“I talk to him every day.”
“He’s having a successful tour.”
“Yes. “
Ellerbee said, “Frankly, I never thought Philip would get married. He’s like a priest—dedicated to what he does. ”
“I know”—Lara hesitated—“but don’t you think he’s traveling too much?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Philip has a home now. There’s no reason for him to be running all over the world.” She saw the expression on Ellerbee’s face. “Oh, I don’t mean he should just stay in New York. I’m sure you could arrange concerts for him in Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles. You know…where he wouldn’t have to travel so far from home.”
Ellerbee said carefully, “Have you discussed this with Philip?”
“No. I wanted to talk to you first. It would be possible, wouldn’t it? I mean, Philip doesn’t need the money, not anymore.”
“Mrs. Adler, Philip makes thirty-five thousand dollars a performance. Last year he was on tour for forty weeks.”
“I understand, but…”
“Do you have any idea how few pianists make it to the top, or how hard they have to struggle to get there? There are thousands of pianists out there, playing their fingers to the bone, and there are only about four or five superstars. Your husband is one of them. You don’t know much about the concert world. The competition is murderous. You can go to a recital and see a soloist on the stage dressed in tails, looking prosperous and glamorous, but when he gets off that stage, he can barely afford to pay his rent or buy a decent meal. It took Philip a long time to become a world class pianist. Now you’re asking me to take that away from him.”
“No, I’m not. I’m merely suggesting…”
“What you’re suggesting would destroy his career. You don’t really want to do that, do you?”
“Of course not,” Lara said. She hesitated. “I understand that you get fifteen percent of what Philip earns.”
“That’s right.”
“I wouldn’t want you to lose anything if Philip gave fewer concerts,” Lara said carefully. “I’d be glad to make up the difference and…”
“Mrs. Adler, I think this is something you should discuss with Philip. Shall we order?”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Liz Smith’s column read: “IRO N BUTTERFLY ABOUT TO GET HER WINGS CLIPPED…What beautiful real estate tycoon is about to hit her penthouse roof when she learns that a book about her, written by a former employee, is going to be published by Candlelight Press? The word is that it’s going to be hot! Hot! Hot!”
Lara slammed the newspaper down. It had to be Gertrude Meeks, the secretary she had fired! Lara sent for Jerry Town send. “Have you seen Liz Smith’s column this morning?”
“Yes, I just read it. There isn’t much we can do about it, boss. If you…”
“There’s a lot we can do. All my employees sign an agreement that they will not write anything about me dur ing or after their employment here. Gertrude Meeks has no right to do this. I’m going to sue the publisher for all he’s worth.”
Jerry Townsend shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will create a lot of unfavorable publicity. If you let it ride, it becomes a small wind that will blow over. If you try to stop it, it will become a hurricane.”
She listened, unimpressed. “Find out who owns the com pany,” Lara ordered.
One hour later Lara was speaking on the phone to Henry Seinfeld, the owner and publisher of Candlelight Press.
“This is Lara Cameron. I understand you intend to publish a book about me.”
“You read the Liz Smith item, huh? Yes, it’s true, Miss Cameron.”
“I want to warn you that if you publish the book, I’m going to sue you for invasion of privacy.”
The voice at the other end of the phone said, “I think perhaps you should check with your attorney. You’re a public figure, Miss Cameron. You have no right of privacy. And according to Gertrude Meeks’s manuscript, you’re quite a colorful character.”
“Gertrude Meeks signed a paper forbidding her to write anything about me.”
“Well, that’s between you and Gertrude. You can sue her…”
But by then, of course, the book would be out.