think he's going to like that, Shelley. He's beginning to sound downright surly."
"Probably because the beneficial effects of the attentions he received from last night's lady love are wearing off,"
Shelley suggested with a trace of bitterness she couldn't quite hide.
If Carol was beginning to have her own suspicions about who the lady with Joel might have been last night, she
wisely refrained from voicing them.
"What am I to tell him if he shows up in front of my desk in another hour?" she demanded instead.
With sudden decision, Shelley stood up and began stuffing some papers into her briefcase. "You can tell him I've
left for the day. It will be the truth!"
"Oh." Helplessly, Carol watched the one member of Mason Wells & Associates whom she hadn't yet labeled
"temperamental" walk out of the office in high dudgeon.
By the time she reached her yellow Toyota in the office parking lot, Shelley knew for certain where she was headed
for the rest of the afternoon. It was time Dean Ackerly learned about the potential gold mine he was sitting on and
couldn't yet sell. It was time he learned they might both be pawns in the high-stakes game Joel Cassidy was playing.
The game he might be playing, Shelley couldn't resist correcting herself as she drove through the sprawling suburbs
of Phoenix toward the main headquarters of Ackerly Manufacturing. There was still a chance Joel was dealing a
straight hand with her. After all, he had consented to extend that loan. So many "ifs," she thought ruefully. So many
unknowns.
At Ackerly headquarters she announced herself to the receptionist, who sent her straight upstairs to the office of
the new president. There again she was waved along until she found herself in Dean Ackerly's plushly carpeted,
elegantly paneled suite. Shelley hid a small frown as he rose with alacrity to seat her. Attired in a light-colored
linen-weave business suit and surrounded by such handsome furnishings, he appeared to command fully as much
financial power as Joel Cassidy; it was difficult to remember that he was, in fact, in debt to the pinball mechanic to the
tune of a hundred thousand dollars. Life, Shelley told herself reflectively, was not always fair.
"Shelley, I'm delighted to see you. I had no idea you were going to drop by this afternoon. If you're here for those
inventory records, I can probably call downstairs and have them hurried along," Dean began a little anxiously.
"That's not why I'm here," she told him with a reassuring smile. "I won't need them until the first part of next week.
This has to do with something else entirely."
Quickly, she told him what she had learned at lunch, keeping her voice smooth and businesslike. Not for the world
did she want Dean to guess how involved she had managed to get with Cassidy in the course of forty-eight hours!
When she was through, he sat back in his padded leather chair with a murmured exclamation of incredulity. "I'll be
damned. What a crazy situation. All that money almost in Ackerly's grasp and we can't quite reach out and take it"
"Not as long as it's being used as collateral on the Cassidy note," Shelley agreed with a short nod. "Remember, too,
that these are just rumors," she added hastily. "There might not be any truth in them."
"What's your best guess?" he charged, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk and fix her with a narrowed
gaze.
"My best guess is that the information is solid. The source is reliable."
"What about the possibility of paying off the Cassidy loan and stalling the bank for a while? If the conglomerate
came through with an offer of half a million, we could then pay off the bank, too!"
"I don't think the bank will stall, Dean," Shelley said honestly. "And we don't yet have that offer in hand, either. If
we did, there might be some negotiating we could do." Shelley broke off, trying to work out the possibilities in her
mind.
"When do you think the offer will come?" Dean asked flatly, watching
"Probably because the beneficial effects of the attentions he received from last night's lady love are wearing off,"
Shelley suggested with a trace of bitterness she couldn't quite hide.
If Carol was beginning to have her own suspicions about who the lady with Joel might have been last night, she
wisely refrained from voicing them.
"What am I to tell him if he shows up in front of my desk in another hour?" she demanded instead.
With sudden decision, Shelley stood up and began stuffing some papers into her briefcase. "You can tell him I've
left for the day. It will be the truth!"
"Oh." Helplessly, Carol watched the one member of Mason Wells & Associates whom she hadn't yet labeled
"temperamental" walk out of the office in high dudgeon.
By the time she reached her yellow Toyota in the office parking lot, Shelley knew for certain where she was headed
for the rest of the afternoon. It was time Dean Ackerly learned about the potential gold mine he was sitting on and
couldn't yet sell. It was time he learned they might both be pawns in the high-stakes game Joel Cassidy was playing.
The game he might be playing, Shelley couldn't resist correcting herself as she drove through the sprawling suburbs
of Phoenix toward the main headquarters of Ackerly Manufacturing. There was still a chance Joel was dealing a
straight hand with her. After all, he had consented to extend that loan. So many "ifs," she thought ruefully. So many
unknowns.
At Ackerly headquarters she announced herself to the receptionist, who sent her straight upstairs to the office of
the new president. There again she was waved along until she found herself in Dean Ackerly's plushly carpeted,
elegantly paneled suite. Shelley hid a small frown as he rose with alacrity to seat her. Attired in a light-colored
linen-weave business suit and surrounded by such handsome furnishings, he appeared to command fully as much
financial power as Joel Cassidy; it was difficult to remember that he was, in fact, in debt to the pinball mechanic to the
tune of a hundred thousand dollars. Life, Shelley told herself reflectively, was not always fair.
"Shelley, I'm delighted to see you. I had no idea you were going to drop by this afternoon. If you're here for those
inventory records, I can probably call downstairs and have them hurried along," Dean began a little anxiously.
"That's not why I'm here," she told him with a reassuring smile. "I won't need them until the first part of next week.
This has to do with something else entirely."
Quickly, she told him what she had learned at lunch, keeping her voice smooth and businesslike. Not for the world
did she want Dean to guess how involved she had managed to get with Cassidy in the course of forty-eight hours!
When she was through, he sat back in his padded leather chair with a murmured exclamation of incredulity. "I'll be
damned. What a crazy situation. All that money almost in Ackerly's grasp and we can't quite reach out and take it"
"Not as long as it's being used as collateral on the Cassidy note," Shelley agreed with a short nod. "Remember, too,
that these are just rumors," she added hastily. "There might not be any truth in them."
"What's your best guess?" he charged, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk and fix her with a narrowed
gaze.
"My best guess is that the information is solid. The source is reliable."
"What about the possibility of paying off the Cassidy loan and stalling the bank for a while? If the conglomerate
came through with an offer of half a million, we could then pay off the bank, too!"
"I don't think the bank will stall, Dean," Shelley said honestly. "And we don't yet have that offer in hand, either. If
we did, there might be some negotiating we could do." Shelley broke off, trying to work out the possibilities in her
mind.
"When do you think the offer will come?" Dean asked flatly, watching
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