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My mind is racing.
Is the universe finally aligning in my favor? I shut my eyes and inhale.
Maybe better days are truly on their way.
23
HARRISON
Roscoe has really gone soft.
While my brother is a classy, learned man, I wouldn’t have pegged him for the kind of guy who would eat Tuesday lunch in an extra-fancy, almost-girly restaurant, where they serve bite-sized servings of strange-looking “fine dining” and people go behind the back to “greet the chef” afterward. Roscoe is a huge guy and loves his full meals a lot. He eats healthy servings of stuff he knows and he loves the relaxed dining settings. This place has the uptight, fussy energy of a London tea party in the eighteenth century.
I guess that’s what being married to the absolute love of your life does to you.
Roscoe invited Charlee and me to lunch to discuss recent developments in our case outside of a work setting. Tess, always the matchmaker, had decided to make it a “double date.” It’s that kind of labeling that often makes things awkward and dramatic, but so far, the lunch has actually been pretty nice.
Maybe it’s Tess’s presence, but Charlee is not as shy as she usually is. She rode with me as we came straight from the office, and the whole time, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that a kid with my blood is growing in that still-flat tummy. She’s wearing a lovely beige-colored dress on black flats, her skin glowing more than ever, and I have to grasp onto the wheel to steady my shaking breath.
She’s pregnant.
Tess and Roscoe were five minutes early. We are now sitting at a private table of four with a view of a stunning lake, eating bland stuff that’ll leave me even hungrier than I was before we came. This restaurant is supposed to be a five-star place, but I think the rating is for the extremely classy décor, great service, and amazing ambience. For the food, I’m not so sure. I’ve spent a good deal of time in Paris, traveled all around Europe, vacationed in Asia, but I don’t know why anyone will make something called a “Cardamom-laced mushroom cucumber-leaf puree” and stuff it in an actual mushroom coated with red sugar.
Goodness.
“This is so good,” Tess says as she spurts something greenish from a tiny oyster shell into her mouth.
“I know right? So tasty!” Charlee says, spurting her second oyster shell with a laugh. How are these two enjoying themselves?
Struggling with his almost-raw steak, Roscoe shakes his head and laughs at their antics. I’m simply eating chips and over-spiced chicken, blocking out my taste buds.
“So, how is the take-down plan going? What’s the update?” Roscoe asks, putting down his cutlery to fold his arms on the table. “This far along in the drama and the media is still giving so much attention to Hayes. I genuinely thought it would have died down by now.”
Putting down my own cutlery, I lean back and fold my arms as well. This conversation alone is enough to make anyone lose their appetite. Thankfully, the women are still eating.
“I’ve done as many interviews as possible this week,” I respond. “I’m still doing more. We’re trying to equal Hayes's media attention.”
Roscoe nods gently. “That’s great, but I mean from an investigative point of view. That’s our way to attack this problem at the roots. What have your efforts yielded so far? As long as we do not have solid evidence to dispute Hayes’s claims, our reputation will continue getting worse. All the media appearances in the world will not change that. We’ve had no new clients come in for a long while now. What’s the move, Harrison? What’s your game plan?”
His words are like a hurricane setting off in my brain. The pressure is too much. From the corner of my eye, I can see Tess and Charlee setting down their cutlery uncomfortably.
Thankfully, I actually have an update for him.
A smile spreads across my lips. “You know I told you I noticed some fishy inclinations in the documents they shared with the press. I talked to the records manager at Bridges. He downloaded and printed some company accounts for me dating back to over a decade ago. You have a sharp eye for numbers, too. I thought you might help me look at these.”
Roscoe sits up straighter at the sound of looking at numbers. Even at lunch, the man is always ready to work.
“We are just going to be here, stuffing our faces with these,” Tess says, resuming her eating again and chewing something that looks like a purple asparagus.
“Since you guys won’t eat your oysters, we’ll help you,” Charlee says and reaches out for the nasty things. Oysters shouldn’t be this soggy or dark-green with milky bumps all over. I don’t understand how they can stomach it but I’m glad Charlee’s eating well. She told me she’s struggled with appetite and it’s really good seeing her enjoy herself again.
I still have a lot to learn about this pregnancy thing, but I’m willing and eager.
Splitting the documents with Roscoe, we start sifting through the information and comparing each year’s records with the numbers on the leaked document.
Time crawls by, and before we know it, an hour is gone. Tess and Charlee eventually join in after eating and are cross-checking the documents we’ve already checked, to make sure we don’t miss anything.
We’re into the fifth year’s records when Roscoe suddenly exclaims.
