Page 77 of Smuggler's Cove
“Victor, you are absolutely correct on both fronts. Yes, I said ‘no,’ and yes, I took the afternoon off. I shall be taking more afternoons off beginning next month.”
Victor slid into one of the club chairs. “Do tell, darling.” He folded his arms and crossed his legs.
“Lincoln, Olivia, and I are renting a summer house.”
“Wonderful! Sag Harbor? East Hampton?”
“Neither. It is a little hamlet called Smuggler’s Cove on the Navesink.”
“I don’t think I ever heard of it.” Victor batted his eyelashes.
“Probably not. It is on the Jersey Shore.” Madison waited for a reaction.
Victor winced. “Really?”
“It is not what you think or have seen on MTV. It is quite lovely. Miles from amusement parks, boardwalks, and weekend rowdiness.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” he said. “The rowdiness, I mean.”
Madison began to explain. “Lincoln and I inherited a marina from our Uncle Kirby. It is in dire need of repair. We originally considered selling it right off the bat, but then decided to renovate it before the summer. A lot of people depend on it for their livelihoods, and we, in good conscience, could not let it sit idle for a season.”
Victor’s face beamed. “This sounds exciting. Will you invite me?”
“Only if you promise not to be rowdy.” Madison chuckled. “Now get out of my office. I have a temperamental model to speak to.”
“Oh, please, let me listen,” he said with a puppy-dog expression.
“As long as you promise to be quiet.”
Victor mimed turning a key in a lock in front of his lips.
Madison looked through her contacts list and dialed Vanessa’s number. “Good morning, gorgeous,” Madison said, rolling her eyes at Victor. “I understand you are having second thoughts about the photos you approved.” Madison listened. “Vanessa, we have been through this before. You signed off on them, and the book went to press. There is nothing either of us can do now.” Madison noted the words from the other end of the call. She shook her head. “Of course you can complain to your agent. If you want to cancel all future jobs, I can ask our lawyer to draw up the paperwork.” She winked at Victor. Madison nodded. “I thought so.” She paused. “Yes, we will give you a few more days to review them the next time you do a shoot for us. ’Bye.”
Madison looked at Victor. “And that, my dear boy, is how it is done.”
“You are a miracle worker. Actually, you could have worked a miracle by pulling the book.”
“Nuh-uh. We accommodated her once. The photos were outstanding, she had ample time to review them, and she approved them. Besides, I cannot allow prima donnas to run this magazine.”
“Let me rephrase that. You fixed a situation.”
“Yes, and an unreasonable one. Keeping people on their toes and sticking to the script is part of my job, although sometimes I think that is all I do.” She let out a sigh of resignation.
“Enough of her. Tell me more about this summer rental,” Victor prodded, and Madison described it as best she could without sounding capricious.
“We are going there on Saturday to do some inventory, and Lincoln will be working with one of the local residents. He and his wife own a food truck.”
“Food truck? You are getting down and dirty.”
Madison chuckled. “You should have seen me when my Jimmy Choos got caught in one of the planks. Broke both heels and did a face-plant. I was a slimy, bait-covered mess.”
“Oh, I would have paid to see that,” Victor howled.
“You tell anyone, and I will have to kill you.” Madison laughed. “Now get out of my office. Please.” She shooed him away.
“Okay, but I will hound you for an invitation.”
“Get out, Victor.” Madison grinned at him. He left her office laughing.
