“Gathering flowers for the banquet table,” Penny added hastily. “Oh, Dad, they’re simply beautiful—so much nicer than any florist could have supplied.”
“I can imagine.” Mr. Parker smiled and looked at the wall clock. “We’re due at the theater in ten minutes. I’m chairman of the program, unfortunately.”
Penny gently broke the news. “Dad, I haven’t had time to decorate the banquet table at the hotel. Will you drive me there?”
“I can’t,” Mr. Parker said, slightly exasperated. “I’m late now. Have one of the photographers take you. By the way, where’s Salt Sommers?”
Hearing his name spoken, a young photographer whose clothes looked as if he had slept in them, moved out from behind a newspaper he had been reading.
“Coming right up, Chief,” he answered.
“Run my daughter over to the Hillcrest Hotel,” the publisher instructed. “Make it your job to see that she reaches the theater promptly.”
“I guess I can handle her,” Salt said, winking at Penny.
“And now, where is Jerry?” the publisher asked. “Has anyone seen him?”
“Relax, Dad,” said Penny. “He’s right here.”