the golden harp, the golden goose, and all the gold doubloons we can carry. Agreed?"
I stuck out my hand. "Agreed, boss."
He shook it. I haven't had many fine moments before nine in the morning, at least not as an adult, but that was one of them.
"We're also going to be careful," he said. "Agreed there?"
"Agreed." It's only tonight, dear diary, that I realize what you're left with if you take the a out of agreed. I would be telling less than the truth if I didn't say that sort of haunts me.
We talked a little more. I wanted to go down and check on Zenith; Roger suggested we wait for Bill, Herb, and Sandra, then do it together.
LaShonda Evans came in before they did, complaining that the reception area smelled funny. Roger sympathized, suggested it might be mildew in the carpet, and authorized a petty-cash expenditure for a can of Glade, which can be purchased in the Smiler's across the street. He also suggested that she leave the editors pretty much alone for the next couple of months; they were all going to be working hard, he said, trying to live up to the parent company's expectations. He didn't say "unrealistic expectations," but some people can convey a great deal with no more than a certain tone of voice, and Roger is one of them.
"It's my policy not to go any further than right here, Mr. Wade," she said, standing in the door of Roger's office and speaking with great dignity. "You're okay... and so are you, Mr. Kenton... most of the time..."
I thanked her. I've discovered that after your girl has dropped you for some West Coast smoothie who probably knows Tai Chi and has been rolphed as est-ed to a nicety, even left-handed compliments sound pretty good.
"...but those other three are a little on the weird side."
With that, LaShonda left. I imagine she had calls to make, a few of which might even have to do with the publishing business. Roger looked at me, amused, and further rumpled his disarranged hair. "She didn't know what the smell was," he said.
"I don't think LaShonda spends a lot of time in the kitchen."
"When you look like LaShonda, I doubt if you need to," Roger said. "The only time you smell garlic is when the waiter brings your Shrimp Mediterranean."
"Meanwhile," I said, "there's Glade. And the garlic-smell will be gone before long, anyway. Unless, of course, you're either a bloodhound or a supernatural houseplant."
Chapter CHAPTER SIX
We looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Maybe just because Tina Barfield was dead and we were alive. Not very nice, I know, but the day brightened from that point on; that much, at least, I'm sure of.
Roger had left little notes on Herb's, Sandra's, and Bill's desks. By nine-thirty we were all gathered in Roger's office, which doubles as our editorial conference room. Roger began by saying that he thought both Herb and Sandra had been aided in their inspirations, and with no more preamble than that, he told them the story of our trip to Rhode Island. I helped as much as I could. We both tried to express how strange our visit to the greenhouse had been, how otherworldly, and I believe all three of them understood most of that. When it came to Norville Keen, however, I don't think either Roger or I really got the point across.
Bill and Herb were sitting side by side on the floor, as they often do during our editorial conferences, drinking coffee, and I saw them exchange a glance of the kind in which eyeballs rolling heavenward play a crucial part. I thought about trying to press the point, then didn't. If I may misquote the wisdom of Norville Keen:"You can't believe in a zombie unless you've seen that zombie."
Roger finished the job by handing Bill that day's B section of The New York Times. We waited as it made the rounds.
"Oh, poor woman," Sandra said. She had dragged in her office chair and was sitting in it with her knees primly together. No sitting on the floor for Mr. and Mrs. Jackson's little girl. "I never fly unless I have to. It's much more dangerous than they let on."
"This is crap," Bill said. "I mean, I love you, Roger, but this really is crap. You've been under pressure - you too, John, especially since you got the gate from your girlfriend - and you guys've just... I don't know... let