“Dawson, stop fawning over MissValentine and find me the Calvin and Bosch contracts if you please.”
“Of course, my lord.” Giving Lola an apologetic smile, Mr.Dawson handed over her tea, then bowed and left the room.
Cup and saucer in hand, Lola settled back in her seat and waited, but Denys did not move to take his own chair. “Denys, do sit down,” she said. “Or I’ll soon have a crick in my neck.”
“This conversation isn’t going to last long enough for that.” He leaned forward, flattening his palms on the polished oak top of his desk. “There is no way I shall involve myself, or my father, for that matter, in a partnership with you.”
“You are already involved.”
“Not for long. Now if you will pardon me,” he added before she could ask what he meant, “I have an appointment for which I am already late.”
She tilted her head back, and as she studied him, she knew that for now, at least, this discussion was over. If a partnership between them was ever going to work—and she was determined to make it work come hell or high water—she had to begin on as amicable a footing as possible. That meant respecting his schedule.
“Of course.” She put the letter back in her handbag and stood up. “When would you like to resume this discussion? I can make an appointment with your secretary, or—”
“I thought I was clear, but evidently not.” He paused, and his eyes narrowed, seeming to darken their color from brown to black. “I will accept no appointment with you. I will not be discussing anything with you involving the Imperial or any other matter. Not now, and not in future.”
“But Denys, the season is about to begin. Rehearsals forOthellobegin in two weeks. There are decisions we must make, arrangements for—”
“Of course,” he cut her off. “Dawson will give you the names of my solicitors. I’m sure they will be quite happy to keep you abreast of what decisions and arrangements I am making for the Imperial. You will, I trust, let them know where to send your share of the profits?”
Despite her resolve to be as businesslike as possible, Lola felt her temper flare up a notch. “Now wait just a minute. It’s clear you haven’t yet been apprised of the situation by Henry’s attorney, and I appreciate that this is all coming as quite a shock. But Denys, I have no intention of being shunted off to the side while you make all the decisions for the Imperial and run the show without me. Unlike Henry, I intend to participate fully in this partnership.”
A muscle worked along the square line of his jaw. “Not while I breathe air.”
“I know you resent me, you probably even hate me. But the fact remains that I am your father’s full and equal partner, and I have an equal say in what is done.”
“That is another matter you can take up with my solicitors.” Ignoring her sound of frustration, he turned away and exited his office, vanishing from view. “Walk down with me, Mr.Dawson,” she heard him say. “I have some things I need you to do while I’m out.”
Lola moved to follow, but then she thought the better of it and stopped. She could hardly go chasing him down the corridors and staircases of his own offices, especially when he had his secretary in tow, and he was in no frame of mind to listen to her anyway. It was best to give him some breathing room and allow the reality of their new relationship to sink in.
Despite her decision, she was compelled to say one more thing before he had the chance to depart.
“We’re in this together, Denys,” she called to him. “This conversation is not over.”
“Of course it isn’t,” he countered at once. “Nothing with you ever seems to be over.”
With that parting shot, the outer door slammed, leaving her alone.
How?she wondered as she sank back down into her chair.How am I ever going to make this work?
It seemed even more impossible now than it had a month ago, when Henry died.
Lola sighed and leaned back, tiredness washing over her. She’d lost the man who’d been her mentor, her friend, and a better father to her than the man who’d sired her had ever dreamt of being. She’d had to do the last weeks of the winter season with his seat empty every single night, knowing he’d never sit in it again. She’d had to be the one to tell Alice he was gone. And at Mr.Forbes’s insistence, she’d had to sit down with Henry’s odious relations for the reading of the will.
An image of Mr.Forbes came into her mind, the waxed ends of his enormous mustache bobbing as his dry, legal voice had laid out the terms disposing of Henry’s estate—an income to his wife, trusts for each of his children, all the New York businesses and their assets to his son, a dowry to his daughter...
Her presence in the lawyer’s office had been met with hostile resignation on the part of his family, and it was clear they had already been informed she would be receiving some sort of legacy.
For her part, Lola was in the dark. She couldn’t imagine what he might have left her. Not jewelry, surely, or fur coats, or any of the other baubles men gave their mistresses. Alice would have been the one to receive anything like that. Nor could Lola imagine Henry’s leaving her some small token for sentiment’s sake. Henry had been shrewd, selfish, and razor-sharp, and not the least bit sentimental. He might have left her cash, she supposed, although that seemed odd, too, for she had a tidy nest egg of her own thanks to the success of her one-woman show, a show that had been running for five straight years in Madison Square, a show that had made Henry and his fellow investors a great deal of money.
“Lastly, there is a provision for MissValentine.”
Lola sat up a little straighter in her chair. She kept her attention on the attorney, meeting his pale blue eyes over the gold-rimmed pince-nez perched on his nose.
“To MissValentine, Mr.Latham has bequeathed his 50percent share of the Imperial Theatre partnership. In addition, she will receive a capital sum of $50,000—”
Shocked gasps interrupted him, but the members of Henry’s family weren’t the only ones who were shocked. Lola felt as if she’d just been hit by a streetcar.
