Page 28 of Country Music Cowboy
“How about you two come out to the homestead and let us take care of you?” Hank gave Margot a concerned once-over. “But only if you’re feeling up to it, of course.”
“I’m fine.” Margot shook her head. “Damn cancer doesn’t know who it’s messing with.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Loretta had to smile at that.
“So, we accept your invitation.” Margot looked pretty pleased with herself.
Fine. If that’s what Margot wanted, Loretta would deal with it. What happened the night of the IMAs had been a fluke and, as long as she kept her distance and curtailed any tantalizing daydreams, nothing would happen.Not a thing.
“Barbecue, lemonade, buttermilk pie, watch the sunset off the back porch—slow things down a little.” Travis winked at Margot. “Might even get a serenade too.”
“Sold.” Margot was all smiles. It was almost impossible to resist Travis’s flirty side.
Almost impossible.
The elevator doors opened and the four of them took the short stroll down the hall to the offices of Ethan Powell. While the outside of the building was all glass and mirrors, the Wheelhouse Records floors stood out. Heavy wooden beams had been installed overhead. The room was outfitted with leather furniture, mounted instruments signed by famous musicians, and a wall of all the gold and platinum albums they’d produced. The wall ran the entire length of the hallway.
This is why you have to play ball with them. Loretta scanned the names and albums. Sure, she and Margot could go somewhere else…but this was where she wanted to be. When she and Johnny had started out, it was Wheelhouse that recruited them, honed their sound, and built them up. Right or wrong, loyalty mattered to her—in business and in life.
Her gaze wandered to the Frederic Remington bronze statues of bronc riders and cowboys to the ornately framed Charles Russell painting hanging on the wall behind the reception desk. She got the feeling these weren’t reproductions.
Wheelhouse Records could afford to buy originals and install beams that served no structural purpose and put calf-skin leather chairs in their waiting room—and they wanted anyone who stepped foot inside their corporate offices to know that.
The woman behind the desk was pushing sixty, but that didn’t stop her from trying to look like she was thirty. Blond hair ratted high and all but lacquered into place with hairspray. Her nail extensions were pointy and tipped with glitter. She wore a shirt that revealed the girls—all hiked up and strapped into a bra with impressive endurance.
She’d been clicking, with her pointer fingers, on her keyboard until she spied Hank King. Then she was up, coming around her desk to give him a hug.
“Good to see you, Hank,” she said, pressing a sticky pink lipstick kiss on his cheek. “Mr. Powell just buzzed to see if you and Travis were here.”
“You too, Peggy.” Hank kissed her cheek in return. “And here I thought we were early.”
“That’s what I told him.” Peggy waved a dismissive hand. “He’s just excited. And you know how he is when he gets excited.” She gave Travis a quick hug before turning to them. “Margot, I’ve been thinking of you every day.” She came forward to hug Margot, lowering her voice as she said, “You know my sister had breast cancer. She ended up with a double mastectomy, reconstructive surgery, and a brand-new husband to boot. Now she’s healthy as a horse—and she has the boobs of a twenty-year old.” She winked.
“I’ve never had the patience for a husband, but I won’t rule anything out.” Margot chuckled. “I appreciate you thinking of me, Peggy. Now, I know I’ve been a little distracted but, did I get my days wrong? I can’t see how Mr. Ethan Powell can meet with us and the Kings at the same time.”
Peggy smiled. “Don’t you worry about that. Hank and Travis. If you two will head in, right there, to that boardroom?” She pointed to a set of doors on the far left, off of the waiting room. “And you and Loretta go in there on the right.” She pointed to a different set of doors, at the opposite end of the waiting room.
“We’ll see you back here shortly.” Hank’s voice turned raspy, prompting him to cough and clear his throat.
Loretta had noticed Hank do something similar several times before. And the way Travis glanced his father’s way—concerned.
“You better.” Margot winked. “I’m already looking forward to the barbecueandthe serenade.”
Peggy corralled Hank and Travis toward the door so she and Margot headed the other way.
“You heard that, didn’t you? Hank’s cough,” Margot murmured. “That doesn’t sound too good.”
Loretta nodded, pulling open the boardroom door and stepping aside. “I’m sure he’ll get it taken care of.”
“You better believe it.” Margot walked through the door. “That man is about as business savvy as they come—” Margot came to a stop, her mouth hanging open as she stood just inside the door.
“Margot?” Loretta followed. “What’s wrong?” But she then she saw exactly what was wrong.
From his seat at the head of the very long conference table, Hank King chuckled. “I bet Peggy got a real kick out of this.”
Loretta’s faint concern had officially turned into mounting panic.
“Hysterical,” Margot said, giving her arm a comforting pat. “Breathe, Loretta,” she murmured softly. “I’m sure there is a logical explanation for this.” But Margot didn’t sound like her usual confident self.
