of womanhood, or someone slamming an actress or model who’s gained a few pounds. Or for being too thin, for that matter.”
Adam leaned forward. “Moonlight Ventures is concerned about those issues and we’ve discussed some of them in our quarterly newsletter, Beneath the Surface.”
“Should I read back editions to catch up on the information in them?”
“You’re welcome to copies, but we haven’t been in charge of it for very long and it isn’t a modeling handbook. We’re looking at converting it to a general circulation publication. Naturally the material will involve fashion and the entertainment world, but we want to do thoughtful work on image and how people look at themselves. Also to give opportunities to young writers.”
Cassie decided she’d reserve judgment until she read their material. How often had she heard people say the right things when their actions showed they believed the opposite?
Good grief, she was getting cynical. It was important to keep an eye on that so Tiffany and Glen didn’t get the wrong attitude; raising them was requiring her to do an awful lot of self-examination.
“It sounds as if it could be interesting,” she said diplomatically.
“We hope so. Anyhow, about Tiffany, I won’t talk to her about weight and I don’t approve of extremes. If anyone else says something to her, I want you to let me know. She’s fine the way she is at the present time. I agree with one of my partners who tells aspiring models that they should strive first to be healthy and happy. She also says they shouldn’t try to be anything except themselves.”
“Good advice.”
“For everyone, I suppose, not just models.”
He had her there. For three years, Cassie had tried to change herself to conform to her boyfriend’s world. Michael’s requirements had included being attractive without outshining any other woman in the company, being confident and self-effacing at the same time, being well dressed and stylish but not too stylish and agreeing with anything management said or wanted.
She’d done it until she couldn’t take it any longer, realizing that if Michael had really loved her, he’d have loved the woman she was, not the woman he wanted her to become.
“Is there anything else that we need to talk about today?” she asked.
“No, unless you have more questions.”
“Not right now.”
“If you come up with any, feel free to call. We can talk on the phone or as I mentioned we can meet again. I want the process to be as transparent as possible.”
“Thanks. I talked to my godfather and told him I’d bring the representation agreements over today, but I don’t know how long he’ll need to review them.”
“Take the time you need. I don’t want to rush you beyond your comfort level.”
“I appreciate that.” She walked out of the office, smiling politely at the office manager in the reception area.
It was a relief to know the agency’s policies seemed to be so positive. Time would tell if Adam Wilding had been telling her the truth or just saying politically correct words. He was extraordinarily handsome and had spent most of his adult life fitting into a limited standard of what the world saw as attractive and successful. So she couldn’t help feeling skeptical about both the agency and the man in question.
GLEN READ A copy of the long agency agreement. At first, he hadn’t thought he needed to look at it since Aunt Cassie and Orville were studying the papers and making sure everything was on the level. Then he’d decided if he was going to be a doctor someday, he couldn’t leave that kind of stuff to other people.
“What do you think?” he asked his sister, who had avidly studied every word.
She made a face. “Some of it seems weird, but I guess it’s okay, only it has all those legal words. The pamphlet thingy is easier because it talked about how stuff actually happens when you’re modeling.”
“Yeah. I’m just not sure this is fair to Aunt Cassie. She has to go with us to everything.”
Tiff nodded. “I didn’t think she’d have to do that. She ought to get paid, too.”
“That isn’t how it works.”
“Let’s go talk to her.”
He followed his sister downstairs to the small room Aunt Cassie used as her office. Glancing up from her computer screen, she turned off her music and grinned at them.
“Hey, guys. What do you need?”
“We were just... I mean...” Tiffany stopped and wrinkled her nose. “We were just thinking how hard it would be for you to go with us all the time to everything.”
“That’s the rule, Tiff. I’m okay with it.”
“It doesn’t seem fair,” Glen said. “You aren’t going to get paid.”
“Hey, kiddo, I don’t want to be paid. There might be some modeling jobs you can’t take when I have a conflict or if both of you are offered jobs at the same time, but we can work it out. I can even bring my laptop along and stay busy that way.”
“But what if someone’s website crashes and you aren’t available to fix it?”
“No problem. I never promised instant response time anyhow, but in April I hired a friend from college to do backup web maintenance. She works from her house, just like me, so Giselle handles issues that come up when I’m out.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, remembering how many times his mother had said she couldn’t handle what was happening. It had always felt as if she was blaming him and Tiffany for her drinking.
“Absolutely. If there are any problems, the three of us will sit down and decide how to deal with them.”
He was still bugged, but he didn’t know what to do about it.
Back upstairs again, Tiffany sighed blissfully. “Do you think I might become as famous as Nicole George?”
“Who knows?”
“I want to act, too.”
“You wouldn’t be bad at that.”
She wouldn’t, either; Tiff had been acting her entire life. If she banged her knee or felt sad or angry, she’d just pretend everything was okay—anything to keep from upsetting Mom. Tiff was really naive, in a way. She always thought she could fix things for people, including fixing their mother. But Mom didn’t want to be fixed; she wanted to keep drinking and that was that.
Suddenly angry, Glen flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling where Aunt Cassie had let him put stars that glowed in the dark.
Living with Aunt Cassie was great, much better than with his mom in San Diego, though sometimes he felt bad thinking that. She was his mom. Shouldn’t he want to live with her, no matter what? But he couldn’t forget the smell of booze that had always been in the apartment, and the sour stink in the morning when she got sick from being hungover.
It had gotten even worse when her boyfriends started coming home with her, and then he’d seen one of them looking at Tiffany in a way that hadn’t seemed right. His sister was way better off in Seattle, but Tiff might get upset if she knew he’d called the child welfare office and made an anonymous report about Mom’s drinking and the other things.
Sometimes he felt like slime for doing it, and other times he knew it was okay. But now that Aunt Cassie’s life was going to get messed up even more...well, he wasn’t exactly sure what he should feel.
* * *
A