LITMIR.BIZ

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and eighty degrees the opposite of his uncle’s inviting grin. He looked positively grim.

      “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to remind you that before this afternoon’s meeting with the board of directors we need to go over some reports.”

      “Meetings and reports,” Elliot muttered before hooking his thumb in Chase’s direction and adding in a not-so-confidential whisper, “All work and no play, that one. I guess some good genes skip a generation.”

      She bit back a smile. It was impossible not to find the older man charming, even if his humor came at his nephew’s expense.

      Chase remained stoic. “It’s important. When do you think you’ll be finished here?”

      “Oh, it will be a while yet.” Instead of pointing out that they had barely gotten beyond introductions, Elliot said, “The cars are only on their third lap.” Then he whistled softly. “Look at your blue car, Ella. It’s pulled ahead of the silver, but my red one is still in the lead.”

      “Come see me when you’re done in here.” Chase nodded politely in her direction.

      When he turned to leave, however, Elliot said, “I’d like you to stay, Chase. I value your opinion.”

      “You already know how I feel about the party, Uncle.”

      “Wake, you mean.”

      “You’re not dying.”

      “Oh, but I am. Professionally speaking anyway.” To Ella, he said matter-of-factly, “My board of directors thinks I’ve lost my marbles. That’s ironic, don’t you think, given that I make toys for a living?”

      “I...I...” At a loss for words, she glanced at Chase.

      His cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red. “No one is saying that,” he ground out.

      “To my face,” Elliot conceded. “But we both know what is being said behind my back.”

      “When I find out who started the rumors we’ll sue them for slander,” Chase declared.

      “I will be out of a job by then. Owen is only too happy to take my place. He’s my son,” Elliot informed Ella. “He has the head for this business, but not the heart. That apparently skipped a generation, too.”

      “Ah.” She nodded, not knowing what else to do.

      To Chase, Elliot said, “The writing is on the wall. Don’t think I don’t know it. I may be slowing down, becoming a little forgetful, but I’m not stupid.”

      The older man sounded weary, resigned.

      In contrast, Chase’s tone was infused with urgency. “That’s why we need to talk, put together a plan of action before this afternoon’s meeting.”

      “All right,” Elliot conceded with a sigh. “But after I speak with Ella. Stay, Chase. Please.”

      Chase was too tall to sit comfortably in either of the egg-shaped chairs, so he joined Ella on the swing. His feet remained firmly planted on the floor, bringing the swing to a halt. It was time to get down to business.

      Calm. Collected. Confident. She chanted the three words in her head as she exhaled slowly and pulled a small notepad from her purse. She’d jotted down several questions she figured a party planner would ask.

      In her most professional voice, she said, “Let’s start with the basics. When do you want to have your wake?”

      “Memorial Day would have been fitting, but it’s passed.” He sighed. “What about the weekend before the Fourth of July? We could have fireworks at night.”

      Ella might not have planned any parties, but three weeks to prepare seemed doable. Until she asked, “How many guests will there be?”

      “Six, maybe seven hundred.”

      Her mouth went slack. A party for sixty would have left her panicked. How on earth was she going to pull off a party for six or seven hundred? And in less than a month?

      “Uncle Elliot, be reasonable.”

      “I am being reasonable. If I’m going out, I’m going out with a bang. What do you say, Ella?”

      “Well, the, um, timeline is a little tight for a gathering of that size.”

      “You’re right.”

      She relaxed until Elliot said, “Let’s push it to August. My Isabella died in August. August twenty-seventh.” His expression dimmed. In a bewildered voice, he asked, “Can it really be three years?”

      “I’m sorry,” Ella told him.

      “I couldn’t have started my company without her. She was my rock.”

      The race cars whizzed past on the span of track that wound under Elliot’s desk. Just that quickly, his attention was diverted. He clapped his hands together, eyes once again bright, and crowed, “My red car is still in the lead! Have your ten dollars handy, Ella. There are only three laps left.” Afterward, he scratched his head. “Now, where were we?”

      “The guest list,” she prompted, still feeling dazed.

      “Right. Definitely seven hundred. In addition to friends and family, I have a lot of acquaintances in business and the community at large who will want to pay their respects.” He snorted before adding, “And my competitors will want to come and dance on my grave. The media, too.”

      “Media?” Chase asked, sounding alarmed.

      “That’s right. I plan to invite reporters from several news sources, both tabloid and mainstream. You can’t keep those vultures out anyway. I might as well open the doors and the bar to them. That way, they won’t be circling in helicopters overhead.”

      “Isn’t that the truth?” she replied, thinking of her father’s treatment by some so-called journalists. She glanced up to find Chase studying her. Clearing her throat, she asked Elliot, “Do you have a location in mind, then?”

      “My house. Estate, I guess is more accurate. It’s in the Hamptons. We could set up tents. The grounds are quite expansive.” He chuckled. “I just happened to think, the name of my estate is The Big Top. What about Three Ring Circus for the theme?”

      “I thought the theme was Irish wake,” Chase and Ella said at the same time.

      “Right, right.” Elliot nodded. “What if it’s both? What do you think, Ella?”

      She nibbled her lower lip to give herself a moment to think. A circus-themed wake for a man who wasn’t dying? For the first time since seeing Elliot’s call, she wondered if perhaps Madame Maroushka had gotten her palm confused with someone else’s.

      “Well?” Elliot prodded.

      “While there is nothing wrong with a party that has two distinct themes, marrying them can become, um, tricky. That’s especially true when they are so, um, so...different,” she finished, hoping to sound authoritative even if she was making things up as she went along.

      “But it can be done?” Elliot asked hopefully.

      Uh-oh.

      “It can be. But it would take a lot of planning. Months, say, to do it right. Are you willing to wait that long?”

      “No.” He sighed.

      Ella nearly did, too.

      “I suppose that answers that question,” Chase said. He looked as relieved as Ella felt. Then he asked, “May I make a suggestion, Uncle?”

      “By all means.”

      “If you are determined to have a party, why don’t you go with the circus theme and save the wake idea for another time?”

      Elliot scratched his head. “I don’t know. I really want to have a wake. Ella?”

      She’d

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