Thursday morning. From the expression on his face, she knew immediately that something else had happened. By now too numb to feel anything except cold acceptance, she merely asked, “What is it?” “Zan, you told me that Kevin Wilson agreed to hold off on deciding between you and Bartley over those model apartments.” “Yes. But I know with those pictures in this morning’s papers of me being carried out to the ambulance yesterday, it’s all over for that job. I’ll be surprised if everything I left with him isn’t back here before noon.” “Zan,” Josh said passionately, “that’s probably true, but it’s not what I’m talking about. Zan, how could you have ordered all the fabrics and furniture and wall hangings for those apartments before you got the okay on the job?” “You’ve got to be joking,” Zan said flatly. “Zan, I wish I were. You put the order in for the fabrics and the wall hangings and the custom furniture and the fixtures. My God, you’ve ordered everything.
