question stayed with him until he reached his mother’s house where the entire Santini clan had gathered for a big Sunday dinner. As his two nephews met him at the door with a football, challenging him to a quick game before dinner, he forgot about Amanda Bennett and headed for the backyard.
With a few strokes of her pencil, Jill put the finishing touches to her Church Hill sketch and pulled back from her drawing board for a look at what six weeks of intense work had accomplished.
The design of the sixty-four-story luxury-apartment complex had changed dramatically since she had first presented her idea to the Maitland Group two months ago. She’d replaced the angles, which she had thought too harsh, with gentle curves, and she’d added an additional wing to the structure, giving it a cloverleaf effect.
Because the new design was as unique and exciting as anything she had ever done, Jill had taken a gamble, hoping that Ben Maitland, a man who had a flair for the unusual, would like it. Now, as a serious case of jitters began to set in, she grew more and more fearful. What if she had misjudged him? What if Maitland hated the new design?
“May I come in?”
Recognizing the deep, baritone voice of Philip Van
Horn, Jill swung around in her chair, already smiling. “Of course.”
Just under six foot and slender, Philip Van Horn was an attractive man with dark hair that was beginning to gray and probing, intelligent brown eyes. Except for a mild setback shortly after his daughter’s death, he hadn’t allowed his grief to interfere with his work. Under his leadership, B&A’s legal department was running as smoothly as ever.
“I thought I’d stop by to wish you luck in Richmond,” he said. Standing beside Jill, he let his gaze skim the sketches and he shook his head in wonder. “I’m not an architect but I can see why Cyrus insisted I take a look at these.”
Jill beamed with pride. “You really like them?”
“Like them? Jill, this is a fabulous concept. One look at this building and Ben Maitland won’t be able to turn it down.”
“Thank you, Philip.” Jill started rolling up the drawings. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little nervous. So much rests on this presentation.”
“You’ll do fine,” Philip said with a confidence that restored some of her own. “When will you be back?”
She hesitated but only briefly. “This evening. I didn’t want to run the risk of having to cut my meeting short, so I booked a later flight.” There was no reason to tell him, or anyone at B&A, any more than that.
“Let us know how it went as soon as you get a chance.”
“All right. Just don’t pop the Dom Perignon without me, will you?”
Philip laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She was sliding the drawings into a tube when her secretary rang her on the intercom. “Your taxi is here, Jill.”
“Thanks, Cathie. Tell the driver I’ll be right down.”
The tube in one hand and her purse slung over her shoulder, Jill said a hasty goodbye to Philip, who gave her the thumbs-up sign, and was off.
Except for a couple slouched in the front row and the two actors on the brilliantly lit stage, the Aquarius Theater on Forty-third Street was empty.
The male actor, a short, portly man in a goatee, was reading from a script, while Lilly Grant, the star of One Night In Paris, delivered her lines from memory and with great panache. She wore comfortable pants in a muted shade of brown and a cream blouse. Her brown hair was gathered on top of her head in a rather unruly knot—a la Katharine Hepburn. It was a look she had been perfecting for years and it suited her to a tee.
Amanda Bennett’s sister had always been one of Dan’s favorite people. Broadway’s most legendary leading lady for almost forty years, she hadn’t let fame and fortune go to her head, and while acting was an integral part of her, and one never really knew when she wasn’t acting, she was warm, funny and undeniably charming.
Hands in
With a few strokes of her pencil, Jill put the finishing touches to her Church Hill sketch and pulled back from her drawing board for a look at what six weeks of intense work had accomplished.
The design of the sixty-four-story luxury-apartment complex had changed dramatically since she had first presented her idea to the Maitland Group two months ago. She’d replaced the angles, which she had thought too harsh, with gentle curves, and she’d added an additional wing to the structure, giving it a cloverleaf effect.
Because the new design was as unique and exciting as anything she had ever done, Jill had taken a gamble, hoping that Ben Maitland, a man who had a flair for the unusual, would like it. Now, as a serious case of jitters began to set in, she grew more and more fearful. What if she had misjudged him? What if Maitland hated the new design?
“May I come in?”
Recognizing the deep, baritone voice of Philip Van
Horn, Jill swung around in her chair, already smiling. “Of course.”
Just under six foot and slender, Philip Van Horn was an attractive man with dark hair that was beginning to gray and probing, intelligent brown eyes. Except for a mild setback shortly after his daughter’s death, he hadn’t allowed his grief to interfere with his work. Under his leadership, B&A’s legal department was running as smoothly as ever.
“I thought I’d stop by to wish you luck in Richmond,” he said. Standing beside Jill, he let his gaze skim the sketches and he shook his head in wonder. “I’m not an architect but I can see why Cyrus insisted I take a look at these.”
Jill beamed with pride. “You really like them?”
“Like them? Jill, this is a fabulous concept. One look at this building and Ben Maitland won’t be able to turn it down.”
“Thank you, Philip.” Jill started rolling up the drawings. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little nervous. So much rests on this presentation.”
“You’ll do fine,” Philip said with a confidence that restored some of her own. “When will you be back?”
She hesitated but only briefly. “This evening. I didn’t want to run the risk of having to cut my meeting short, so I booked a later flight.” There was no reason to tell him, or anyone at B&A, any more than that.
“Let us know how it went as soon as you get a chance.”
“All right. Just don’t pop the Dom Perignon without me, will you?”
Philip laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She was sliding the drawings into a tube when her secretary rang her on the intercom. “Your taxi is here, Jill.”
“Thanks, Cathie. Tell the driver I’ll be right down.”
The tube in one hand and her purse slung over her shoulder, Jill said a hasty goodbye to Philip, who gave her the thumbs-up sign, and was off.
Except for a couple slouched in the front row and the two actors on the brilliantly lit stage, the Aquarius Theater on Forty-third Street was empty.
The male actor, a short, portly man in a goatee, was reading from a script, while Lilly Grant, the star of One Night In Paris, delivered her lines from memory and with great panache. She wore comfortable pants in a muted shade of brown and a cream blouse. Her brown hair was gathered on top of her head in a rather unruly knot—a la Katharine Hepburn. It was a look she had been perfecting for years and it suited her to a tee.
Amanda Bennett’s sister had always been one of Dan’s favorite people. Broadway’s most legendary leading lady for almost forty years, she hadn’t let fame and fortune go to her head, and while acting was an integral part of her, and one never really knew when she wasn’t acting, she was warm, funny and undeniably charming.
Hands in
Similar Books
