Meet Mr. Prince / Once a Cowboy...: Meet Mr. Prince

As they exited the cab, a uniformed doorman opened the door of the building as soon as he recognized Zach, saying, “Good afternoon, Mr. Prince.”

“Good afternoon, Thomas.”

The doorman smiled at Georgie.

There was a security guard sitting at a desk in the lobby of the building, and he, too, called Zach by name. “Cold one out there today,” he said as they approached.

“Sure is,” Zach said, then added, “How’s Mona doing?”

“Better,” the guard said. “She’ll get her cast off next week.”

“I know she’ll be glad.” Turning to Georgie, Zach said, “This way,” and led her around the corner to a bank of three elevators.

Georgie couldn’t help thinking what a fortune this building must cost to live in. How did Zach afford it? She knew his job at the foundation couldn’t begin to pay enough to live on this scale. In fact, she knew, because Alex had recently mentioned it, that the board of directors had been talking about raises for the administrative staff since salaries at the Hunt Foundation had been found to be lower than comparable companies, and if they wanted to remain competitive and attract the best employees, they had to spend some money.

When the elevator doors opened on the eleventh floor, Georgie wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find they were already in Zach’s apartment, but instead they walked out into a hallway. There were two entrances that Georgie could see. Zach headed for a double doorway midway down the right side of the hall. After unlocking the doors, he gestured her ahead of him.

They entered a small foyer containing an antique lowboy upon which sat an ornate Chinese vase filled with fresh flowers. “It’s me, Fanny,” Zach called. Seconds later, an attractive fifty-something woman with dark hair and a pleasant smile greeted them.

“Fanny, this is Georgie Fairchild, my new assistant. Georgie, I’d like you to meet Fanny Whittaker, our housekeeper and the one person I can’t live without.”

Georgie smiled and shook the woman’s hand. The housekeeper’s hazel eyes, filled with intelligence, gave Georgie a quick once-over.

“How’s Katie doing?” Zach asked.

“She’s much better today, Mr. Prince. In fact, she’s watching a movie now. I fixed her some tea and cinnamon toast.”

“And where’s Emma?” He turned to Georgie. “Emma’s my three-year-old. Normally, when she’s around, you can’t get a word in edgewise.”

“Sabrina took her for the day,” Fanny said.

“Sabrina’s a saint.”

“Well, Emma was driving poor Katie crazy. She wanted to play Go Fish and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Zach shook his head. “She’s a pistol,” he said to Georgie. “When she sets her mind to something, you cannot sway her.”

Georgie laughed. “Sounds like me when I was little. Actually, my sisters would say that sounds like me now.”

“Uh-oh,” Zach said. “That doesn’t bode well for me, does it?”

Georgie shrugged. “We’ll see. Depends on whether you agree with me or not.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Katie.”

A few minutes later, they stood in the family room, whose windows faced Central Park. Although it was bitterly cold outside, the afternoon sun gave the illusion of warmth as it streamed through the windows. Katie was propped against pillows on one of two matching love seats and covered by a gaily patterned quilt. A TV tray sat next to her, and Georgie could see the remnants of her snack along with a box of tissues.

Zach’s daughter had his dark hair, but her eyes were a warm brown and her face was heart-shaped. Even seated, Georgie could tell she was petite. Her face lit up at her father’s appearance. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, honey. Fanny tells me you’re feeling better today.”

Katie nodded. “Lots better.”

“Katie, I want you to meet my new assistant. This is Miss Fairchild. Georgie, this is my daughter Katie.”

“Hi, Katie.”

“Hello, Miss Fairchild.”

“Oh, please. Call me Georgie. Everyone does.” Georgie smiled at the girl.

Katie studied her as if considering. Her expression remained noncommital.

“We had a meeting at the Carlyle Clinic and we’re on our way back to the office,” Zach said. “We just stopped by to pick up some files.”

“Oh.”

There was no mistaking the disappointment in Katie’s voice.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’ll try to be home early. In the meantime, get a lot of rest. When I get home, we’ll have a game of chess.”

She gave him a dubious look. “Emma and Jeremy will be here by then.”

“I know, but we’ll still have our game, I promise.”

Katie shrugged. “Whatever.” In that gesture, Georgie saw all the times Katie’s interests had had to take a backseat to her younger siblings’ demands for attention. Georgie could relate. As much as she now loved her sisters, she could remember all those times she wished they’d just disappear.

Bending down, Zach kissed his daughter on the cheek. “We’ve got to get back to the office now, but I’ll be home no later than six.”

Katie sighed. “Okay.” She picked up the remote and before they’d even left the room, Georgie saw that the movie was playing again.

Cornelia hated being late. She felt it was rude and sent the message that you thought your time was more valuable than the person’s you were meeting. But today her lateness was unavoidable, because when she’d gotten in her car she’d discovered her battery was dead.

She’d immediately called Kit Hoover, the old friend she was meeting for lunch at the club, and Kit said not to worry. Then Cornelia had called a cab. She simply didn’t have time to deal with her car this morning.

“You’re looking very chic today,” Kit said as Cornelia approached their table, where Kit was already halfway through a glass of wine. She eyed Cornelia over the tops of her oversized red frames, which she wore perched halfway down her nose. Kit kept her short hair dyed the black of her youth and had half a dozen pairs of glasses with bright frames that matched her outfits. Today was no exception; she wore a fire-engine-red pants suit.

“Thank you. So are you. I like the red,” Cornelia said, sitting opposite her friend. Cornelia rarely, if ever, wore primary colors, favoring instead the soft, muted shades that were more suitable to her peaches-and-cream coloring.

“And I love that sea-green dress,” Kit said. “On you, at any rate.” She drank another healthy slug of wine.

Cornelia told herself she was not Kit’s mother, nor was it her job to monitor how much Kit drank. But sometimes Kit’s tendency to over-imbibe bothered Cornelia.

They didn’t talk while Cornelia looked over the menu, then gave their orders to their waiter, an older man who had been working at the club almost as long as Cornelia had been a member. He greeted Cornelia with a big smile. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Fairchild,” he said.

“Thank you, Fred.”

After he left to place their orders, Kit said, “So what’s new? I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.”