you sound to me. Now listen to me. I don't care what you have to do to sign her, but do it. Woo her, win her, fly out to see her, take her to dinner. Be your best charming self. She's worth it. And I want her work in the center. Do it for me.” She was actually wheedling. She smiled to herself. This was new.
“You're crazy, and I don't have time.” He was lying in bed, grinning to himself. His mother was going nuts. “You do it.”
“I won't. And if you don't, I'll come back to the office full time and drive you round the bend.” She sounded as though she meant it, and he had to laugh.
“I'll do it, I'll do it.”
“I'll hold you to that.”
“Jesus. All right. Are you satisfied? Can I go back to sleep now?”
“Yes. But I want you to follow this up right away.”
“What's her name again?”
“Adamson. Marie Adamson.”
“Fine. I'll take care of it tomorrow.”
“Good, darling. And … thank you.”
“Good night, you crazy old bat. And by the way, congratulations. Can I give away the bride?”
“Of course. I wouldn't dream of having anyone else. Good night, darling.”
They each hung up, and at her end Marion Hillyard was finally at peace. Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe work it was too late. The two years had taken a hard toll on both of them. But it was all she could do. No, that wasn't true. She could have told him the truth. But with a small sigh, as she drifted off to sleep, she admitted to herself that she wasn't quite that ready for sainthood yet. She'd help them along a little. But she wouldn't do more than that. She wouldn't tell Michael what she had done. He would probably find out eventually, but perhaps, by then, there would be enough happiness to cushion the blow.
Chapter 24
George kissed her tenderly on the mouth and the soft music began again. Marion had hired three musicians to play at the wedding in her apartment. There were roughly seventy guests, and the dining room had been cleared as a ballroom. The buffet had been set up in the library. And it was a perfect day. The very last day in February and a clear, cold, magnificent New York day. Marion was completely recovered from her little mishap in San Francisco, and George looked jubilant. Michael kissed her on both cheeks, and she posed between her husband and her son for the photographer from the Times. She was wearing champagne lace to the floor and both George and Michael were formally dressed in striped trousers and cutaways. George wore a white carnation as his boutonniere, Michael a red one, and the bride carried delicate beige orchids, specially flown in from California along with the lavish show of flowers around the apartment. Her decorator had seen to it himself.
“Mrs. Calloway?” It was Michael offering her his arm to the buffet as she laughed girlishly at the new name and then smiled at George. “Celebrate it,” as Nancy had said, and that was what they had done. Michael was pleased for them both. They deserved it. And they were spending two months in Europe to relax. He couldn't get over how sensible she had been about stepping out of the business. Maybe she had been ready to retire after all, or maybe her heart was finally frightening her after all this time, but she and George had been wonderful to work with as they transferred the power from their hands to his. He was the president of Cotter-Hillyard now, and he had to admit that he didn't mind the way it felt President … at twenty-seven. He had made the cover of Time. And that had felt good, too. He supposed his mother and George would make People with the wedding.
“You look very elegant, darling.” His mother beamed at him as they swept into the library. It was filled with flower trees and tables laden with food. And the walls seemed to be lined with additional servants.
“You look pretty snazzy yourself. And the house doesn't look bad either.”
“It's pretty, isn't it?” She seemed amazingly young as she flitted away from him to talk to some of the guests and give last-minute instructions to the servants. She was totally in her element, and as excited as a girl. His mother, the bride. He smiled to himself again at the thought.
“You're looking very pleased with yourself, Mr. Hillyard.” The voice was soft and familiar, and