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Brett comes over and presents Smuckers with a plastic squeaky shovel in Locke blue and everybody’s taking pictures of him running around with it in his mouth.
Then the people involved with the facility get a silver shovel with a blue handle and they all take turns digging bits of dirt out of the ground.
When it’s Henry’s turn, he takes off his suit jacket, rolls up his shirtsleeves, and digs up a massive shovelful of earth, heaving it aside. Everybody’s clapping, and he’s standing in the sunshine with his wicked, billion-dollar Henry Locke smile. He jams the shovel into the dirt and grabs his suit coat, slings it over his shoulder.
When the applause dies down, he shoots a sly glance my way. He pretends to wind his watch.
He’s mouthing a word. Infinity.
My face flares hot. But I just shake my head. Like I’m immune.
Brett has his own shtick. He holds Smuckers in his arms as if they’re wielding the shovel together. Afterward, people close in and pet Smuckers. I realize that Henry never pets Smuckers just for the pleasure of it.
“You guys got him a little Locke shovel,” I say once we’re back in the limo. “Nice optics.”
“I meant what I said,” he says. “I’m waiting.”
“For me to come and kiss you,” I say.
“And then all bets are off, Vicky.”
My mouth goes dry. “I heard you the first time.” I try to think how to change the mood. I want to kiss him. Right now. In this place. “Do you not like dogs?”
He frowns. “I like dogs.”
“I don’t think you do. The only time you ever pet Smuckers is…for a purpose. You want to make him paddle his legs or calm down or something. You never just pet him out of fun.”
“He’s just a dog, Vicky.” He doesn’t deny it, and I feel a little sorry for him right then.
“You hardly ever even say his name.”
“Smuckers is just a dog.” He glances over at me. “Is that better?”
“A dog your mother left her company to.”
“You think I’m jealous of a dog? Please, Vicky. If I wanted to wear my hair in a marshmallow Afro and live in a woman’s purse, I think I could find a way to arrange it. This is New York, after all. There is probably a dominatrix out there who’d make it happen.”
I cross my arms. “You know what I find weird? People aren’t freaking out about Smuckers’s control of the company very much. They all seem to think it’s a PR stunt.”
“A lot of people see it as a PR stunt. Connected to his dog shelter gift.”
“And you’re letting them think that.”
“We are.”
“Why not tell people the truth?” I ask. “Unless…I don’t know…”
He says, “Unless we have more evil plans to get rid of you?”
I say nothing. Because, yeah, does he have yet another trick up his sleeve? I wish I could just tell him—don’t worry, you’ll get it back.
But how can I expect Carly to keep her word if I don’t keep mine?
“You know how many people we employ?” Luckily he answers the question for himself. “Directly, we employ three hundred forty thousand people across ten offices worldwide. When you count vendors and subcontractors, it’s double that. Those are real people with real lives and families and homes, people who depend on the health of this firm to make house payments and put food on the table. Do I want to announce that a Maltese is in charge of all that?”
I wait. I know a rhetorical question when I hear one.
“No. I’m not going to rock the company with that kind of announcement. I’m showing them that things remain consistent after Bernadette’s death. I want them feeling strong, steady, capable leadership.”
