Chapter 3: A Finer Romance

It was as she had foretold. Thomas Crown sat in on the meeting, and at the end, he congratulated Gene on his promotion. There was never a reference to the incident at the party. Mister Crown ended by saying that his door would always be open, if Gene had something on his mind.

Directly afterward, Gene saw his desk contents and personal items being carried up to the second floor and put into a small office near Folger Parris' office.

An office of his own!

Folger had explained that he would still be expected to do some first reading, but that he would be given editing tasks as well that would take precedence. When the older man came into Gene's new office, his eyes stopped on the Heap, sitting on a small chair. "Aren't you going to send that down to the mail room?" he asked.

"Um, ... well," Gene said, "Actually I wanted to ask you something about that, Mr. Parris. I read my employment contract carefully this weekend, and wanted to ask you to clarify a few things."

Folger dragged in a guest chair from his own office. "Tolliver, am I likely to enjoy this conversation?"

"Ah. Well, maybe, maybe not," Gene answered. "I understand that I can't moonlight for a competitor, or give them any information about our operations or our book projects or schedules. Correct?"

Folger nodded.

"What about working for myself? If I were to write a novel, or get asked to edit someone else's novel, would that be a violation of my non-competition clause? Or what if I wanted to publish a book on my own?

Folger Parris nodded. "Ok, I think I know where this is headed.

"If you were to write a novel, you own the copyright from its inception. It would probably be a smart, or let me say rather, a courteous move to offer it to us for publication. But we would have no inherent right to it; it's your intellectual property.

"That's the easy part. With me so far?"

Gene nodded.

"Now, with anything that you do, writing or editing or whatever, you'd have to do it on your own time, but you know that."

Gene nodded again.

"If you were to edit or publish something that was not going to be offered to Crown, as a Crown employee, that would be putting yourself in competition with us. So yes, that would be a violation of your contract."

He watched Gene, who had no reaction.

"However," Folger continued, "If we had been offered the MS, and we had rejected it, then we have no more claim on it. We are talking about that, correct?" he said, pointing at the Heap.

Gene nodded. "Cora and I were talking about me publishing it. It's all just talk right now, but I wanted to know my options."

Folger blinked at the mention of Cora, but simply said, "Tolliver, why don't you quit beating about the bush? You know damned well whom you should be talking to about this. We both heard him: his door is always open.

"Which, by the way, is only true metaphorically."

"What the legal eagles would say about your notion is one thing. What Mister Crown would say might be another. So unless you've decided to butt heads with him on a daily basis, I'd suggest you go ask him."

Ten minutes later, Gene was finding that Mister Crown's door was not actually open. However his secretary knocked and went in and told Mister Crown that a Mr. Eugene Tolliver had asked to see him. In a few minutes, she ushered Gene in.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Tolliver. Do you have some unfinished business with me? Because I have some with you."

Gene was unsure how to respond to that. "Uh, well, yes and no. Yes because I didn't have the opportunity to properly thank you for my promotion."

Crown waved his hand dismissively. "That was Collins' and Parris' idea. I just rubber- stamped it."

"All due respect, Mister Crown, but that's balo... , I mean, that's not likely. Considering that there was a pool on how long it would take you to can me today, it was sure as hell your decision to promote me, instead."

Crown smiled at the notion of the pool. "Well, sure. But they did recommend you highly. And all things considered, there never was a good reason to fire you, and there were several good reasons to promote you. For one thing, several people seem to think you are a very good Junior Editor. Those are not easy to find.

"For another, you seem to be a very valuable First Reader. You are conscientious, thorough, and fast, a rare and useful combination.

"For yet another, you have every right to fight for your favorites, even though your big boss disagrees.

"And finally, I respect people who are willing to take risks about things that they believe in. You may be surprised to know that my wife shares that view. You may not be surprised to know that my daughter does, as well. She's also one of those with a high opinion of your editing ability.

"Now, I wonder how she came to have that opinion. Any insights on that, Mister Tolliver? How did Cora Crown come by this opinion of your editing abilities? I mean the same Cora Crown whom you were escorting back from lunch today in a rather chummy public manner."

Oops! So word of that had made it this high, Gene thought. Feeling that he was on thin ice, Gene explained that Cora had driven him home after the party, and that she had read some of the Heap, and then his revision of it. And that they had bumped into each other at Noon.

"So that brings us back to that damned MS again! But that can wait.

"'Bumped into each other' my ass! Are you Cora's boyfriend?"

"Mister Crown, there has never been anything improper between your daughter and me."

"That's not what I asked you. But that explains why she came home in a foul mood. She even asked me to fire you! Oh, she wasn't serious, just peeved. But she got over it fairly quickly, judging by today. In fact, she wound up singing your praises as an editor this weekend.

"Do you have any aspirations to becoming Cora's boyfriend? I'd appreciate honesty please."

Gene started to say no, but stopped, uncertain. "I'm not sure what I think about that," he said at last, wondering why he didn't just say no. "I don't know how I feel about Cora. She seems to be a different person each time I see her."

He wondered how this conversation seemed to be veering widely off track.

"Interesting. Tell me, how much have you seen of Cora ... No, let me rephrase that. How many times have you seen my daughter since after the party? After she left your apartment, I mean."

Gene said not at all until Noon today. He told of running into Cora at lunch that day. Then he remembered the envelope in his pocket. Without thinking, he reached for it and started to pull it out. Thomas Crown noted the action and surmised that the envelope was from his daughter.

"My God, she's passing you notes now. Watch yourself, Eugene."

Crown chuckled to himself. He was anticipating telling Vera all this at home tonight.

"Gene, I've been having fun at your expense," Crown said. "Cora is an independent young woman who can take up with whomever she chooses. Normally, as her father, I'd say that I would be very annoyed if you cause trouble for her, but you seem to have already done that with no lasting harm done. In fact, my wife thinks it was a good thing for her that you resisted her advances."

Gene started to defend his conduct, but Crown waved him off.

"Don't worry, I know that you behaved completely honorably. In fact, THAT seems to have been the source of her annoyance. However, she seems to have gotten over that. The fact that she hunted you down at lunch today, and make no mistake, that was not an accidental meeting, tells me that she has you in her cross-hairs. You and I can only speculate what her motives are. Just making you aware, Gene.

"Now. Back to the publication business. Folger rang me up and said that you had a question for me — something about an ethical problem?

"Yes. I need to get clear about something, Mister Crown. You have rejected River Gravers."

"River ... what?"

"The Heap."

"Oh that! Of course."

"Well, that means that I would be free to publish it myself, as an independent publisher, without violating the letter or spirit of my employment contract. Correct?"

"Publish it yourself? Well, there's nothing stopping you. As long as you give me an honest day's work, I don't much care whatever hair-brained schemes you're up to on your own time. So, yes. I'm fine with that.

"But good luck. You'll need that. And money. It costs money to publish a book. You're getting a raise, but I doubt it'll be enough to set yourself up as a publisher. And you'll find it a daunting task getting booksellers to take a book from an unknown author out of an unknown press."

"But if you want it, you have my ok. Good luck. You'll need it.

The interview seemed to be over, so Gene turned to leave.

"Oh, Tolliver?"

"Yes sir?"

"Don't quit your day job."

Thomas Crown was chuckling to himself as Gene let himself out. He was also thinking that Eugene Tolliver was a very interesting young man.

And that Cora could do a lot worse.

But then he sighed, thinking that Gene was probably a fortune hunter like all the rest of them.

DAMN, parenting was hard!

The envelope contained a hand-written note from Cora inviting Gene to dinner at her apartment, Tuesday night.

"Please come as you are, directly after work," it said. "If you bring a change of clothes to work Tuesday, we can bundle here overnight and you can go to work from here.

"I promise not to make coffee in the morning.

"P. S. No need to RSVP. I know you'll come

"Cora."

It included her personal telephone number, a rarity. Only the very rich and powerful like Thomas Crown, or the people who needed to be in contact with the rich and powerful, like the Crown Senior Editors and Managers, could afford to have a personal telephone in their homes. But then he supposed that would include the daughters of the rich and powerful, too.

Gene went though the rest of Monday in a fog. There were scores of well-wishers coming by his new office, including all of the slushies. The other midlevel Editors welcomed him to their ranks, and the Senior Editors welcomed him as well.

He was assigned a task of editing an introduction to a popular writer's latest book. The introduction was written by another popular writer in the Crown Books family as a professional courtesy.

Gene was surprised at how pedestrian the introduction had been. His instructions were to edit and/or rewrite liberally as he deemed necessary. He thought it was awful and would reflect badly on the author. So he completely rewrote it in a conscious imitation of that author's style. He put it aside in his roll-top desk at the end of the day.

He was free to consider Cora's invitation and all of the implications while he was on the long subway ride out to Jamaica, Queens.

There was no question that she liked him. Her invitation reinforced the impressions he got from their "chance" luncheon meeting and then the cozy arm-in-arm walk back and her kind advance notice of his promotion. She had certainly known of all the speculation over his presumed demise at Crown, and she had wanted to ease his mind. A friendly act.

But why? They had gotten along well enough the night of the party and afterwards. He had been blunt enough in rejecting her advances, and she had taken no offense that he could see. She had been trying to seduce him and he had shot her down, but she seemed to have accepted it in good grace.

Or maybe not. Thomas Crown had said something about her coming home in a foul mood. But then she had praised his editing to Crown.

The bundling hadn't been what she had in mind, but she took to it well enough. The next morning he had wondered if the coffee had been an attempt to poison him, but saw that she had drunk a cup of it herself.

He was back to square one. There was no doubt that she was acting like someone who wanted to be a friend. And he had to admit that he had a growing liking for her. She was beautiful and sexy, of course; it was hard not to like that. And she was also spunky and smart. She would be the very model of a spunky heroine in a movie comedy. And anyone who could see his excellence as an Editor obviously must have good taste, he wryly thought.

But he also remembered what her father had said. She had Gene in her cross-hairs, Crown had said. And her motives were unknown.

Without wanting to flatter himself, he wondered if she had simply determined to seduce him. That he was a challenge. That was possible. If he had known that was her intention a few days ago, he would have laughed it off. As he had told her to her face, his standards made him impregnable.

But that was a few days ago. Now, he wasn't so sure of himself. She was attractive. She attracted him, greatly. Her presence aroused him greatly. That he could deal with. What he was having trouble with was his growing liking for her. As a person. As a companion. He had freely acknowledged his lusty feelings for her, which were normal and natural; he was a man and she was a sexy beautiful woman.

It had been easier to dismiss her when she was simply a cliché: the spoiled young flapper.

He thought this dinner together might answer some his own questions about his own feelings. He would wear his best suit on Tuesday and bring a change of clothes in a garment bag.

He wondered if they would, in fact, bundle again.

Gene threw himself into his work Tuesday, feeling that he had been distracted on Monday. He finished rewriting that introduction and sent it up to Folger.

Folger accepted it without comment, and some months later Gene saw that his version was what went into the book.

[He later got a note from the author whose work he had redone, thanking him for his excellent work. He explained that he'd been too busy to write it himself and had asked an assistant to draft something as a strawman for him to rewrite. By mistake it had gone over before he'd seen it. Gene's clever wordsmithing had saved him considerable embarrassment.]

Having no other editing tasks in hand, Gene went down to the first floor, where he was greeted warmly by the slushies. He grabbed some 15 or so slushpile items and brought them upstairs to perform as First Reader.

Just before noon, a runner stuck his head in the door and said he had a visitor down in the lobby. Mystified, Gene went down; wondering if it was a messenger from Cora calling off their tête-à-tête. Surely, he thought, anyone she would have sent would be able to come inside the offices and find him. He thought it sad but likely that she might be having second thoughts; he had been looking forward to that meeting tonight.

His visitor was a tall, ungainly young man of his own age. "Mr. Tolliver," he hastened to say, "I apologize for coming over myself instead of making an appointment, but I just had a couple of classes canceled from the power going out, and I'd just got your letter about discussing my book, so I took a chance and popped over on the subway."

Then he recollected himself and said," Oh, where are my manners? I'm Wolfe Webber. I wrote River Gravers."

Gene asked him to sit for a minute. He sprinted up the stairs to the second floor and told Folger Parris' secretary that he was taking his lunch. And that he might be a bit late getting back, but he would make the time up by working later. Then he grabbed a document from a desk cubbyhole and hurried back, taking the stairs down two and three at a time.

He took his visitor to lunch, choosing a small Italian café that was a bit too far from the office to get much Crown office worker custom.

After they ordered, Wolfe started to tell him how excited he had been to get the letter expressing interest in his book.

Gene stepped in and explained the path that the MS had taken after that form letter had been generated. When he got to the point where Thomas Crown personally rejected the Heap and sent it back down, Wolfe's face fell. "Well, Mr. Tolliver, it's very decent of you to buy me lunch to tell me that I'm rejected."

"Look, call me Gene, and I'll call you Wolfe, ok? Yes, you're rejected, for now, by Crown, but I have a crazy proposition that I'd like you to listen to."

He explained about how he had edited and revised part of the MS and had convinced his two immediate superiors that it was publishable. And that Thomas Crown hadn't even looked at his revised version. But that Crown's daughter had, and agreed with Gene, Parris, and Mr. Collins that the book had merit.

Mr. Webber was a little uncomfortable hearing about the heavy editing, but intrigued about the result. "Thomas Crown's daughter liked my book? Or at least the first part? Or at least what you edited it to be. Wait a minute. How did she come to read it? Is she your girlfriend or something?"

Gene sighed. There was that question again. "'Or something' about describes it. We have this kind of weird relationship going. I can't quite figure it out.

"Anyway, there's no hope at Crown Books for it, despite those of us who championed it."

"Well, that means there's no hope at all," Wolfe said. "I sent it to every other publisher in New York before Crown, and they all rejected it without comment. I never even thought of Crown until I got desperate, because it really didn't seem like a Crown kind of book. Mister Crown's preferences are pretty well known."

"Wolfe, here's my idea," Gene said. "I'm trying to see whether and how I could publish it myself. I have no money to speak of, and I doubt you do on an instructor's salary, but I'm willing to try it. Cora Crown thinks it's a shot, too, although a long shot. I don't want to you get your hopes too high, but I have a great faith in your book, or rather what I think your book can become.

"That brings me to the tough part; something that might completely turn you off. As written, River Gravers is not, in my opinion, publishable. I think I could edit it to make it publishable." He took out the revised version of the first sixty pages of the Heap; his editing job.

"Take this home with you and read it along with your original. Now, if you can't accept this level of editing; if you think this violates the integrity of your work, well, that would end the whole idea. But if you think that my revision is acceptable, come back and see me, and let's talk."

Webber took the revised section and said he'd go through it with an open mind.

"Look Gene, I know that I have a problem with overwriting. I'm a descriptive writer, and I have these great visual images in my mind that I just feel compelled to get down on my pages. And every time I rewrite, I always add more.

"My friends joke that I take all of the adjectives and adverbs that Ernest Hemingway throws out of his stories, and add them to mine. Well, I think I'm about to find out how I deal with tough editing. I'll read it through and let you know how I feel about it. I can call you from the University's English Department; this is their number. What's the number where I can get through to you?"

Gene shook his head. "No, Wolfe, I have to be super-careful about keeping this project separate from my work for Crown. I can't take calls about this at the office. I have to be circumspect and above-board. This project of ours, if it ever happens, has to have no affect on my work at Crown. Either write me or come down and we can talk more over lunch again."

Wolfe Webber walked away from the restaurant with Gene's forty-three revised pages burning a hole in his briefcase. He decided to wait until he got home to read it, with his copy of the first part of the book at hand. He wondered how he would react to it.

Once back at the office, Gene debated whether to call Cora to say he'd be working about an hour later than usual. But ... it would be a call about something brought about by the meeting with Wolfe about publishing the Heap. By his strict standards, that was forbidden. He knew she'd be expecting him at her apartment around 5:15 or 5:20 PM.

In the end, he decided that he shouldn't use the office phone. And he couldn't think of any other way to get a message to her. "So I'll show up a little bit late," he said.

That decision didn't work out too well. It was 5:49 PM and Gene was just the end of his last MS reading for the day when 5 feet 4 inches of very angry young woman marched into his office demanding to know why he was standing her up.

Cora was relieved to find that he was still working and had not simply gone home. But she redirected her anger and demanded to know why he didn't call her to tell her he'd be late. When he tried to explain that he was being circumspect and above board about using Crown telephones because of his personal affairs, she looked as if she wanted to smack him.

Instead she began to get weepy. "I thought you weren't coming," she said.

Instinctively, Gene put his arms around her, and she buried her face in his chest. Holding her had the desired affect of slowing her tears. Unfortunately, holding her close had the undesired affect of raising an immediate strong erection. He could not see the small smile on her face as she felt the tangible, one might even say palpable evidence of his desire for her pressing into her groin.

That physical reaction allayed her fears that he was not interested and had not been going to come to her apartment.

She sniffled a bit then blew her nose. Gene thought he had never seen anyone look so well with a reddened nose and smeared eye makeup.

"Ok, Gene," she said at last. "Let me make this clear for you. When it comes to anything about you and me, remember I'm your boss' daughter, so consider it company business. Get it? Use the damned company phone."

Gene nodded that he got it. They broke apart, with reluctance on both sides, and she watched him write his brief note on why the slushpile MS did not suit.

And then he closed up his roll-top desk and grabbed his garment bag, which brought forth another sly little Cora smile.

Her car was downstairs, since she had driven over in her haste. Once they were up in her apartment, dinner turned out to have been delivery from a nearby Chinese Restaurant. It would have to be reheated. Gene lit the oven with a kitchen match and he put the food into oven-proof vessels and popped them in for a brief time.

Cora said that her one attempt at coffee-making had already shown Gene she was not a kitchen/cooking person, so there was little point in playing at being the domestic.

Gene said he had a bachelor's knowledge of how to reheat food.

When they were eating they spoke of the news of the day, such as the stock market. Cora and her family were investors, but in very much the cautious style of Gene and his father, and in the same kinds of solid Blue chip industries. They had met their margins and were in for the long haul.

She said there was speculation enough in the make-or-break publishing business for the Crown family.

They found some common interests in books and theater, and literature in general. They explored their differences, too. Cora enjoyed opera and ballet, and Gene confessed that he had little experience with those art forms. He had never been to a performance of either.

He loved sports, particularly boxing and baseball, about which Cora knew little. She had never been to a game or a boxing match.

He admitted to both boxing and playing baseball while at CCNY.

Finally, as they enjoyed coffee made by Cora's maid before she went home, Cora said that she had invited Gene over for two reasons, one personal and the other professional.

"The first is that I wanted to get to know you better, to be a friend," she began. "And I'd say we've had a good start at doing that this evening.

"We got off on the wrong foot a week ago Monday night, but as the evening wore on, I think we got along better. I know I came on to you too boldly, but that's kind of a bad habit of mine." One, she added that she was working to break.

"I realized that I liked you and liked being with you," she said. I'm known as a direct, forward person, and so I'm telling you that straight out."

"Well, I've been thinking about that evening, too, Cora," Gene said. "I think I came across too judgmentally. I enjoyed being with you, once we got a few things sorted out."

"You mean once you convinced me that I wasn't going to get to seduce you," Cora said. "Let's be honest about it. I came across as a very loose hoydenish woman. I can't deny that and I can't deny my past and my reputation. It is what it is. My question is, despite all that, do you still want to spend time with me?"

"I have no doubt at all. I do. I definitely do," Gene said. "The fact is, I've been thinking about you. Things keep bringing you into my mind.

"You want to know something funny?"

Cora nodded.

"Your father asked me if I was your boyfriend?"

"What? When was this?"

"I went to see him yesterday after the promotion. He said that I could come see him any time I had a problem.

"And you believed him? Oh, sorry, never mind me, please go on."

"Well, I wanted to talk to him and kind of get his ok about what you and I talked about: publishing the Heap. I wanted to make sure that it wouldn't violate my employment agreement. Turned out it wouldn't; he had no objection. Only before that, the conversation sort of went in strange ways. He asked me about being your boyfriend and I said no.

"Then he asked me if I had any aspirations to become your boyfriend. And he asked me to be honest.

"And what did you say?"

"I have this really naïve habit of being truthful. I had to think for a bit. So, I said that I wasn't sure. I said that I didn't know how I felt about you and that you seemed to be a different person every time I saw you," Gene said.

"Well, that seems to be a sort of progress, doesn't it?" Cora said. "A week ago you knew very well how you felt about me, and it wasn't very complimentary. Now, you seem to be uncertain of your feelings toward me. A girl might get her hopes up, mightn't she? And since we seem to be making progress in feelings, I'm not forgetting how important feelings are to your views on enjoying certain things."

Gene realized what she was referring to and thought it would be a good time to keep his mouth shut.

"Ok," she said, "So much for the personal stuff. The professional reason for having you over tonight is what you said about publishing the Heap. Have you thought any more about that?"

Gene said, "You have no idea, Cora. Things have been happening so fast. I went to see your father because I wanted to make it clear that I wanted to publish it and so that he wouldn't think I was doing anything sneaky or underhanded. It's not against my employment contract, now that he's rejected the MS."

"And as I said, he said that I could go ahead; he had no problem with it as long as I kept up my work. He warned me that it was going to be expensive and difficult.

"Then, just today, who came by to see me but Wolfe Webber, the author of River Gravers. He got the pro forma letter expressing interest. Of course he couldn't know that your father had later nixed it. So I had to get him caught up, which naturally disappointed him. But then I told him of our idea of publishing it — what we talked about Friday night."

Cora noted that "our" and "we" with interest. She thought it meant he was taking her involvement seriously. As her mother had suggested.

Gene went on. "I explained to him that we were just thinking about it, but that I was serious. But I also told him that I thought it had to be heavily edited to be commercially publishable. That hit him hard. He admitted that he might tend to overwrite, but that it was his style. I saw he was uncomfortable so I gave him my redaction to read. I told him that if he didn't like it, then the whole idea of going forward with the project is moot."

"So he's still mulling it over?" she asked.

"Yes. Sure, I think that my revision is an improvement. But he's an author, and I was messing with his baby. I hope he'll be willing to go ahead.

"Ok," she said. "Let's be positive and say he'll come around. What do we have to do as brand new publishers? No, wait! I know one thing. We have to have a name. How about Tolliver Publishers?"

"Not bad, but you're forgetting something. There have been a lot of we's and our's being tossed around tonight. You're right in the middle of this publishing venture, so your name should be on the front door, too. You have invited yourself in, haven't you?"

""Well, I suppose. But Crown is already taken as a brand name. I don't think Tolliver- Cora Publishers would work. Neither would Gene-Cora."

"I rather like Tolliver-Crown Publishers," Gene said. "Your father doesn't own the name. Putting it second would avoid allegations of deliberate confusion. What do you think?"

"I love it. And the best part is, Father probably will have a cow!"

"Ok, now that the most important thing is out of the way, let's work on the little trivial details. Let's assume that Wolfe Webber wants to go along. We need a contract with him and we need to pay him something for the rights. Not much money up front, but we'll make up for it with a decent royalty. He'd be taking a chance on us, just as we're taking a chance on him, but he'd share in the rewards if it succeeds.