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“Were there? Did the atmosphere get too casual? Rhett is quite the reveler.”
“He is?”
Sherman chuckles, and it’s so like Rhett’s that my heart skitters. “I’ve been blessed with a great variety of temperaments among the younger generations of the Pickle family. Rhett is like my oldest, Jason. Wild. Charismatic. Possibly not the most dedicated to work.”
This is weird. “I hate to contradict you, but Rhett has been the most demanding, diligent, unrelenting member of this company since the get-go.”
“He’s got a chip on his shoulder. That might be my doing.” Sherman falls silent, tapping his fingers together. “We’re going to have to fix this. But what were these irregularities?”
Back to that. “There was a storm. Quite a few staff members got sick.”
“No one seriously?”
“No.” I hesitate. “And during the evacuation, Rhett was left behind on the private island when the ship left.”
Sherman’s hands fall to the armrests with a thump. “Alone? During a tropical storm?”
And here it is. “Not totally alone. I was there, too.”
Sherman relaxes against the backrest. “I see.”
I’m not going to say another dang thing.
We’re quiet a moment, the faint buzz of a copier from HR the only sound making it through the open office door.
“And you’re okay? You’re both okay?”
I fiddle with the pens on Rhett’s desk. “We’re fine.”
“How long were you alone?”
“Two nights.”
“Oh.” Now he’s looking at me differently, and I feel like he can absolutely imagine what we were up to.
“We were fine,” I add.
“Did you have food?”
“There was a bucket of pickles.”
This gets a great guffaw from Sherman. “Of course.”
This will be okay. Sherman isn’t going to judge us. “We made Pickle margaritas. There were mix packets. We were fine.”
“Pickles and margaritas. I bet that was a fine time while you waited for the boat to come back.” He watches me closely as he asks his next question. “So, what do you think has happened to Rhett?”
“I don’t think he panicked, because I don’t think he has it in him.” I clasp my hands tightly together to stop fidgeting. “But he’s spooked. And if he won’t answer us, I don’t know how to unspook him.”
“I think you’re right. Several of the boys are intensely self-reflective. His brother Axel is, too. And my Anthony.”
“Do you have any ideas where he would go?”
“Has anyone gone to his house?”
“I don’t think so.”
Sherman stands. “Let’s head that way. Meanwhile, I’ll make some calls.”
