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“So, there is a silver lining. Apparently, Brad De Luca is estranged from the family. Spends most of his time in the Bahamas.”
“Estranged,” I repeated dully as I struggled to keep my breathing and heartbeat level. Closing the side door, I jabbed my finger on the screen, clearing the warning messages and glaring at the new instruction that appeared. CHECK DRAWER 1. “I’ve checked drawer one,” I said loudly.
“Is it the copier? Try unplugging it and plugging it back in. So, yeah. Estranged is good.” She sounded cheerful, as if we were discussing a Days of Our Lives plot point and not a new listing that could get me killed. I wasn’t sure an estranged member of the Magiano family was any better than a normal member. In fact, it sounded worse. Like, way worse.
I pulled out the power plug and took a deep breath, forcing myself to count to five before I plugged it back in.
“I can talk to my dad tonight,” she offered. “I know he’s dealt with the Magianos before, when we had permitting issues at the civic center. Maybe he knows something that could help.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I watched as the machine hummed to life.
“Can you decline the listing? I know he’s estranged, but just in case…” her voice trailed off.
“I don’t know. I’m going to go and talk to the guy who referred them to me. I think he already set up the appointment.” I worked my fingers over my temple and watched as the welcome screen faded, replaced with the all caps notification that the copier was jammed.
“Okay, let me know how it goes.”
I ended the call and stared at the blinking copier screen, fighting the urge to slam the phone into the display. Opening the top feed, I pulled out my flyer and tossed it into the trash, abandoning the task.
I needed to find Tim and wring his perfect little tan neck. Then, I had to beat the lunch traffic and head to E’s office. I had keys to pick up at the Keller-Williams franchise by his building, and I could use his advice, prior to that errand, on how to handle this new bomb of information.
9
I wandered through the hallways of the wealth management firm and eased into Easton’s office, immediately recognizing the sharp accent of Nicole Fagnani. E nodded at me and picked up the receiver, cutting her off speakerphone. I glanced at my watch, irritated at myself for forgetting his call was today. A good wife would have sent him a good luck text, something that would push him to pull up his big boy pants and put down his foot with her. Nicole had jerked his chain around long enough. She needed to make a deposit, and we needed the resulting commission check. Badly.
“Uh-huh.” He spun a pen on the desk.
I settled into the chair across from him and pulled out my phone, opening an incoming text from Chelsea.
Two things—when’s your big listing appointment?
— On Friday.
Not enough time to emotionally prepare, but four days was better than nothing.
E’s cool with you doing it? Despite the Magiano connection?
I glanced at my husband. I could predictably anticipate his response. A flat denial that I take the listing, one that would waver in strength when I pointed out our dire financial situation. I really didn’t want to point that out, or see the tight shift of Easton’s features, or feel the weight of his guilt over putting me in what he would see as a dangerous position.
— I haven’t told him yet. At his office now. Maybe I’ll just wait until I meet and feel them out for myself.
You know that’s not the right move.
For a woman with such a fluid stance on personal morality, she was horrifically accurate on calling me on my shit. I changed the subject. What was the second thing?
Oh, my funeral. You need a veil or anything? I got extras.
Of course she did. I swallowed my dozens of unanswered questions about the party and shot back a quick reply. No, I’m good. Thx
I locked my phone and returned my attention to E’s conversation, picking up bits and pieces of her voice as he spun to face me. I heard the words video game and stood, approaching the glass window that separated him from the reception area.
“It’s definitely worth a meeting.” Easton watched as I adjusted the row of vertical blinds, cutting off his view.
“Next Thursday?” He unlocked his computer screen, then pulled up his calendar. I moved closer and watched his mouse scroll down through dates. He had it wide open.
He hesitated and I wondered what he was debating over. Pushing away from the desk, he leaned back in his chair, his face hardening in determination.
“Nicole, let’s be brutally honest with each other for a moment.”
My ears perked at the same time that my chest constricted in fear.
