The next day, Cyril was back to barking orders at Cedric and the Pigs, and he was back to practically screaming over the phone about business deals.
"Looks like Pop's on the war path," Cedric warned Sophia.
"I've noticed," Sophia replied. "Nothing stops him when it comes to business does it?"
Cedric was about to say something when Cyril came into the room, looking like he had just lost a million dollars in a stock market crash.
"Do you two have to stand there all day?!" he shouted. "I tell you, it's sickening looking at the two of you together!"
"Pop, are you feeling okay?" Cedric asked.
"I'm perfectly fine!" Cyril yelled. "Why must you pry into my personal life like this?!"
"It's just that you've kind of been on edge since yesterday. And . . . . well, you seem a bit more . . . . edgy than you usually are."
"Edgy! Who's edgy! Just because I happen to be yelling a little more than I usually do, doesn't mean I'm edgy!"
Cedric backed off. It was obvious Cyril was not in the mood to discuss anything. Things were silent for a little while until they heard Forest start to cry from upstairs in the nursery. Sophia sighed, and started up the stairs.
"I'd better go get the baby," she said.
"You do that," Cyril replied. "I've got to get back to work."
Cyril went back into his office, and just sat there for awhile. After a few minutes, the Pigs came in, carrying the mail.
"Mail's here, sir," Boyd said.
"Just put it on the desk," Cyril replied. "I'll look at it later."
"You might want to look at it now," Lloyd said. "There's something in here from Lady Baden-Baden."
"What does she want now?" Cyril groaned, taking the envelope from Lloyd. He ripped it open and pulled the contents out of it.
"Oh brother," he groaned. "She's having another one of her social get-togethers this afternoon."
"Should we send your regrets, sir?" Boyd asked.
"No, I might as well go," Cyril grumbled. "I'll probably have to drive Sofa Girl over there anyway, since she writes that stupid social column in that stupid paper."
And that was all there was to that. Cyril did go to Lady Baden-Baden's party, but he made it perfectly clear that he wasn't going to enjoy himself.
"I don't understand why you're here anyway, Mr. Sneer," Sophia said.
"I figured I'd might as well," Cyril replied. "You've got to cover this for the newspaper, and I've not nothing else planned for today."
Sophia sighed, and went to find Melissa, who was probably taking photos around somewhere. Her hunch was right.
"Hi, Melissa," she said.
"Hey Sophia," Melissa replied. "I just saw Cyril. Is he okay? He looks a little on edge."
"He's been a bit edgy since yesterday, but you know Mr. Sneer. He'd rather loose a fortune than to talk about what's on his mind."
"That's true."
The girls laughed over that, and started walking around. Cyril was doing his best to avoid practically everyone at the party. He wasn't in the mood to even be there, and he thought about leaving. In fact, he was about to make his way back to his car when Lady Baden-Baden approached him.
"Oh Mr. Sneer!" she called. "So delightful of you to come!"
"Yeah well," Cyril said. "Sorry I can't stay, but I must be running."
"Oh before you leave, I'd like to introduce you to someone."
"Some other time perhaps. I really need to . . . ."
"Oh, but this will only take a moment!"
Before Cyril could say anything more, Lady Baden-Baden practically dragged him over to another part of her yard.
"Mr. Sneer, you must meet Miss Ritzley before you leave," she said. "She's the owner of Ritzley Incorporated!"
Cyril had heard of Ritzley Incorporated. In two years, the company had made at least seven trillion dollars, and their profits were still climbing. But what he didn't know was that the company was owned by a woman! This he had to see, figuring that this woman was probably as old as he was, maybe even older, but the only person that Lady Baden-Baden was indicating was a young, dark-haired, girl aardvark, wearing a black business suit, black pumps, and talking on a cellular phone.
"I don't care what it takes!" she shouted into her phone. "You get those profits higher, you get me?!"
And with that, she pushed a button on her phone, and stuffed it into her purse.
"Good help is so hard to find these days," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Don't I know it," Cyril said.
"Mr. Sneer, may I present to you Miss Rita Ritzley," Lady Baden-Baden said. "Miss Ritzley, this is Cyril Sneer."
"Of Sneer Enterprises?" Rita asked. "I've heard about your company, Mr. Sneer, and I am impressed with the way you handle business."
"Really," Cyril said. "Well, Miss Ritzley, your company is pretty impressive, itself. Seven trillion dollars in two years. That's pretty impressive."
"Oh, I'm sure that's nothing compared to your company, Mr. Sneer."
"Well . . . . if I didn't have such lousy employees . . . . . as you said, good help is hard to find. And . . . . you can go ahead and call me Cyril."
Melissa and Sophia happened to look over and saw Cyril talking to Rita, and they looked at each other.
"Recognize the look on Cyril's face?" Melissa asked.
"Reminds me of Cedric when he and I first met," Sophia commented.
Melissa nodded, and stifled a laugh. For the rest of the afternoon, Cyril and Rita discussed their businesses.
"I'd love to stay and talk more, Cyril," Rita said. "But I must be going. I can't spend too much time away from the office."
"Been there, done that," Cyril commented. "But why not come over to my place for dinner sometime? We could pick up this discussion then."
"Sounds good to me. How about tomorrow night at seven?"
"I'll be looking forward to it, Rita."
"Believe me, so will I."
And with that, Rita left. Cyril turned around, and headed for his own car.
"Let's go, Sofa Girl!" he shouted. "I don't have all day!"
"See you later, Melissa," Sophia said. "Tell Ralph I'll run my column over tomorrow morning."
"You got it," Melissa replied.
Sophia ran to Cyril's car and climbed in.
"So who was that you were talking to, Mr. Sneer?" she asked.
"Rita Ritzley," Cyril responded. "Owner of Ritzley Incorporated. Her company made seven trillion dollars in two years."
"Sounds like your kind of woman."
"Believe me, Sofa Girl, she is!"