reed pushed aside the sales figures and turned to look at his view of midtown. The rain turned it all into a misty gray fantasy. She didn't appear to have developed the protective shield that her profession seemed to require. She was rising to the top, like cream, but didn't seem awed by it. Could she really be as basic and uncomplicated as she seemed?

Why did he care?

He'd eaten dinner with her—one short, simple dinner. They'd had an interesting, somewhat intimate conversation. They'd shared a brief, friendly kiss. That had rocked him back on his heels.

So he was attracted. He wasn't immune to bright, vital looks or a firm, compact body. It was natural to be curious about the woman, with her odd philosophies and dangling thought patterns. If he wanted to see her again, there was no harm in it. And it was simple enough. He'd just pick up the phone and call her. They could have dinner again… on his terms. Before the evening was over, he'd discover what it was about her that nagged at him.

When his door opened, Reed's glance of annoyance turned into a warm smile few were ever treated to. "A little wet for golf?"

"Club's a tomb when it rains." Edwin Valentine walked into the room with the long, slow steps of a big man, then dropped heavily into a chair. "Besides, I

start to feel old if I don't make it in here every couple of weeks."

"Yeah, you look feeble." Reed leaned back in his chair and studied his father's ruddy, strong-featured face. "What's your handicap these days?"

"Four." Edwin grinned, pleased as a boy. "All in the wrist. Got wind you've all but signed Libby Barlow away from Galloway Records."

Cautious, always cautious, Reed merely inclined his head. "It looks that way."

Edwin nodded. The office had been his for nearly twenty years. The decisions had been his then. Still, he didn't feel any twinge of regret, any twist of envy at seeing his son behind the desk. That was what he'd worked for. "Great set of pipes on that little lady. I'd like to see Dorsey produce her first album with us."

Reed's lips curved slightly. His father's instincts were, as always, bull's-eye. "It's been discussed. I still think you should have an office here." He held up a hand before his father could speak. "I don't mean you should tie yourself down to regular hours again."

"Never had regular hours in my life," Edwin put in. "Well, irregular hours, then. I do think Valentine Records should have Edwin Valentine."

"It has you." Edwin folded his hands, and the look he gave his son was direct and calm. More, much more passed between them than the words. "Not that I don't think you could use some advice from the old man now and again. However, you're at the helm now. The ship's holding steady."

"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 Sates." 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 sates 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 awhile. 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 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 the 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 record 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 she 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 better strap himself down or enjoy the ride." Edwin grinned and took the last roll. "Damned if I wouldn't enjoy the ride."