and make her feel at ease; but he was taken aback when through the door came the blonde in blue with the barefooted boyâs fishing rod on her shoulder and his floppy straw hat on her head.
She barely gave him a chance to introduce himself.
âDid you know that a few hundred yards from here is a stretch of the Mississippi River? And not only does it have a rickety dock and a riverboat, it has been stocked with actual fish!
Marcus laughed.
âWe do strive for verisimilitude, Miss Ross.
âIâll remember that.
She gestured with the rod toward the bookcase.
âMay I?
âOf course.
She leaned the rod upright and placed the hat on the shelf next to Caesarâs head. Then she took a seat, crossed her legs, and lightly bounced her foot.
Inwardly, Marcus smiled. Because in the course of sixty seconds, he had learned more about Evelyn Ross than the studioâs investigators had learned in three weeks. The young lady sitting before him was no native of New York. The ease of manner, the disarming smile, the glimmer in the eye were all indigenous to that tribe of women who dwell from the shores of the Great Lakes to the port of New Orleans. Over the course of two hundred years, these farm-bred charms had evolved to provide the rest of us some consolation when losing the upper hand in horse-trading, card-play, and courtship.
If an engagement had been broken back in New York, Marcus thought to himself, then Evelyn Ross was the one who had done the breaking.
She pointed to the seven stacks of paper.
âDo you buy that stuff by the pound?
âYou jest, Miss Ross. But my father ran a feed store in Arkansas. I spent my summers selling all manner of things by the pound; not to mention by the bushel and the peck.
âThat must have made you quite hardy.
âIt made me very good at estimating weights.
âReally, she said with a playful squint. Then how heavy am I?
âThatâs not the sort of question a gentleman should answer.
âIâm not the type to take offense.
He tilted his head.
â105 pounds . . . ?
âNot bad! Youâre only off by two.
âWas I heavy or light?
âNow,
thatâs
going a step too far.
Oh, Marcus could see why a young banker in Manhattan might have made a rushed proposal; and he could see why it wouldnât stick. He even felt a touch of pity for the poor bastard. But it did make one wonder: If the young man was the jilted party, then why had Miss Ross left New York?
She swung her foot up and down, waiting for him to speak.
âI appreciate your coming on such short notice, he began. I hope it wasnât too much of an inconvenience.
âNot at all.
âIâm glad to hear it. The reason we asked you to stop by is very straightforward. In essence, we want to thank you. We know that you and Miss de Havilland have become good friends; but it has also been brought to our attention that back in January you helped her out of quite a fix . . .
âWhat are friends for, she said.
âPrecisely, Miss Ross. What are friends for? Miss de Havilland is a wonderful young woman with a bright future. But as youâve seen firsthand, there are those who would seek to profit from her slightest misstep. So, we would deem it a terrific favor if you would continue to keep an eye out for her.
âWho is this
we
you keep mentioning, Mr. Benton? Is there someone hiding with you back thereâbehind all those stacks of paper?
âNo, Marcus said with a smile. By
we
, I generally refer to the studio. But more specifically, Iâm referring to Mr. Selznick, our chief; and Jack Warner over at Warner Brothers, where Miss de Havilland is still under contract. They both have a keen interest in Miss de Havillandâs welfare.
âAh, said Miss Ross. And exactly what sorts of missteps are they imagining? Surely theyâre not afraid of another broken shoulder strap?
âOf course not, said Marcus with a
She barely gave him a chance to introduce himself.
âDid you know that a few hundred yards from here is a stretch of the Mississippi River? And not only does it have a rickety dock and a riverboat, it has been stocked with actual fish!
Marcus laughed.
âWe do strive for verisimilitude, Miss Ross.
âIâll remember that.
She gestured with the rod toward the bookcase.
âMay I?
âOf course.
She leaned the rod upright and placed the hat on the shelf next to Caesarâs head. Then she took a seat, crossed her legs, and lightly bounced her foot.
Inwardly, Marcus smiled. Because in the course of sixty seconds, he had learned more about Evelyn Ross than the studioâs investigators had learned in three weeks. The young lady sitting before him was no native of New York. The ease of manner, the disarming smile, the glimmer in the eye were all indigenous to that tribe of women who dwell from the shores of the Great Lakes to the port of New Orleans. Over the course of two hundred years, these farm-bred charms had evolved to provide the rest of us some consolation when losing the upper hand in horse-trading, card-play, and courtship.
If an engagement had been broken back in New York, Marcus thought to himself, then Evelyn Ross was the one who had done the breaking.
She pointed to the seven stacks of paper.
âDo you buy that stuff by the pound?
âYou jest, Miss Ross. But my father ran a feed store in Arkansas. I spent my summers selling all manner of things by the pound; not to mention by the bushel and the peck.
âThat must have made you quite hardy.
âIt made me very good at estimating weights.
âReally, she said with a playful squint. Then how heavy am I?
âThatâs not the sort of question a gentleman should answer.
âIâm not the type to take offense.
He tilted his head.
â105 pounds . . . ?
âNot bad! Youâre only off by two.
âWas I heavy or light?
âNow,
thatâs
going a step too far.
Oh, Marcus could see why a young banker in Manhattan might have made a rushed proposal; and he could see why it wouldnât stick. He even felt a touch of pity for the poor bastard. But it did make one wonder: If the young man was the jilted party, then why had Miss Ross left New York?
She swung her foot up and down, waiting for him to speak.
âI appreciate your coming on such short notice, he began. I hope it wasnât too much of an inconvenience.
âNot at all.
âIâm glad to hear it. The reason we asked you to stop by is very straightforward. In essence, we want to thank you. We know that you and Miss de Havilland have become good friends; but it has also been brought to our attention that back in January you helped her out of quite a fix . . .
âWhat are friends for, she said.
âPrecisely, Miss Ross. What are friends for? Miss de Havilland is a wonderful young woman with a bright future. But as youâve seen firsthand, there are those who would seek to profit from her slightest misstep. So, we would deem it a terrific favor if you would continue to keep an eye out for her.
âWho is this
we
you keep mentioning, Mr. Benton? Is there someone hiding with you back thereâbehind all those stacks of paper?
âNo, Marcus said with a smile. By
we
, I generally refer to the studio. But more specifically, Iâm referring to Mr. Selznick, our chief; and Jack Warner over at Warner Brothers, where Miss de Havilland is still under contract. They both have a keen interest in Miss de Havillandâs welfare.
âAh, said Miss Ross. And exactly what sorts of missteps are they imagining? Surely theyâre not afraid of another broken shoulder strap?
âOf course not, said Marcus with a
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