“But it isn’t over with, Jackson,” Candy said patiently. “Restaurant receipts are down, franchise offers are down, and contributions to Candyland have just about dried up.”

Jack chuckled. “Okay, but I’ll bet the ratings on the show are way up, so we’re making up in advertising dollars whatever we’re losing on the other end.”

And, Sam Houston, will you look at the bumpers on that one.

“Not even close,” Candy said. She’d spent three days reviewing the figures with the comptroller. “Ratings are up, but most of our advertisers are family-oriented businesses, and they’re nervous about being associated with a scandal.”

“Get new advertisers, then,” Jack snapped. “Get some with some cojones.

Whiting winced at the vulgarity. Candy didn’t blink a perfect eyelash.

“Well, hell, the woman disappeared, didn’t she?” Jack asked. “Don’t that just prove what I been saying all along, that she made this whole thing up?”

Candy answered, “As a matter of fact, the polls show that her credibility rating has gone up six points since she disappeared from public view.”

“Up?” Jack yelled.

“Up,” Candy answered. “Sixty-three percent of respondents think that it is ‘more likely than not’ that you slept with her-”

“I didn’t.”

“And twenty-four percent believe that you raped her. Consider this for a moment, dear: If these numbers reflect the opinions of the board members-”

“I’m the chairman of the damn board!”

“Perhaps not for long, dear,” Candy said calmly. “If these numbers don’t turn around, Peter Hathaway might be chairman of the board soon. He’s already bought up forty-three per-”