Trust Me

forward to seeing them. Are you certain that you don’t want to store them here at Right Touch?”
    Vernon flushed. “I’d rather keep them in my friend’s warehouse freezer until they’re perfect.”
    “I understand. Didn’t mean to push you. Artists are like actors in some ways. They don’t like people to see their work in progress.”
    “I guess that’s true.” Vernon smiled. “You know something, Miss Wainwright? I never really thought of myself as an artist until I came to work for you. It makes me feel kind of special or something.”
    “You are special. I’d be lost without you.” Desdemona glanced at her watch. “I’d better see if Juliet and Aunt Bess have finished those cheese straws yet. We’ve got to start loading the van.”
    “I’ll handle the glassware,” Vernon said as he followed her out of the freezer. He turned to slam the locker door shut.
    “Thanks, Vernon.” Desdemona crossed the white tiled floor, moving between two long, stainless steel counters. The lower portions of the counters consisted of twin rows of metal storage cabinets.
    As always, Desdemona surveyed her small domain with a proud and possessive eye. Everything was sparkling clean and as neat as the galley of a ship. Right Touch was her stage, and she was the leading player. It was a good feeling.
    Bess, her silver hair hidden beneath a white net, glanced up from her work on the cheese straws. “Almost finished, dear. Juliet just took the last tray out of the oven.”
    “Great. We’re on schedule.” Desdemona looked across the busy room to where Henry and Vernon were setting boxes of glassware on a hand truck. “Don’t forget the small dessert dishes,” she called.
    “We won’t,” Henry called. “I’ve got the checklist.”
    “I’m going to change into my tux,” Desdemona said. “I’ll be right out.”
    She hurried into her office, shut the door, and closed the miniblinds on the windows that overlooked the work area. Then she reached for the black and white tuxedo she wore when she was on the job.
    Her mother had designed and made the tux along with the other black and white uniforms that Desdemona’s staff wore when they were at work. The elegant attire was one of the trademarks of Right Touch.
    The office door opened without warning just as Desdemona started to unfasten the first button of her shirt.
    She whirled around and smiled when she saw her stepbrother. “Tony. What are you doing here?”
    “I’ve got to talk to you, kid.” Tony glanced over his shoulder and then stepped all the way into the office. He closed the door.
    “I can’t talk now, Tony. I’ve got a luncheon scheduled for one o’clock. We’re loading the truck. When I get back we can have coffee, and you can tell me all about Hollywood.”
    “Can you put me back on the payroll?”
    Desdemona’s heart sank. “Oh, Tony. What happened down in Hollywood?”
    Tony leaned back against the door and watched her with troubled eves. “The usual. Things went wrong. The money people never got their act together. The studio lost interest. The jerks who were handling the project dropped the ball. It’s all over, Desdemona.”
    “I was afraid of that. I’m so sorry, Tony.”
    His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Yeah, well, it’s sort of the story of my life, isn’t it?”
    “You’re a fine actor. You just haven’t had the right breaks.”
    “I know, I know. The right breaks.” He ran a hand over his handsome face in a weary gesture. “Sometimes I don’t think I’m ever going to get them, kid.”
    “You will, Tony.”
    “Nice to know you believe in me.”
    “The whole family believes in you, you know that,” she said.
    “Like Uncle Augustus always says, the only things Wainwrights can depend on are each other.” Tony made a graceful, careless movement of his shoulders. “Look, I won’t need a job forever. I finished a script while I was waiting for things to gel in L.A.”
    “A script?”
    “It’s called Dissolving. I’m going to talk to Ian about staging it at the Limelight.”
    “The Limelight is in trouble, Tony,” Desdemona said dubiously.
    “Okay, so we’ll have to find an angel to back the production.” Tony began to pace the small room. “We can do it. Ian needs a great script to save his theater, and I’ve got one for him. The thing is, I need a day job until I can get Dissolving staged. How about it?”
    Desdemona smiled. “Okay. You’re back on the payroll.”
    “Thanks.” Tony