“I spent the biggest part of my life breaking irascible horses.” Behind Claire’s back, Luther gave Randy a silent thumbs-up. “Leastways when the offices were still in Texas, and I could sneak away for long weekends spent at the ranch.”
Claire nodded. “You haven’t always been in New Orleans then?”
“No, ma’am.” Luther made his way behind his desk and sank into his leather chair sized for a mammoth.
He gestured for Randy and Claire to take the visitor chairs. Claire declined. She chose, instead, to circle the office and take notes.
Luther went on. “We came over a few years back when Lionel’s wife took sick and wanted to spend the rest of her time close to family out near Lake Pontchartrain.”
“Lionel Burns is one of Luther’s partners,” Randy explained, arms crossed, a shoulder braced against the doorjamb. “His office is the next door down.”
Luther leaned back in his chair, propped one boot heel on the corner of his desk. “Randy accuses Lionel of working out of a fish camp.”
“Fish camp?” Pen scratching across paper, Claire turned toward Randy, lifting a brow and fighting a corresponding lift of her lips.
Such a tiny movement of her mouth and it tied his gut in knots. “Lionel’s aesthetic appreciation runs toward what he calls a maritime theme.”
“I see.” More notes, another squashed smile. “And the third partner?”
Luther’s chair squeaked as he leaned farther back. “That would be Lester Grant. He’s out in the Gulf on a rig most of the time.”
“When he’s here, he stores his hardhats and jumpsuits and bathymetric charts in his office,” Randy added, pausing while Claire’s pen flew.
“Go on ahead, Randy, and show Claire around the place. Give her a better idea of what we have for her to work with.” Luther waved his hand toward the door and chuckled. “She might decide to walk out and never come back.”
“I doubt that will happen but, yes. I would like a tour.” She crossed her arms over her binder and held it to her chest, waiting patiently while Randy processed the idea that she might actually leave.
He couldn’t see it happening. She was a professional…one he’d manipulated in order to get his way. The thought brought a frisson of alarm as he said, “Then let’s go.”
He walked her through the remaining rooms on the floor, explaining Lionel’s background in the merchant marines, Lester’s in oil, and how the two had originally hooked up with Luther in Korea during that military conflict.
Once their tours of duty were over, the three had hitched their way around the world, meeting a Parisian “flatbacker” who’d convinced them there was a fortune to be made were they to import French lingerie into the States.
“Let me get this straight,” Claire said, settling into a chair at the conference room table once finished with the full tour. “Your uncle and his partners got their start working with a prostitute they met in Paris?”
Randy pulled his own chair around to face hers before crossing his legs. “Hard to believe but, yeah. A cowboy, a sailor and an oil man who made the bulk of their money in panties and bras.”
She toyed with her pen and studied her notes. Several seconds passed before she closed the binder. Several more ticked by before she looked up. “When you left this morning, I called you every name in the book.”
Of that, he had no doubt. The only thing he’d wondered about was how long she’d wait before broaching the subject. “You had every reason.”
“I thought this was a ruse.” She turned the pen end over end, bouncing it on the binder. “That you brought me here because you wanted to get to know me, not because of any concern for the foundation’s image.”
“Actually, my concern was less about image and more about working conditions. You’ve seen my office.”
She mulled over his admission, coming back with, “I’m an image consultant, Randy. Not a decorator.”
“I know.” And even knowing she wouldn’t like it, he wasn’t going to deny the truth. “But you’re right. I brought you here because I wanted to get to know you.”
She shook her head, sighed, tossed the pen to the table. “I’m surprised my making the first move didn’t shoot your plans all to hell.”
He laced his hands in his lap. “I committed to the consultation. Whether you and I worked out personally wasn’t going to have any bearing on our doing business.”
“So, what am I doing here now? Now that we’ve worked out.” She lifted her chin; for a moment he thought it was trembling. “Is this payment for services rendered?”