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dining companion started in his chair.
“Oh. Oh, yes. Well now, let me see.” He glanced up and gave Judy
another gorgeous smile.
    Mari wished she could kick him under the
table, but he’d probably misunderstand and think she was jealous.
As if she’d ever be jealous of so odious a specimen of mankind as
he. His smile, the one he reserved for people he liked, transformed
his face and made him look charming and approachable and almost
deliciously masculine. It wasn’t fair.
    After a moment of his stupidly smiling at
Judy, Tony said, “I believe I’ll try the steak.” He shot a mean
glance at Mari. “I’m sure both main courses are delicious.”
    Mari said, “We’ll see,” under her breath.
    Judy cast her a triumphant glance.
    Martin hurried to say, “I guess I’ll take the
pot roast.” It sounded to Mari as if he were trying to counter
everyone else’s bad mood and worse manners by being especially
festive. Another tiny stab of guilt smote her.
    But that was neither here nor there. She had
to keep her wits about her because this evening might make or break
the Marigold Mine. At least temporarily. The depressing truth was
that no matter how much money Mari poured down the ravening maw of
her father’s mine, it was played out. In her heart of hearts, Mari
knew it, although she’d never admit it aloud, even to herself.
    The condition of the mine was too depressing
to dwell on right now. She smiled sweetly at Martin. “I’m sure
you’ll enjoy the pot roast.” Transferring her attention, but not
her smile, to Tony, she said, “I hear the steaks are always as
tough as an old boot.”
    “So,” said Judy, interrupting mercilessly and
looking as if she could cheerfully kill Mari, “that’s two pot
roasts and one steak. Thank you.” She marched off, and Mari knew
she needed to do some fence-mending in that quarter. She hadn’t
meant to be rude to Judy, darn it. It was all Tony Ewing’s
fault.
    Before Tony could use the breath he took to
shower her with intemperate words—not that she didn’t deserve them,
she supposed—Martin rushed into the breach. What a brave man he
was.
    “So, please tell us, Miss Pottersby, have you
lived at the Marigold Mine all your life?”
    Mari gave him points for attempting to
salvage the evening. “Yes. All my life.”
    Tony said, “Hmph.”
    Martin said, “You’ll have to tell us about
how mining operations go forward. We’ll need to study up on the
subject for the picture.”
    “I’m sure that’s so.” Mari made sure she
pitched her voice to sound honey-sweet for Martin, whom she liked
even if he was probably going to try to gyp her.
    “I’ve cabled to the studio in Los Angeles to
send a cameraman out here, Miss Pottersby,” Martin went on. “As
soon as he arrives, we’ll have him take some moving pictures of
you. I’m hoping you’ll look as good on film as you do in
person.”
    Mari told herself not to get swell-headed; he
probably only said such things to gull his audience. Once he got
them feeling good, he’d strike like a rattler. Since she hated to
think such things about Martin Tafft, she shifted the blame for
such sleazy business tactics onto Tony Ewing’s broad shoulders,
where it fitted more naturally
    “I’m sure I’ll be very nervous,” she told
Martin. Shoot, she was already very nervous. To counteract her
jitters, she sat taller and lifted her chin. Out of the corner of
her eye, she caught Tony observing her. She wished he’d take
himself off somewhere so she could calm down.
    “You needn’t be,” Martin assured her. “People
don’t generally realize it, but a person either looks good on
screen or he doesn’t. It’s the camera that decides. That’s not
universally true, of course, but it’s the case more often than not.
If your loveliness doesn’t come through on film, it’s the
industry’s loss.”
    And hers, Mari thought glumly. Five thousand
dollars would be a gigantic loss to her.
    To keep from being disappointed, she