After Tex Read Free

propose we do with them?”
    â€œI was thinking of a feature on using decorative accents like this to rediscover the child within. Talk about a whimsical touch. I mean, how could you not smile every time you walk into a room with Howdy Doody or Lucy staring you in the face? I’ve even heard that people are collecting those really old sand pails to remind them of when they were kids at the beach.”
    She paused and watched Megan closely. “So, what do you think?” she finally prodded.
    Megan considered the idea thoughtfully, deliberately taking her time, then grinned at Christie’s bouncing impatience. “I think it’s terrific. Congratulations! You have your first story assignment.”
    â€œOh, wow! You mean it?”
    â€œI mean it. At a fee above and beyond your salary, of course. Have Todd draw up the contract and make sure accounting reimburses you for whatever you have to buy for the photo shoot.”
    â€œLike a real freelance deal?” Christie asked.
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    Christie rushed around the desk, embraced her, then backed away self-consciously. “Sorry, Miss O’Rourke.”
    Megan grinned. “No apology necessary. And I think from now on you should call me Megan.”
    The girl’s eyes brightened. “Really? Oh, wow.”
    Megan might have been amused by the unabashed excitement if it weren’t for the fact that not very long ago she had reacted in exactly the same way to every triumph—minor and major. Still did, if the truth be known, but she tried to confine it to the privacy of her office.
    â€œOne last thing,” Megan added, “you might ask around, see if any decorators know of a home doing anything like this. Todd can give you a list of people to call.”
    Christie bounded toward the door to share her news, but Megan stopped her. “Hey, Christie, when the story’s done and all the photos have been shot, I’d like you to bring Howdy Doody back to me, okay?”
    â€œYou want the puppet?”
    â€œSure. I need to remember being a kid, the same as everybody else,” she said. The pitiful truth was, though, she couldn’t really remember ever being a kid at all.
    Slowly the outer offices fell silent. Megan worked on her column for the next issue of the magazine, not coming up for air until darkness had fallen outside and the sky was lit with the twinkling lights of endless rows of skyscrapers. It was her favorite time of day in New York, when the streets were emptying of traffic, the impatient blare of horns was dying and the view from her office turned into a picture postcard. Daytime might offer a glimpse of Central Park in all its orange-and-red autumnal glory, but this was the view that had been on the one postcard she’d ever gotten after her mother abandoned her.
    Some days Megan wondered if New York’s pullhad been professional or personal. Had she subconsciously come here hoping to spot Sarah O’Rourke on a street corner? It was a question she rarely asked herself and had never adequately answered, just as she never examined too closely how a woman whose own background was so dysfunctional was qualified to promote life-style choices for others.
    To her surprise, given the hour, one of the phone lines lit up and she heard Todd answering. She was even more surprised when he stepped through the door rather than buzzing her. The sympathetic expression on his face set her pulse to pounding.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œIt’s Mrs. Gomez.”
    No doubt the housekeeper had been persuaded to play intermediary for her grandfather. “I can’t talk to Tex tonight. Please just tell her that for me.”
    Todd stayed right where he was. “You need to take the call, Megan.”
    If she hadn’t already had this gut-deep feeling of dread building inside, his somber tone would have set it off. With reluctance, she reached for the phone.
    â€œMrs. Gomez,” she