Rich couldn't help but chuckle at Alicia's reaction. "Calm down, Spinn. Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, backwards, and in five inch high heels. I was just kidding. You're as much a business person as I am, in addition to raising two lovely, and lively, children."
He shrugged. "Most people only need a solid, inexpensive, broom for an everyday ride. And face it, not everybody is you or I, able to climb on to a high-performance broom and not put it into the trees. What we're hoping is that the high performance broom, suitable for racing right off the rack, will lend some attraction to the more average brooms. Lot more families out there than there are Quidditch players and racers."
"Been there. No luck," he said with a wry smile. "I'm ready to try advertising in the Finnigan's journal in hopes of escaping the bits of pureblood fluff my mother keeps trying to send my way. Fashions, and parties, and being seen out and about with the Right People seem to be the only thoughts they have in their pretty little - empty - heads."