"Because," he replied blandly, "those gold buttons are the reason for that sales increase in women's dresses and ready to wear that you've been watching happen all week. I thought you'd like to know."

"You bought them and had them sewn on locally, is that it?"

"That's it," he said, stretching out his legs and looking pleased. "If a dress or a suit has gold metal buttons on it, they walk out of here. It's a craze."

Meredith gazed at him levelly, avoiding looking at Theresa Bishop, the vice president of creative merchandising, whose job it was to predict fashion trends far in advance. "I can't completely share your satisfaction," she told him quietly. "Theresa advised us long ago, after she returned from a trip to New York, that one of the continuing fashion trends was going to be clothing decorated with gold metal buttons. You ignored her. The fact that you belatedly bought the buttons and had them sewn on now can't possibly compensate for the sales we lost before and while you were doing it. What else do you have to report?"

"Very little," he snapped.

Ignoring his attitude, Meredith reached out and pressed a button on the computer screen that showed sales in the past four hours in all the departments under his supervision there and in the branch stores across the country. "Your accessory sales are fifty-four percent higher than over this same day last year. You're doing something right there."

"Thank you, Madam President," he said snidely.

"I seem to recall that you hired a new manager for accessories, and he brought in a new buyer. Is that right?"

"Perfectly correct, as always!"

"What's happening with Donna Karan's DKNY line you bought so much of?" she continued, impervious to his tone.

"It's doing fantastic, exactly as I thought it would."

"Good. What do you intend to do with all those moderate skirts and blouses you bought?"

"I'm going to keystone them and get them out of here."

"All right," she said reluctantly, "but mark them all Special Purchase and keep our labels out of them. I mean that. I was on the third floor today and I saw some blouses with Bancroft labels in them and a price tag of eighty-five dollars. They weren't worth forty-five dollars."

"They are when they have a Bancroft label in them!" he shot back. "That label is worth something to customers. I shouldn't have to remind you of that."

"It won't be if we start sticking it on junk. Get those blouses off that floor and onto clearance racks tomorrow. I mean that, and cut the labels out of them. You know which ones I mean. What about the bucket goods you were so high on?"

"I bought them. I've seen the merchandise—mostly costume jewelry, some of it very nice."

Ignoring his sulky, clipped reply, Meredith said levelly, "Just keep the bucket goods on the right counters. I don't want to see that stuff mixed in with expensive costume jewelry."

"I said," he bit out, "it's nice stuff."

Meredith leaned back in her chair, studying him in lengthening silence, while the other vice presidents looked on. "Gordon, why are you and I suddenly at odds over the kind of merchandise that Bancroft's will and will not sell? You used to be adamant about maintaining only high-quality merchandise. All of a sudden you're making buying decisions that are better suited to a low-end department store chain than to us."

When he didn't deign to reply, Meredith abruptly leaned forward in her chair, dropped the subject, dismissed him as if he weren't still there, and turned her attention to Paul Norman, the general merchandising manager in charge of home products, and the only one she hadn't yet addressed. "As usual, your departments are all looking good, Paul," she said, smiling at him. "Appliances and furniture sales are up twenty-six percent over this week last year."

"Twenty-seven," he corrected her with a grin. "The computers adjusted from twenty-six to twenty-seven just before I walked in."

"Nice work," she said sincerely, then she chuckled, recalling the sales flyers they'd been able to put in the newspapers, offering stereo components for extraordinarily low prices. "Electronic items are running out of our stores like they had legs. Are you trying to put Highland Superstores out of business?"

"I would love to."

"So would I," she admitted, then she sobered and looked at the entire group assembled around the desk. "We're looking good nationwide—everywhere but the New Orleans store. We lost sales the day of the bomb scare, and they stayed down for the next four days for the same reason." She glanced at the vice president of advertising. "Is there any possibility that we'll get some additional advertising time on any of the New Orleans radio stations, Pete?"

"Not in a time slot worth having. We've gone ahead with the increased print advertising. That will help recover some of our losses from the bomb scare."

Satisfied they'd covered everything, Meredith glanced around at the group and smiled warmly. "That about does it. We're acquiring the property for the Houston store, and we're hoping to break ground on the project in June. Have a nice weekend, everyone."

As the group started to stand, Matt went over to a sofa in the reception area and picked up a magazine as if he'd been reading it, but he was so damned proud of the way she'd handled herself that he couldn't stop grinning. The only thing that hadn't pleased and impressed him was her interaction with the one executive who'd hassled her; it seemed to Matt that stronger measures had been called for, then and there, to cut him down to size. The executives filed out of her office and passed him by without a glance, their conversations a jumbled garble of retailing terms and wishes for a good weekend. Putting the magazine down, Matt started back to Meredith's doorwav, then drew up short because two men had remained in her office. And Meredith wasn't smiling at whatever they were telling her.

With equal parts of guilt and curiosity, Matt resumed his former position at the secretarial desk, only now he stood in open view with his coat folded over his arm.

Unaware of how late it was, Meredith studied the memo Sam Green had just handed her, which showed a continuing and dramatic increase in the number of shares of Bancroft's stock being bought up on the stock exchange. "What do you make of it?" she asked the attorney, frowning.

"I hate to tell you this," he said, "but I did some checking today, and there are whispers on Wall Street that someone wants to take us over."

Meredith made a physical effort to look calm and collected, but inwardly she was reeling from the thought of a takeover attempt. "Not now. It wouldn't make any sense. Why would another department store chain, or any other entity, decide to take us over at a time like this, when we're in debt up to our ears for all our expansion costs?"