and an armload of reports, giving him an excuse to cut the conversation short without too much guilt. “Unless you have some company business to discuss…”
“No, no. Get back to work. I’ll be by Thursday evening to meet this Miss Sawyer.”
That was the problem with working with people who’d known you all your life, Will thought as he hung up the phone and turned to the stack of reports Nancy left on his desk. They never believe you’re actually an adult. He was perfectly capable of hiring a tutor for his sister without Marcus’s oversight.
Evie was certainly thrilled with Gwen. He’d seen her briefly this morning, and she’d chattered on in her usual nonstop fashion about all Gwen had taught her after he’d left the table. And she’d thanked him again for hiring the one and only Miss Behavior.
Evie’s excitement was the reason he was currently surfing TeenSpace instead of concentrating on the reports from Tokyo littering his desk. Well, it was part of the reason. He had to admit he was a bit interested in Gwen Sawyer as well. Too bad he had to leave the table last night for that conference call—he’d been enjoying himself.
Telling himself it was his responsibility as Evie’s guardian to check up on Gwen, he’d headed to the Web site Gwen mentioned the night before. TeenSpace was a headache- inducing riot of color and graphics about TV stars and bands he’d never heard of. In the top right-hand corner of the home page he found the link he was looking for. The “Miss Behavior” page loaded and Gwen’s picture smiled at him over the phrase “More Than Forks and Tea Cups…Etiquette for the Twenty-First Century.”
“Etiquette” seemed a pretty broad term for what Gwen was dispensing in her column. Drama and angst outnumbered true etiquette five to one. Gwen was certainly trying, though. In addition to letters from her readers, she had column after column of basic behavior skills. He had to give Gwen credit; she seemed to give sound advice that her readers accepted at face value, and she was extremely, well, polite about everything. Any reservations he might have been entertaining evaporated. Gwen was definitely the right choice for Evie. Out of curiosity, he typed “Miss Behavior” into Google. An article from the Tribune popped up first.
“She’s Not Your Mother’s Miss Manners” Miss Behavior, the new etiquette expert on the Dallas- based TeenSpace Web site, has taken more than Dallas by storm. Hits to the teen-centered site have tripled since she came on board nine months ago, and she gets more e-mail from the site than any other columnist. Part Miss Manners, part Dear Abby, her answers to teens’ modern-day etiquette dilemmas are succinct, sassy and spot-on. In real life, Miss Behavior is Gwen Sawyer, a Dallas etiquette consultant favored by debutantes…
Nancy buzzed the intercom, interrupting his reading.
“Mr. Harrison, Miss Sawyer is on line one.”
Already? Had Evie pushed her over the edge in less than twenty-four hours? “Gwen?”
“I’m sorry to bother you—so I won’t keep you but a minute—but I need to tell Mrs. Gray what time to serve dinner this evening. Is seven all right?”
“I’ll just grab something on the way home, so…”
“I’m afraid that’s not going to work.” Gwen sighed. “I’d hoped to talk to you about this last night at dinner but you were, um, called away before I could.”
Gwen sounded irritated. Evie must be giving her problems. “And?”
“If you want Evie to make progress, she’s going to need to practice. But she needs to practice with someone other than just me, and dinner is a perfect time. Every night would be best, but you’ll need to be home every other night at least.”
“I’m very busy—”
“I know, but we only have three weeks until the Med Ball. Do you or do you not want Evie to be ready?”
“Of course I want her to be ready—”
“Then we’ll see you at dinner. Seven o’clock. Goodbye, Will.”
His hackles went up. Who did she think she was? She worked for him. He buzzed Nancy with the intention of having her get Miss Behavior back on the line so he could get a few things straight about this arrangement…
An unfamiliar feeling stopped him. This was important for Evie; therefore, it was important to him. And what would it hurt after all? It would only be for a couple of weeks, and Mrs. Gray’s meals were a lot better than the take-away bistro on the corner.
“Yes, Mr. Harrison?”
“Find Mitchell and move our meeting back to five o’clock. I have to be out of here no later than six-thirty today.”
“Of course.”
“And, Nancy?”
“Yes, Mr. Harrison?”
He could not believe he was doing this. “Go through my appointment book and reschedule any meeting in the next three weeks that will run later than six.”
“Um…” He could hear the confusion in her voice, but she caught herself quickly. “Not a problem.”
Oh, it would be one hell of a problem. His schedule simply wasn’t that flexible. But he’d be able to assess Evie’s progress and report back to Marcus on a regular basis.
And seeing Gwen in action wouldn’t be bad, either.
“Sometimes, the dessert spoon will be above the plate, along with a dessert fork.”
Evie looked confused for the thousandth time, but Gwen was pleased that she didn’t show her frustration.
“So how’s that different from the soup spoon?”
“Silver is always placed in the order it will be used. Start at the outside and work your way in with each course.” At Evie’s disgruntled look, Gwen added, “And you can always pause for a moment and wait to see which utensil everyone else picks up.”
“No, I can do this.” With her back ramrod straight and a determined set to her chin, Evie went over the place setting again. Granted, Gwen’s teaching set contained enough pieces for the most formal of dinners—far more than Evie would ever be faced with unless she attended a state dinner at Buckingham Palace—but it didn’t hurt to cover every possible base. From past experience, Gwen knew that if Evie felt like she had this under control, any regular setting would seem like child’s play.
“Red wine, white wine, champagne, water. My glasses are to the right.” She touched each piece as she spoke. “Fish fork, salad fork, dinner fork, bread plate and butter knife—”
“Good God, what are we having for dinner?”
Gwen looked up to see Will standing in the doorway, tie loosened and his briefcase still in his hand.
Evie paused in her recitation. “Baked chicken and green beans.” Without waiting for a response, she continued. “Service plate, soup bowl, soup spoon, oyster fork…”
Gwen stepped from behind Evie’s chair. “It’s a teaching set. Every possible fork she might come across. I think Mrs. Gray will let us slide
