Page 9 of You'll Find Out
“No. I told him, from the beginning, that Imagination wasn’t for sale!”
“He doesn’t look like a man who would be easily discouraged,” Dena mused, and let her green eyes follow the hallway to the outer office, where she had seen Shane pass on his way out of the building. “Maybe you should hear him out,” she suggested, and tossed an errant copper lock back into place behind her ear.
“About selling Imagination? You must be kidding!”
“Well,” Dena began, shrugging her slim shoulders, “why not? If the price is right . . .”
“Dena! Listen to you! Imagination was your great-grandfather’s lifeblood. We can’t just sell it to the first man who’s interested . . .”
“Of course we can. Stop living in the glory of the past and face facts, Mara! The company’s losing money, and it has been for quite some time. Unless you can come up with another inspiration like those ridiculous reincarnations of space creatures from the last hit space movie—”
“You mean the plastic action figures fromInterplanetary Connection?”
“The same. Since we lost the contract for the movie’s sequel and we haven’t come up with any other blockbuster toys to fill the gap, Imagination’s profits have plunged! A man like—”
“Shane Kennedy,” Mara supplied, with a touch of reluctance. Aside from her personal feelings, Mara knew that Dena was close to the truth.
“He might just be the godsend that we’re looking for!” Dena touched her lips absently and Mara could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. To herself, Mara begrudgingly admitted that Dena was making a valid point. “Come on, Mara, what do you need this company for, anyway? You know as well as I do that you’d rather be spending more time with Angie—she needs you . . .” Dena’s words hit a raw nerve with Mara, guilty that she left her daughter with June every day so that she could work full-time. Dena pressed her advantage. “And, after all, what do you know about running a toy company?”
Mara’s back stiffened. “I think I know as much as Peter did. At least I should,” she sighed. “My degree in business administration should count for something, don’t you think? And I worked in several offices before I married Peter and came to work here . . .”
Dena didn’t seem convinced, and Mara felt tired and drained from the ordeal of meeting Shane again. Suddenly she gave into the pressure. “All right, Dena, you know that I’m opposed to the idea, but if it makes you feel any better, I’ll talk with him and try to keep an open mind. I’m supposed to meet with him tonight—to discuss an alternate proposition rather than a complete buy-out.”
“Tonight?” A light of interest brightened Dena’s face, and then she quickly sobered. “Just give him a chance, Mara. Hear him out. What have you got to lose?”
“The company,” Mara murmured, but wisely Dena didn’t comment. With a flourish, Mara locked the door of her office and headed out of the building. She wondered about Dena’s concern. It seemed almost too genuine. Wearily, Mara thought that perhaps she had judged Dena too harshly at times. And yet, whether it was intuition or mental wounds from past experience, Mara still didn’t feel that she could completely trust the svelt-figured redhead. Was it possible that she was overly suspicious of Peter’s older sister?
It was later than usual for Mara to leave the office. She pulled out of the parking lot under the building and carefully merged her car into the traffic of the business district of Asheville. The small sidestreets of town were relatively free from traffic at this time of evening. The air was thick and hazy as Mara drove through the colonial town with its splashes of modern architecture and onto the highway that would eventually take her to the countryside and the Wilcox estate. Fortunately the Friday night traffic had thinned to the point that allowed Mara to wheel her imported car home in record time. The lemon-colored Renault darted up the prestigious tree-lined drive and ground to a halt near the garage at the back of the house. Mara slipped from behind the wheel of the car and half ran up the brick walk. She was too preoccupied to notice the bloom of the late azaleas or the hint of honeysuckle that perfumed the air as she opened the kitchen door and called out her familiar greeting.
“Angie! June, I’m home . . .”
June appeared promptly from the den near the back of the house, and a wave of relief washed over her pinched features. “I was just about to call the office,” the older woman chastised as she removed her reading glasses. “I was beginning to get worried about you. It’s late . . .”
“Nothing to worry about,” Mara replied with a wan smile. June’s piercing eyes looked questioningly at Mara. To avoid her direct gaze, Mara reached for a glass and turned on the faucet. The cool water slid deliciously down her parched throat. After a lengthy drink she dried her hands on a nearby dish towel and faced her mother-in-law. June’s features were drawn, and Mara couldn’t help but wonder about the older woman’s health.
“I had an unexpected appointment at the last minute,” Mara explained. “That’s why I’m late.” She gave her mother-in-law a warm smile and tried to brush June’s fears aside, but the anxious expression on June’s face indicated that Mara had failed to reassure her. “I’m sorry,” Mara sighed with genuine affection. “I should have called.”
“It’s all right, dear. I suppose I worry too much,” June acquiesced, and then with more vehemence than Mara thought possible, June continued. “It’s just that you’re so wrapped up with that damned toy company!” Mara stiffened at her mother-in-law’s change in attitude, and June chuckled softly. “Forgive me, Mara, I shouldn’t use such foul language.”
Mara looked seriously at the little old woman. “Do you think that I’m neglecting Angie?” she asked, mentally bracing herself for June’s reply. Once again the guilt for the hours away from her child weighed heavily on her conscience.
“Oh, goodness, no, Mara!” June murmured and touched a fond hand to Mara’s shoulder. “Angie’s just fine. If anything, I’d say that she’s a little spoiled.”
“Then?”
“I don’t think that you take enough time for yourself. If you’re neglecting anyone, it’syou.”
Mara let the pent-up air escape from her lungs, but June hadn’t finished. “It’s unnatural the way you spend all of your time at home or the office. You’re young, you should be around young people . . .”
June’s lecture was interrupted by the sound of the back screen door slamming and light, running footsteps hurrying to the kitchen. Angie let up a shriek of delight and gales of childish laughter when she caught sight of her mother. “Mommy! Mommy!” Angie shouted, and scurried over to Mara’s outstretched arms.
Mara scooped her daughter up off the floor. “How’s Momma’s big girl?” she asked, and placed a kiss on Angie’s smudgy cheek.
Angie giggled with joy and tightened her arms around Mara’s neck. “Southpaw got kitties!” Angie declared, crossing her chubby arms importantly over her chest.
“She does?” Mara asked, and Angie wriggled out of her arms. Before the tiny feet hit the floor, they were in motion, and the little blond girl ran out the back door as quickly as she had entered. “Hurry, Mommy . . . I show you the kitties!” she called from somewhere in the vicinity of the back porch.
“So the big day has finally arrived?” Mara asked June.
