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“Alright,” she said. “I’lltry. Just make sure I sell something so Dad doesn’t hate me.” Her tone softened. “Please.”
I held out my hand. “That’s a deal,” I said.
“Aren’t you going to open that?” I tipped my head towards the golden envelope she’d tossed on the dashboard like junk mail.
She shrugged. “Dunno. Probably not.”
I turned out of the business park, pulling into the traffic queue. Rush hour. Gridlock. “You earned it, you should open it.”
“I don’t wantanythingfrom him. Except my Harrison Gables trip. That’s the only reason I’m here.”
“Theonlyreason?” I shot her a smile. “You’re telling me you didn’t enjoy today just a little bit? Didn’t enjoy putting your ticks on the board?” I paused. “Don’t you enjoy our little lunchtime chats?”
She tutted at me. “Alright,yes, I enjoysomethings. I still don’t want his shitty envelope, though.”
“Fine,” I said, and reached over to take it. “I’ll save it for Monday, give it to the next person to get a tick on the board.” She shot me a look and it said it all. I laughed, dropped it in her lap. “Open it,” I said.
She poked her tongue out, and then she opened it.
“Well?” I prompted.
She cast it back onto the dash. “Vouchers. Some posh clothes shop I’ll never visit in a million years.”
“Why won’t you?”
“It’s not me.”
“Why isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “It’s just not. I’m not Verity. I don’t do all polished and preened and pompous.”
“You don’t do pompous,” I agreed. “Polished and preened, however. You do those very nicely.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “I’m still not going.”
I didn’t push it, just smiled to myself as she took the voucher from the dash and slipped it into her bag. “He’s very proud of you.” I looked over at her. “As am I.”
“My second call was lucky.”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t. I heard it.”
“You did?”
“I did.” I reached over and squeezed her knee. “I mean it, Katie, I’m very proud. You should be, too.”
“You helped me,” she said. “A lot. Thanks.”
“I helped everyone, but it was you who put those ticks on the board.You.”
Finally, for the first time since the awkward hug with her father, shegave me a proper smile. It started at her eyes and went all the way down to the fingers that squeezed mine. “I did it, I really did it, didn’t I?”
“You did, yes.”
“And Verity didn’t.”
The warmth in my gut turned cold. “This isn’t about Verity, this is about you.”
“I know,” she said. “But still.Idid andshedidn’t. I bet she’s seething. I bet she can’t believe theidiotsister nailed it and she didn’t.”
