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“Hey, Landon. Greyson and I had a great meeting. We got a lot sorted out.”
“My son will fill me in shortly.”
“Indigo, go wait in my office,” I instruct. “Ask Donna to show you the way if you’ve forgotten. I’ll be in to see you shortly.”
“Actually, you can stay,” counters my father, staring me down as Johan gets to his feet.
As we say our goodbyes and my father leads him out, Indie leans over to me, her impossibly bright green eyes wide as if with trepidation.
I know she feels something wrong when he’s near. At least she has that instinct.
“What do I do?”
“Nothing,” I respond, realizing I share some strange complicity with a woman I barely know. “Let me do the talking.”
My father walks slowly back to his chair opposite her, sitting down and turning the room to black.
“Indigo Nilsson.”
He says her full name deliberately—to let me know that he knows it, a taciturn threat that I will understand but hopefully she won’t.
She sits up straight. “Yes.”
“I hear you’ll be with us for a while.”
“Just until the end of the week,” I interrupt.
“Good. I hear you’re staying next door to Greyson. In Tom’s place.”
“And you are?” she asks, causing his brown eyes to darken.
He pauses as if outraged at the audacity of her daring to make him introduce himself. He leans back in his chair, taking up more space in the room by the second.
“Landon Everitt. Greyson’s father.”
Her throat moves as she swallows. “Well, nice to meet you,” she says. “And yes, I’m cat-sitting at Carrie and Tom’s till Sunday.”
“And then you’ll be leaving us?” he adds.
Her eyes flit quickly to mine. “Yes.”
“Good.”
“Go wait in my office, Indigo. Now. I’ll text you the password to my computer. You can type up the notes in there. I’ll be in to see when I’m done here.”
She pauses as if paralyzed, locked into the unrelentingly uncivilized glare of my father before collecting her things and leaving the room, closing the door behind her.
“I wondered how long it would take for you to find out her name, father.”
“Why wouldn’t I have the right to it? Our company is paying her.Overpayingher. She’s sitting in on important meetings with clients. It seems I haveeveryright to know who she is.” His strong fingers drum the desk. “Is there some reason we’re using her and not a temp who would cost us half as much?”
“Carrie mentioned she could do with the extra cash.”
“So, what, are we a fucking charity now?”
“Tell accounting to take her pay out of my salary,” I retort.
“Hmm…” He tips his weight back in his chair. “Is there a reason you order her out every time I enter the room?”
