Free The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set by Christopher Smith Page B

what’s happening in the Middle East.”
    “Maybe in the beginning,” Celina said.   “But when the public learns what we’ve done, we’ll be fine.”
    “They’re panicking,” George said.   “They know that until WestTex is ours, our agreement with Iran is only verbal.   They feel there’s a strong possibility the Navy won’t move into the Gulf on the date we’ve been given.   They’re going to pull out.   I can feel it.”
    “So, we find someone else.”
    “Agreed.   I’m having lunch with RRK tomorrow.   If it falls apart, how do you feel Ted Frostman at Chase?”
    “I like Ted,” she said.   “He’s a good guy.   Think he’ll play?”
    “Maybe.   And God knows he owes us.   I’ll set up a meeting with him.”
    “Are we good here?” she said.   “I’d like to go home.”
    George looked at her in surprise.   “Home?   Are you all right?”
    If she told him what had happened, it would ruin his evening.
    “Today was pretty intense,” she said.   “And I’m feeling every bit of it.”   She looked over the crowd.   “The party will wind down soon.   I’ve spoken to everyone I needed to speak to.   If you don’t mind, I’d like to call it a day.”
    It was pouring when she left Redman International. Those members of the press who hadn’t been invited inside immediately started to take her picture.   She nodded at the short, white-haired doorman standing beneath the canopied entrance and together, they hurried toward the limousine parked at the curb.
    The press followed, recording her exit for the world.   Lights popped.   She stepped into the back of the car, told the driver to get her out of there and was home fifteen minutes later, packing Eric’s belongings.
     

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER NINE       
     
    The morning after the party, George Redman was showered, shaved and in his black track suit at a time most people were still in bed asleep.   Before meeting RRK for lunch, he planned on running three miles in Central Park.
    He stepped out of his dressing room and moved to where his wife lay motionless in their bed.   They had made love last night and the sheets were now twisted impossibly around her pale legs. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” he said, bending to kiss her on the cheek. “Will you be up?”
    Elizabeth murmured something in her sleep, lifted her head from the pillow and kissed him awkwardly on the chin.   “You smell good,” she said, and turned onto her side.   “Don’t forget to stretch.”
    He went to the elevator at the end of the long hallway.   The apartment was quiet. Besides Isabel, the family cat, who was washing herself on top of an ormolu table, he was the only one up, which was not surprising considering it was just a little past five.
    He stepped into the elevator and pressed a button.   As the floors sped by, George wondered again how the meeting with RRK would go.   If they decided not to back him, he would have to move fast on Ted Frostman at Chase.   He had come too far to miss this deal with WestTex.
    The elevator slowed to a stop.   The doors slid open and George stepped out, pleased to see the lobby nearly back in order.   The cleaning crew had arrived not long after the party ended and they had worked throughout the night.
    George left the building, checked the time on his watch, dutifully stretched his legs and started uptown.   Soon he was running along the nearly barren paths of Central Park, and musing at how far he had come since graduating from Harvard.
    When he graduated in 1977 and moved to Manhattan, it seemed everything he tried failed.   Banks were reluctant to trust a newcomer and so they ignored his requests for loans.   Instead, they chose to finance the established developer over the rookie.   George knew he could go back and work for his father, but that would mean giving up on his dreams.   And so he pressed on, determined to find success.
    It didn’t come.   It seemed the harder George