Marry in Haste

“Weird sandwiches,” Barbara answered. “He likes to be surprised and the deli experiments on him.”

Parker Laird liked to be surprised? The same Parker Laird who fanatically scheduled his days in fifteen-minute blocks?

“Tell her about the mushrooms,” Nancy called from the other office.

“Oh, yeah. Last time, they sent grilled portabella mushrooms and tomato on sourdough.” Barbara sighed. “Heavenly.”

“A mushroom sandwich? I’ll take chicken salad, thank you very much,” Abby said.

As soon as Barbara disappeared into her office, Abby closed her eyes and exhaled. She’d handled this hurdle and convinced Barbara and Nancy to support her. She’d acted managerial. Her business professor would have been proud.

But it was Parker she wanted to please.

Thanks to Jay, he was already forty-five minutes behind schedule. His brother was going to have to learn how to facilitate meetings if he had any intention of returning from El Bahar within a year.

Lunch remains were scattered across the conference table and people had lingered, gabbing aimlessly for at least twenty minutes after all business had been conducted. Parker had allowed ten minutes for socializing prior to the meeting. He failed to understand why it was necessary to supplement the allotted time during business hours. It was inefficient.

Jay was inefficient and nothing Parker did seemed to change his ways.

Parker eyed the frown on his brother’s face and felt the minutes tick away.

“Surely it isn’t necessary that I attend the—” Jay broke off and scooted the gold and black invitation toward him. “Chamber Music Preservation Board Awards luncheon.” He grimaced. “How many of these things are you on, anyway?”

“We are on dozens. Thank Mother.”

“Then let her go.”

“She is.”

“Then you go.”

“I’ll be at a Zoological Society fund-raiser.”

“Trade you.” Jay grinned.

“Ordinarily that wouldn’t be a problem, but continuity is a factor here.”

“English, please.”

Parker leveled a look at him. “You’re leaving next week, so be a good boy and accept the pretty plaque.”

“And what did I do?”

“You donated fifty thousand dollars to refurbish the Green Room at Allen Hall.”

Jay gave a low whistle. “I’m very generous.”

Parker spared a brief smile. “The Symphony Guild is wining and dining you tomorrow night.”

“Why?” Jay looked pained.

“Because you’re leaving next week and they hope you won’t forget them.”

“Why? Is their Green Room shabby, too?”

“Not anymore.”

Jay heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Parker, how did I get a reputation as a classical music lover?”

“By donating generously to the arts in Houston. Mother is very pleased.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You sicced those stuffy music people on me, didn’t you?”

Parker met his gaze. “I ran out of wall space for plaques.”

Jay drummed his fingers on the conference table. “Tell me, am I free any night this week?”

Parker noted that Jay had not brought his agenda with him—the cordovan leather agenda Parker had given him. Typical. He consulted his own planning book, where he was keeping track of Jay’s schedule. “Let’s see. Thursday is the Aria Society.” He looked up. “Another farewell dinner.”

“It could be worse. It could be the whole opera group.”

“That’s on Friday night. A performance in your honor.”

“Oh, joy.” Jay groaned and dropped his head to the table.

“Now tonight... You’ll enjoy tonight. The University of Houston Jazz Ensemble. Dinner and dancing.” Parker was planning to go to that one himself. Dancing meant contact with women. Parker knew better than to allow Jay unchaperoned contact with women so near to his departure for El Bahar.