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had been then. Now, however, silver threads gleamed among the copper, and his face had a
maturity more evident in his expression than complexion, lines, or lack thereof. She had never
seen him in person before, but her first thought was that the pictures didn't really do him
justice. He was a lot more attractive than depicted, and it wasn't just because of his billions.
He was dressed a bit more formally than Bernard, in nice trousers and a jacket that was Harris
tweed, unless she missed her guess. The effect was spoiled slightly by the waffle stompers on
his feet, but she'd heard somewhere he lived in Scotland most of the year now, so maybe he
was what they called a hill walker. He rose when she and Iris Morgan entered the room.
Seeing the men's attire, Leda was glad she wasn't quite as overdressed as Iris.
'Dr. Hubbard, we're so delighted you could make it," McCallum said, sounding rather formal
but still quite a lot warmer than Bernard, who waved and pointed to his cell phone, which was
jabbering away at his right ear.
'It's nice to meet you, Mr. McCallum. I didn't realize you would be here."
'Oh yes, Edge TV is one of my projects. A market for my screenplays if nothing else. I've
been branching out into more creative pursuits since well, we'll discuss that later. Drink?
We have wine, bourbon, Scotch, of course, or sherry if you prefer?"
'I like a nice ale?" she said hopefully. This time it was Leda of course, not Cleopatra.
'I believe we can have some sent up. Excuse me just a moment." He picked up the house
phone, and said, "Is Heifeweizen to your taste?"
'I love it!" she said.
He put in the order and almost before he hung up the phone room service knocked on the door
and brought in a silver tray with a chilled crystal mug and three bottles of her favorite
Portland brew. She was glad they brought the bottles. It was part of the fun of specialty ales,
in her opinion.
'We'll be having dinner soon. Was your trip from Egypt pleasant?"
They exchanged a few more remarks of equally deep relevance before Bernard disengaged
himself from his phone.
'So, Leda," he said. "I hope you don't mind if I call you Leda? Call me Ro. Everybody does."
She was glad he said that. She would have a hard time calling him Mr. Bernard, since he
appeared to be about twelve years old. "Iris told you about the project. We know you've just
returned from Egypt but are assuming you won't have any problems going back with our tech
crews and experts to plot out the development of the program?"
Cleopatra said, wreathing Leda's face in her most roguish smile, "If I find your offer
sufficiently attractive, certainly."
The three of them, with Iris Morgan chiming in now and then, discussed details for a short
time before dinner was served. It consisted of a salad and an excellent seafood pasta that Leda
managed, with some difficulty, to keep out of her beadwork.
They discussed the project further over cappuccino.
'Your voice is lovely," McCallum said. "How do you think you might bear up to narrating the
program as well as appearing in it as yourself?"
'Normally you would pay two people for these jobs, yes ?" Cleopatra, who was learning fast
how to be working-class, inquired sweetly.
'Of course," McCallum said.
'If Andy doesn't have a problem with that, neither do I," Ro said, slinging himself to his feet.
"Okay, kids, that's it for Iris and me tonight. We need to check out a couple of other
locations," he said, winking at Iris.
'Oh, oh yes," she said.
'I promised to take her dancing," he whispered. Leda thought they'd make a funny couple, him
in his Bermudas and Iris in her slinky dress, not to mention the discrepancy in their ages. Iris
looked to be about Leda's own age. Not that boy toys were unusual anymore, but it was a little
unusual when the man had the money and power. Ro took care of one discrepancy by
disappearing into one of the bedrooms and reemerging in a tux.
'Rude of him to wait until now to don his finest garments," Cleopatra said.
'/ imagine he thinks of it more as a costume," Leda replied, with an image of herself
shrugging.
When they had gone, Leda smiled at Sir Andrew, who was looking after the couple with a
bemused expression. "I didn't realize they were an item," Leda said. "Iris introduced herself
on the phone as his agent."
He smiled. "She is. She's also his grandmother."
Not knowing what else to say to that, Leda changed the subject. "I know of course that you're
famous as a businessman. You wouldn't be the same Sir Andrew McCallum whose name
appears on the copyright page of the Scottish murder mysteries by Andrew Walters, would
you?"
He beamed. "I am. How did you figure that out? I didn't think anyone knew who either of
my personas were."
'I always look on the copyright page when I'm reading a new author who writes like an
experienced author, to see if I recognize their other name. I read everything, so a lot of times
if, say, a romance writer turns to mysteries, I know them. If I'd known you were going to be
here and had my books unpacked, I'd have brought some for you to sign. I loved Death of a
Border Riever and went out and bought all the others."
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