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Excerpt:
The gray eyes narrowed
again. "You are, aren't you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Meg countered, stiffening.
"Miss Buffy, from
the Funny Bone, last night? You don't look quite the same, but I
hear it in your voice," he told her coolly.
"I'm afraid so,"
Meg confessed, knowing by the tone of his voice that he didn't approve.
There was an oppressive
silence for a long moment. Curtiss Edmunds braided his large-knuckled
hands together and twisted them a few times, thoughtfully. "Yes,
I suppose to do that, you have to -- be intelligent."
"Look, I'm sorry
if you disapprove," Meg apologized. "It was one of those silly college
dares. I have no intention of being a stand-up comedienne for a
living. I've prepared myself to make a living in business. I thought
the best way to do that was to learn business management and focus
of finance. To be where the money is."
"Precisely," he
said. "Yes, I came to that conclusion myself when I was in college.
Mr. Marsh and I are just beginning, but we have some important clients
and pick up new ones every day. We're already having trouble keeping
up and our girls aren't adept at using our computer. That should
be no problem for you."
"No, I've taken
several computing courses," Meg pointed out.
"Miss Buffington,
the position is yours if you want it," Curtiss Edmunds told her,
with a wave of his hand.
Why aren't those
words sending me into rapture? Meg asked herself. It was because
she had heard in his voice that he was about to say something else.
"I trust that escapades
like entertaining at the Funny Bone will not be a part of your life
if you're employed by a firm which maintains a circumspect image."
Meg's backbone stiffened.
"Mr. Edmunds, I'm a competent businesswoman. I can handle whatever
challenge this position presents. But I call to your attention that
what I do on my own time, so long as it's not illegal, immoral,
or unethical, is my affair and not yours. Mr. Boniface has asked
me to perform at the Funny Bone next Friday night. I was undecided
whether I should take him up on his offer. After all, I could use
the money, and telling jokes comes very easily to me. Now, I wouldn't
turn him down for the world."
"But..." Curtiss
Edmunds sputtered, getting to his feet.
Fixing him with
a drop-dead glare, Meg turned on her heel and strode from the room.
She was almost angry that the deep carpet at her feet muffled the
sound of her footsteps. After all, there was no sound so unequivocal
as the loud staccato click of high heels on a hard floor. The firm
statement of her anger was delayed until she reached the paving
of the sidewalk that led to the parking lot. She punctuated it by
slamming her car door.
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