Secrets of the Lotus. Michelle Garren Flye

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      “Sort of a bad picture, actually.” She struggled to keep her voice down. “Nowhere near up to their usual standards. Taken too far away without a flash. Of course, the photographer probably knew Dan wouldn’t let him get away with his memory card intact if he came close enough for us to see him.”

      Lamar sputtered. “You admit that’s you?”

      “Of course, it would be ridiculous to deny it. It says so right there. The picture’s not great, but NY Style got its facts straight.”

      “Why the hell did NY Style scoop us on the fact our own society reporter is dating Dan Mason?” Lamar’s voice was now deadly calm. Josie knew that was a bad sign.

      “I’m not dating him.” She bit her lip and told herself it wasn’t really a lie. “I went with him to the benefit last night for the story. That’s it. We’re friends. I swear.”

      “That’s it? You know better than that. He’s on your beat, Jo! Hell, he practically is your beat. He’s one of the richest, most eligible bachelors in New York. His father was the mayor, for heaven’s sake.” He took a deep breath. “Best damn mayor this city’s ever had.” He frowned, noticing the flowers for the first time. “Jesus H. Christ! Are those from him?”

      “Uh, yeah. He ordered them online.” She wondered wildly why she would mention that fact, except that it had stuck in her head from her conversation with Dan.

      Lamar still stared at the massive arrangement. “Why would he send you flowers like this? Are you sure you’re just friends?”

      “I—” She remembered the night before in vivid detail, from the pleasure in Dan’s eyes when she opened the door to her apartment to the feel of his hand on hers before he left her. And James’s voice on the answering machine: Sorry I missed you. She looked down, her eyes catching one of the lilies already wreaking havoc on her sinuses. “I don’t know. Honestly, Lamar, I don’t know.”

      Several seconds passed before Lamar let out his breath in an explosive blast that sent pollen flying out of the lily Josie’s eyes were fixed on. “You’re off society. Emily will take over. You’re on theater.”

      Josie opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “Save it. You know how I feel. Your objectivity goes when you get too involved. I’ve been there.” He glanced around at the other reporters and editors who had gathered to watch the scene. “Em, get Jo’s notes for this week’s column and get to work.”

      “Sorry, Jo.” Emily gave Josie a smug smile as the editor’s office door closed. “I know how long you’ve worked to get this beat going. And you’ve made a real success of it—”

      “Can it, Em.” Jo handed a file folder over. She sat behind her flowers. She’d rather anybody else take over her beat. Emily had been after it since she’d started work at the magazine six months before. But she reminded herself to be professional. “If you need anything else, let me know.” She brushed pollen off her desk and pulled her Rolodex over, wondering how many of her contacts might also be active in the theater.

      “Since you mention it…” Emily perched on the side of Josie’s desk, assuming a sweet smile. “How about an interview, set the record straight about your relationship with Dan Mason…”

      “Since you mention it, my personal life is off limits. You do your job, but you do it without any insider tips from me. That means I don’t answer questions about Dan, me or me and Dan. Got it?”

      “Got it.” Emily sounded far too cheerful for Josie’s tastes. She saluted Josie with the folder, blowing more pollen onto her desk.

      Josie laid her head down on her arms again. Then she sneezed.

      * * * *

      Dan Mason sat next to his father in a white rocking chair on the sun porch at his parents’ mansion. Dan Mason, Sr., hadn’t altered his blank gaze out the window or spoken in the past half hour. However, the sun porch was pleasantly warm and peaceful in the winter sun, and Dan let himself relax. He couldn’t remember ever sitting there. Before, his trips to his home had always been consumed by business, usually spent closeted in his father’s office.

      Remembering the office and the night Josie had surprised him there brought with it startling and unexpected warmth. Dan glanced at his father’s staid face and dragged his mind away from Josie, resolving to stay focused.

      He took his father’s hand in his. “I’m doing what I can, Dad. I’m keeping the business going for you. I think you’d approve of the decisions I’ve made.”

      His father didn’t respond. After a moment of waiting for the flash of light that sometimes—less and less often now—replaced the blankness in his father’s eyes, Dan released his father’s hand, placing it carefully back on the arm of the rocking chair. He gazed over the back lawn, the gardens, the fountain, the stables and the garage. From where he sat he couldn’t see them, but Dan knew there was a tennis court and a nine-hole golf course out there somewhere on the twenty acres his family owned. His dad had played golf when he was well. Dan remembered being irritated a few times when he’d had to track his father down because he’d left his cellphone at the house. But he couldn’t remember the last time they’d played golf together.

      Would the pangs of guilt ever end? Dan tightened his grip on his chair arms. He couldn’t keep feeling guilty about what he’d never done for his father. He had to concentrate on what he could do for him now. That was where Josie came in, and that was all she could mean to him. He wondered why she hadn’t called.

      To be honest, he’d expected to hear from her immediately after her discussion with her editor. Without intending to, Dan pulled out his cellphone, checking for missed calls though he knew he had none. Why the hell hadn’t she called yet?

      He laughed at himself. “Been a long time since I’ve sat by the phone waiting for a girl to call me,” he said to his father. “You know?”

      “What about Tammy Johansen?”

      “Tammy?” СКАЧАТЬ