Damsel Under Stress

Page 29

“My appointment was with Mr. Meredith,” Philip said. “I understand he is currently chairman of Vandermeer and Company.”
“Mr. Meredith is indisposed. His niece is taking care of the business for him in his absence.” She glanced around as if to make sure she wasn’t being overheard, then whispered, “He had a stroke last week, totally incapacitating. I’m sure Miss Meredith will be officially installed as chair very soon.”
If we were meeting with a woman, I was in trouble. All my preparation had been designed to distract a man, but I was playing the kind of woman other women tend to hate on sight. It looked like I’d have to wing it and see what kind of person this Miss Meredith was.
Soon a frazzled-looking young man came into the lobby. “Mr. Smith? This way, please.” He appeared as though at any second he was going to slip a note saying something like, “Help! I’m being held hostage!” into our pockets. I recognized the look; I’d looked much like that in my old job.
The chairman’s office was even more lush than the lobby. The desk in the center of it was large enough that you could have held a feast for twenty of your closest friends on it, with room for several courses’ worth of silverware at each place setting and space in the middle for a string quartet to provide entertainment. I sank past my three-inch heels and almost up to my ankles in a carpet that could have doubled as a mattress. But what really caught my eye was the thing lurking in the back corner of the office.
Six
It was a skeletal creature much like one that had been stalking me for the past couple of months. I couldn’t be sure if it was the same one, since all skeletal magical creatures look pretty much alike to me, but the one I knew had worked for Idris. That made this meeting suddenly a lot more interesting. I had a feeling I wasn’t supposed to be able to see Mr. Bones, who stood silent and still in his corner, so I forced myself not to react. That was a challenge, like ignoring the giant pink elephant in the middle of the room.
Then Miss Meredith came into the room and shook Philip’s hand. “Mr. Smith? I’m Sylvia Meredith. Thank you for coming in.” I wasn’t sure which was more dangerous, her or Mr. Bones. She was a shark in human form—sleek, efficient, and deadly, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had a couple of extra rows of teeth. The ones we could see were white and even, and she turned the full force of them on Philip in a smile I was sure was supposed to be charming but which looked like it might draw blood. Philip turned out to be pretty smart, for he didn’t look like he was the least bit taken in by her attempt at charm.
I remembered that I was supposed to be a brassy oil heiress, so I waded through the carpet and stuck my hand out at her. “Sue-Ellen Hunt, of the Texas Hunts,” I said, thickening my drawl as much as I could and still be understood. “Nice place you got here. I bet this office runs you about as much as my daddy’s whole estate back home. We like things big in Texas, you know.” I was beginning to annoy myself, so I was sure this act was like fingernails on a blackboard to a New Yorker.
“Miss Hunt is my fiancée,” Philip said, not missing a beat. “When she heard about my appointment with you she thought it would be beneficial for her to meet with you, as well.”
“I gotta do something with my trust fund other than buy shoes, right?” I said with as much gusto as I could muster.
“Please, have a seat,” Miss Meredith said, gesturing toward a pair of plush wingback chairs. Only the tiniest hint of annoyance showed in her eyes, but I got the feeling that meant she was steaming inside. Nothing but the strongest emotion would get past her icy facade.
I more or less tuned out the financial discussion while I checked out the setting. There was a row of portraits on one wall, going from a modern photograph of a white-haired, stern-jawed man on one end to oil paintings of men wearing powdered wigs at the other end. About five portraits in from the modern end, the look of the people changed abruptly. They went from having Philip’s refined features and golden hair to looking coarser and meaner. It was obvious when the company had been usurped. Other than the skeletal creature still lurking in the corner, I didn’t spot anything obviously magical. An uninformed person who wasn’t immune to magic wouldn’t have noticed anything odd.
When I blinked back to the meeting, it seemed to be wrapping up. “Thank you for the information. I shall have to consult with my advisors,” Philip was saying.
Sylvia eyed him warily. I hoped she hadn’t noticed the resemblance between him and all those portraits on the wall. “You won’t find our specialized services anywhere else,” she said. “We’re one of the only high-level banking houses exclusively serving the magical community.” She turned to me and added, “I hope what we have to offer interests you, as well.”