"No trouble, Vance," the man said, rising and stepping around the desk. "No more than we've got already."
He removed a suit coat from a hanger and left the office with it under his arm. A moment later the door opened again and the senator saw the shaggy head of his older son peer into the room. The boy was the one who finally broke the silence which followed.
"Hi, Dad," he said, sauntering casually into the office. "Guess you're pretty sore at me. Can't blame you."
Duran remained seated, indicating a chair against one wall. He waited till his son had sat down.
"I'm a little dumbfounded, Rog, that's all. I suppose you had a good reason for it."
"Sure. Old skinflint Skinner wouldn't let us—"
"Roger!" the senator growled threateningly. He was not going to allow the interview to start off with a half-truth.
"Yeah, but that's state land," the boy persisted. "He hadn't any right—"
"Roger, I said a good reason."
"Okay, Dad," he sighed. "No, we didn't have that kind of a reason."