Realizing that she had broken a basic rule of journalism and been too pushy, too soon, Mel left, all the while mentally kicking herself for alienating what was presently her only sure source of information. She knew she was supposed to be patient and not appear as if she was pumping people for information, but it was just so frustrating. Pregnant pauses made her fidgety and usually she ended up filling them, totally defeating the purpose. Those people had the information she needed somewhere in their records. Why wouldn’t they share? Surely, Mr. Taylor would welcome the publicity, if he only knew it was available to him!
Grabbing another breadstick, Mel bit into it angrily. She imagined that right now Mr. Bastian would be asking his employees what she had wanted to know. Quite likely, he’d even instruct them not to talk to her anymore. Bastian’s, she thought glumly, was going to be a dead end.
She’d glossed over that fact when she’d called the lawyer, Leon Aldrich, half an hour ago, to report her findings. He’d been rather peeved that she hadn’t checked in last night, claiming to have been concerned about her safety. While she’d explained about being tired and the poor driving conditions, she’d inwardly acknowledged the real reason for his attitude.
Aldrich appeared to be waiting for her to abscond with the large cash advance he’d given her. He didn’t seem too keen on her, nor on his client’s interest in Ryne Taylor, for that matter. Mel knew Aldrich felt she was under-qualified for the job, but Mr. Greyson had picked her out of all the other applicants. The sour look on Aldrich’s face when he delivered this news, made it obvious that the wealthy man was ignoring his lawyer’s recommendations. It was strange how Aldrich seemed to have taken an instant dislike to her; Mel usually got along with almost everyone. Maybe it was because she was spending his client’s money on a project that he felt was foolish.
Whatever the case, Mel hated reporting to the man. He always made her feel guilty and desirous of a thorough washing that would remove any traces of their interaction, even if it had been only over the phone. This morning was no different. She’d stated the facts as succinctly as possible; she’d arrived safely at the Grey Goose, had been to Bastian’s, but unfortunately hadn’t found any new information. Her next move was going to be checking the archives of the local paper. Aldrich had reluctantly agreed with her plan and she’d hung up, feeling his disapproval oozing down the phone lines.
At least now that the unpleasant task of talking to the man was over, she was free to sit and brood about her morning in relative peace and quiet. Mel was doing so with great success, mowing down breadsticks and leaving a little array of crumbs all over the white linen tablecloth, oblivious of her surroundings. When a shadow fell across the table, she gave a start, having forgotten she was in a public restaurant. Looking up, she saw Elise standing beside her.
“Hi! You look a bit down. Having a bad morning?” Elise’s concerned inquiry immediately made Mel feel a bit better. Here, at least, was one friendly face.
“Yeah. I was at Bastian’s Gallery all morning. There’s one particular artist that I’m trying to get some background on for my article, but I struck out.”
“And they didn’t have any information for you?” Elise seemed rather surprised by the fact.
“Well, they said they didn’t, but I think they’re holding out on me.”
“That’s strange. Wouldn’t an artist welcome publicity?”
Mel snorted. “You would think so.”
Someone called Elise’s name and she glanced over her shoulder. “Oops, my order for table three is ready. Here’s the menu. The luncheon specials are listed on the front. I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.”
Mel watched Elise’s retreating form, thinking she could ask her about Ryne Taylor. Bastian’s was a dead end, but maybe the local people knew something about the man. After all, he had lived in the area before disappearing off the face of the earth. Determined not to be quite so eager for information this time, she purposely engaged Elise in casual conversation when the girl returned.
“I saw you getting out of a pickup this morning. Was that your husband?”
“Yes.” Elise rolled her eyes and appeared exasperated. “Kane’s so over-protective right now. He wouldn’t even let me drive in by myself this morning because of the snow.”
“You mean he’s not always like that?”
Elise blushed prettily. “Well, a bit, but it’s getting worse now. I just found out that I’m pregnant and I swear, he’d have me sitting with my feet up for the next eight months if I didn’t demand otherwise.”