Will?”
“Tomorrow,” said Will.
“I like this enthusiasm! Are you interested in business? That is, as a complement to your worthy altruistic concerns?”
“Are you asking me if I’m interested in making money, sir?”
Haxley grinned. “I suppose I am.”
“Well, who isn’t?” asked Will, trying to match his smile.
“There’s no law against it,” said Haxley. “At least, none that state it in so many words.”
“So I wouldn’t be breaking the law, then?” asked Will, keeping things light.
“That depends on who you talk to—I’m joking of course.” Haxley chuckled good-naturedly. “These are complicated times, Will, and whenever that’s the case it’s best to keep things simple. So we’ll start you with some relatively straightforward tasks, see how you do, and then determine where we go from there.”
Haxley threw back the rest of his drink, stuck his cigar in his mouth, and stood up. Will stood up too.
“That’s all there is to it, Will,” said Haxley, with his politician’s grin. “You aced the interview.”
The door behind Haxley opened. A man stood in the doorway, backlit, hard to see at first. He wore a tuxedo, like Haxley, although his tie was already tied. He stood tall and straight, on the slender side, loose limbed, long arms hanging at his side. Will’s senses went on high alert.
“Will, this is Mr. Elliot. He’s a colleague of mine.”
Mr. Elliot walked toward Will, extending his hand. When he moved into the light, Will realized he was an older man, somewhere in his sixties, at least twenty years older than Haxley. His face was crosshatched with fine lines, creating a texture almost like parchment, but he moved with vitality and his grip was powerful. He had a full head of thick white hair, wore rimless eyeglasses, and had a pencil-thin gray mustache.
“How do you do, Will?” said Elliot, putting both of his hands on Will’s and smiling warmly. “What a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you, too, sir,” said Will.
Will thought he seemed harmless, but something about him jangled his nerves.
Elliot’s pale blue eyes sparkled with delight, and he patted Will’s hand a couple of times before he let it go. He carried an air of heavy gravity about him, just about the most “grown-up” grown-up Will had ever encountered.
“Stan’s told me so much about you,” said Elliot. He had a deep rumble of a voice that almost sounded like a cat’s purr, but his words were clipped with precise diction.
Haxley subtly steered them all toward the door. Will heard live chamber music playing in one of the nearby rooms.
“I’d invite you to join us for dinner, Will,” said Haxley, “but frankly we don’t want to bore you to death.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that,” said Elliot with a soft little laugh.
“That’s okay, sir, I forgot my tux anyway,” said Will.
Haxley and Elliot chuckled politely.
The kind of laugh you’d give when your polo pony does something adorable.
“Nine o’clock sharp tomorrow morning, Will,” said Haxley, and walked off tying his tie.
“We look forward to seeing much more of you around here,” said Elliot; then he gave a friendly wave and followed Haxley through an archway.
Will waved back and smiled broadly. I’m really in. Now to start scouting the place.
When he turned around, a young woman was standing behind him. In a black cocktail dress and heels, she stood a couple of inches taller than he did.
“What are you doing here, West?” she asked.
It took him a moment to place her—the girl from the counselors alumni group who’d stared him down outside their residence hall the other day. Her dark hair reached to her tanned and muscled shoulders. She had a swimmer’s build, legs for days and startling dark blue eyes that somehow looked familiar.
“I had a meeting with Mr. Haxley,” he said. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”
“My family’s heard a whole lot about something called Will West in the
“Tomorrow,” said Will.
“I like this enthusiasm! Are you interested in business? That is, as a complement to your worthy altruistic concerns?”
“Are you asking me if I’m interested in making money, sir?”
Haxley grinned. “I suppose I am.”
“Well, who isn’t?” asked Will, trying to match his smile.
“There’s no law against it,” said Haxley. “At least, none that state it in so many words.”
“So I wouldn’t be breaking the law, then?” asked Will, keeping things light.
“That depends on who you talk to—I’m joking of course.” Haxley chuckled good-naturedly. “These are complicated times, Will, and whenever that’s the case it’s best to keep things simple. So we’ll start you with some relatively straightforward tasks, see how you do, and then determine where we go from there.”
Haxley threw back the rest of his drink, stuck his cigar in his mouth, and stood up. Will stood up too.
“That’s all there is to it, Will,” said Haxley, with his politician’s grin. “You aced the interview.”
The door behind Haxley opened. A man stood in the doorway, backlit, hard to see at first. He wore a tuxedo, like Haxley, although his tie was already tied. He stood tall and straight, on the slender side, loose limbed, long arms hanging at his side. Will’s senses went on high alert.
“Will, this is Mr. Elliot. He’s a colleague of mine.”
Mr. Elliot walked toward Will, extending his hand. When he moved into the light, Will realized he was an older man, somewhere in his sixties, at least twenty years older than Haxley. His face was crosshatched with fine lines, creating a texture almost like parchment, but he moved with vitality and his grip was powerful. He had a full head of thick white hair, wore rimless eyeglasses, and had a pencil-thin gray mustache.
“How do you do, Will?” said Elliot, putting both of his hands on Will’s and smiling warmly. “What a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleased to meet you, too, sir,” said Will.
Will thought he seemed harmless, but something about him jangled his nerves.
Elliot’s pale blue eyes sparkled with delight, and he patted Will’s hand a couple of times before he let it go. He carried an air of heavy gravity about him, just about the most “grown-up” grown-up Will had ever encountered.
“Stan’s told me so much about you,” said Elliot. He had a deep rumble of a voice that almost sounded like a cat’s purr, but his words were clipped with precise diction.
Haxley subtly steered them all toward the door. Will heard live chamber music playing in one of the nearby rooms.
“I’d invite you to join us for dinner, Will,” said Haxley, “but frankly we don’t want to bore you to death.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that,” said Elliot with a soft little laugh.
“That’s okay, sir, I forgot my tux anyway,” said Will.
Haxley and Elliot chuckled politely.
The kind of laugh you’d give when your polo pony does something adorable.
“Nine o’clock sharp tomorrow morning, Will,” said Haxley, and walked off tying his tie.
“We look forward to seeing much more of you around here,” said Elliot; then he gave a friendly wave and followed Haxley through an archway.
Will waved back and smiled broadly. I’m really in. Now to start scouting the place.
When he turned around, a young woman was standing behind him. In a black cocktail dress and heels, she stood a couple of inches taller than he did.
“What are you doing here, West?” she asked.
It took him a moment to place her—the girl from the counselors alumni group who’d stared him down outside their residence hall the other day. Her dark hair reached to her tanned and muscled shoulders. She had a swimmer’s build, legs for days and startling dark blue eyes that somehow looked familiar.
“I had a meeting with Mr. Haxley,” he said. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”
“My family’s heard a whole lot about something called Will West in the
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