Free Suite Embrace by Anita Bunkley Page B

always look out for him.” With a toss of her head she pulled off her reading glasses and finished the last of her wine. “How much would you need right away? To get the project rolling?”
    â€œDepends on a lot of things—the length of time needed to shoot it, how big my film crew is, travel and living expenses. Equipment rental, studio fees, talent fees. Musicians to score it. It can add up pretty fast.”
    Virina frowned, hating the man’s rambling, I-know-what-I’m-talking-about attitude—one that always set her perfect teeth on edge.
    â€œDon’t worry about the money, and forget about going to visit the woman in Michigan, Richard. You will make your film about my son. His life, his career, his wonderful achievements in a sport where he was always the only man of color on the slopes. And I will get the investors. When can you start?” Virina pressed on in an insistent tone. She hated dickering with people over useless details. Obviously, the man needed to be told what he was going to do and she had no problem telling him.
    â€œThe first stage is to create a rough cut of the project to show to the distributors…a short piece that will give them an overview of what I envision. If they like it, we’ll sign contracts and I’ll move ahead to complete the film. You know, now that I’ve had a chance to talk to you, I do think a documentary on Mark Jorgen would be best. It’ll sell…and I know I could get him a book deal and a DVD that ought to sell like crazy on the Internet.”
    â€œYou’re right,” Virina commented with self-important assurance. “My son remains one of the most highly rated skiers in the world. Of any race. His story is inspiring, his talent is tremendous. All because I managed his career and kept him in Europe where he was able to train with the best, compete at an intense level and move in the right social circles. That’s extremely important, Richard.”
    With a lift of his brows, Richard Nobel went on, “I understand he’s working in the States now…running a ski school near Aspen.”
    â€œJust a temporary thing,” Virina managed, sniffing back her displeasure. “For some reason he got it into his head that he wanted to slow down…and teach. Why he wants to bury himself in that nondescript place, I don’t understand. However, that’s all well and good for now, but things are going to change. He’ll soon realize that he must remain in the spotlight if he wants to profit from his accomplishments.”
    â€œIf I profile Mark, I’d want to bring his story right up to today…to include what he’s doing now. I’d like to cover him teaching at the ski school, working with his staff, interacting with young people. You know what I mean?”
    â€œOf course,” Virina agreed. “He’s an excellent instructor and any student who is fortunate enough to train with him is very lucky.”
    Richard nodded his agreement. “You know, I plan to cover the Black Winter Sports Reunion in Aspen for Sports Challenge magazine, anyway, so I’ll be hitching a ride with a group of journalists who are going out there at the end of the month. I can talk with Mark then.”
    â€œNo, no. I’ll talk to him first, and if you want, you can fly out with me on my plane,” Virina told him, calculating that her last husband, Count Wilhelm Willard, owed her six more trips on his private plane—part of her divorce settlement.
    She pulled a slender, silver Tiffany pen and miniscule notepad with a green leather cover from her Mary Francis bag and began to write. “Give me your contact information so my pilot can call you after he arranges the flight to Aspen.”
    â€œThanks. That’d be fantastic,” Richard gushed, going on to give Virina three different phone numbers that she could use to reach him.
    â€œUmm. Is your wife…your family