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Who cared that is was only ten thirty in the morning?
* * *
“Calvin Jakes is on line one for you,” my assistant said.
“Put him through.”
“Hey, Hannah.”
Calvin’s voice was bright and warm. I easily conjured the image of my friend from Stanford who had strawberry-blond hair, a smattering of freckles, and a charming smile—all of which probably helped him disarm his interviews subjects and scoop the best stories.
“Hi! It’s so nice to hear your voice.” Too bad it’s under such insane circumstances. I kept the thought to myself and arranged my crispy spring rolls in a neat line, so I could eat them in order of appearance as soon as I got off the phone.
“I know, right? I was psyched to get your message. I was worried you were going to give the exclusive to the Financial Times.”
“I thought about it…” I absently played with the spring rolls.
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
I snapped to attention. “Not at all. I want to give the exclusive to you, but you need to get your editors to understand—this is a big story. When the time comes, you’re going to need space. I want this on the front page, and I need you to commit to that.”
“The front page is yours.”
“Great. I appreciate it, and I’m happy we’re working together.”
“Me too, me too.” Calvin paused for a second. “But can’t you tell me anything about the details of this story? Like: who it involves? What it’s about?”
“I can’t tell you anything more than it involves major players from Silicon Valley and also from China. Trust me, this news is going to blow the doors off the biotech world.”
“Does this have anything to do with what happened to you? The kidnapping?”
I sat up straight, no longer playing with my food. “How did you know about that?”
“People talk. Some of our classmates who work in tech heard about it, and they told me you’d been kidnapped. What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” My voice came out harsher than I intended. “And the story’s in no way related, so let it go, okay? Or bye-bye exclusive.”
“Don’t say bye-bye—you know I want this story. I wasn’t trying to make you upset, I swear. Just trying to dig a little deeper. You’re being so mysterious and all.”
I sighed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I was doing it for a good reason?”
“Sure—as long as you let me in on what the reason is someday soon. And let me write about it.”
* * *
WES
Ellis had been ordered to take a day off, so I asked him to meet me at the house I’d been eyeing. I texted him the address, then headed over to meet with the realtor.
He showed up just as the broker was leaving. He let out a low whistle as he stood in the driveway, looking up at the large home, which boasted skylights, an elegant stone driveway, and a three-car garage. He clapped me on the back. “This place is something else. Makes our old house look like a shack.”
I squinted at the lawn, feeling proud but also a little embarrassed by the house’s grand appearance. “Mom and Dad would have a fit if they knew the list price.”
Our parents were hardy, Midwestern middle-class stock. They had a lot of money from their respective families, but you would never know it by how they lived—modest, split-level home, pre-owned cars, and dinner made in the Crock-Pot, not some trendy restaurant like Mado.
“They’d be proud of you, and they’d want you to have it, for you and Hannah.” Ellis gave me the side-eye. “Speaking of Hannah, did you ask her to move in with you yet?”
I looked down at my shoes, which suddenly needed inspecting. “Not yet.”
