“Gray!” Dickie crowed as though they were old friends. They weren’t. He carried a highball glass and an overly wide grin. “Can I get you a mint julep? There’s nothing like a splash of Kentucky bourbon on a warm summer evening.”
Gray declined. He rarely drank at business meetings, and never when reporters were present. “How’s the newspaper business?” he asked cordially.
“Fruitful as always.” Dickie lowered his voice and turned to face him. “What’s this I hear about your brother’s vendetta against the Magruders? It sounds like it’s heating up again.”
Given that three generations of Magruders were holding court on the other side of the terrace, Gray wasn’t inclined to reply. Clyde Magruder, the heir apparent, sported a new gold walking stick but the same oily smile.
“I would never presume to speak for my brother.”
“But you must admit Luke can be a wild card,” Dickie pressed. “Wouldn’t it be better for me to get news straight from his family instead of from rumors on the street? You know how the street can get things wrong.”
“Or perhaps there’s no story at all.”
Dickie smiled and shrugged. “If I can’t get news about Luke, how about your sister? I saw her at the White House the other day, and she looked absolutely ravishing. Mouthwatering, even.”
Gray stiffened. No man wanted to hear his sister discussed in that tone, and especially not by a reporter. The further Caroline could distance herself from reporters, the better.
“I’m not about to discuss my sister,” he said, looking around the gathering in search of someone else to talk to.
“Come now!” Dickie prodded. “I hear that half of Washington is at her feet, and the other half are taking bets for when the first lady will fire her.”
A gruff voice sounded behind him. “It’s not fair to take aim at noncombatants, Dickie. You know that.”
It was old Jedidiah Magruder, the patriarch of the clan. Hisface looked like it had been carved by a battle-ax, but his suit was flawlessly tailored.
Dickie made a few more halfhearted attempts to sniff out information, but when a couple of men tried walking along the edge of a fountain like a balance beam, Dickie saw more promising material and wandered away, leaving Gray standing uncomfortably beside his family’s archrival.
“I haven’t had a chance to extend my condolences about your father,” Jedediah said. “Nicholas Delacroix was a fine man, and the industry has suffered a true loss.”
“Thank you,” Gray said.
“I’m glad you’re back in the country so I have a chance to apologize in person for all that nonsense a few years back.”
Three dead people, and Jedidiah Magruder considered it “nonsense.” Gray kept his face deliberately impassive. “Yes. Go on.”
“It was an anomaly,” the old man said. “It’s a shame that our first attempt to do business together turned sour, but accidents happen, and there may be other chances for us to cooperate.”
Clyde Magruder joined his father, and Gray noticed a new sapphire pinky ring to go with the gold walking stick. At fifty, Clyde had taken over primary leadership of Magruder Food a few years ago. While old Jedidiah Magruder had been a tough competitor, the son was both a nightmare and a cheat.
“Welcome back to civilization,” Clyde said. “Where were you? India, I think I heard?”
“Ceylon,” Gray replied, ignoring Clyde’s genteel shudder. “They have an interesting blend of mustard with a natural heat I’m interested in cultivating.”
“Find the right chemist, lad,” the elder Magruder advised. “You can dial in as much or as little heat as you want.”
Clyde smiled pleasantly. “Dad, you know the Delacroixs don’t believe in science. I’m surprised they even consent to have electricity in their factory. Then again, my chemistry degree isfrom Princeton, so I’ve never been afraid of science. Remind me where you studied, Gray?”
“I didn’t go to college, Clyde.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Clyde said in mock surprise. Somehow he managed to bring up Gray’s lack of a college degree in every meeting. “Science is the wave of the future.Youmight like the idea of cooking the same way Martha Washington did a hundred years ago, but please don’t stand in the way of progress for the rest of us, hmmm? Your dad was a frightened possum in the face of science, but I’m expecting more from you.”
Gray would put up with a lot, but not an attack on his father. He smiled as he diverted the conversation. “I understand congratulations are in order. A new child?”
Clyde stiffened at the reference to the nanny he’d impregnated then accused of theft. Jedidiah looked at his son in surprise, and Clyde gave Gray a tight smile. “You must have misheard.”
Gray nodded in concession. “No doubt. Congratulations anyway.”
He scanned the crowd, glancing over the people loitering nearby, waiting for their chance to mingle with the grand old man of the packaged food industry. He noted their faces, trying to memorize everyone eager to follow the Magruder lead. The products coming from the Magruder warehouse probably outsold everyone else here combined, but at the cost of cheap fillers, misbranded products, and chemical flavorings.
