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“You thought I was going to quit.” That sucked. It was vinegar in her mouth.
“I didn’t think you were going to pull off a miracle.”
Fin shrugged. She wasn’t quitting. Not anymore. Lenny would have to get used to the idea. “I want to do it again.”
“How?”
“I have to convince Cal he needs me.” That sounded possible until she caught Lenny’s expression of my-parachute-has-a-busted-ripcord. “Don’t look at me like that. He does need me. I just don’t know how yet. He’s like Edward Lewis in Pretty Woman. He does all this captain of industry work, and he never gets a break. He’s tired and a little bad-tempered, and he needs to have some fun.”
“Grass.”
“You mean weed?” Cal wasn’t drinking last night. Would he enjoy a toke?
“No. I mean grass. Didn’t Vivian make Edward take off his shoes and walk on the grass?”
Could she stroll into Sherwood with a sod of turf and get Cal to walk on it? “Not helpful.” She slipped off her shoes and wriggled her toes—that blister wasn’t any smaller.
“Take the man to lunch.”
“I think he can buy his own lunch.” He could buy his own chain of restaurants.
“Take Cal to lunch to thank him for helping us.”
Mid-wriggle she looked at Lenny. “Oh, holy cow, yes. I can pack a picnic and take him to Central Park.” Genius.
It was too late to do that today, but not too late to call Sherwood and find out if Cal was going to be around tomorrow. She made the call and recognized Camille’s voice.
“Cal. On a picnic.” Camille laughed, a sharp unexpected sound like a bite of Honeycrisp apple. “I doubt Cal has been on a picnic since he was a kid, but you’re welcome to tempt him.”
When she arrived at Sherwood before lunch hour the next day, Camille wasn’t laughing. She motioned Fin to a seat and then said to another woman standing at the reception desk, “It’s clogging my sinus,” waving her hand over the smoke spiral of a burning incense stick.
“But it’s galangal and gardenia. It’s anti-trickster incense. It’s supposed to break curses and protect against evil spirits.”
“Please take it away, Tresna.”
Tresna picked up the incense holder and turned to Fin. “Sorry, it was meant to be a joke.” She pulled a face. She had Cal and Zeke’s dark hair and blue, blue eyes. She had to be related.
“Are you Cal’s sister?”
“Yeah, but don’t hold that against me.” She licked her fingers and snuffed the burning stick out. “Wish I had a dollar for every time someone asked that. That’s the family curse, to look like Dad. Only Halsey escaped it.”
Fin watched her leave. Halsey wasn’t your everyday name. It wasn’t Pete or Mike or John. What was the likelihood of hearing that name twice in the same week, and it being a different person?
“Cal is on a call, but he knows you’re here,” said Camille.
“Does Cal have a brother called Halsey?”
She nodded while answering a call. “Sherwood Venture Capital. This is Camille. How may I help you?”
Well that was something.
Fin waited, worried her deli-bought sandwiches would get soggy and her bottles of ginger beer lose their chill. She smoothed the skirt of her dress. It wasn’t office ready. It was a fifties throwback with a full circle skirt, made for sitting pretty on her borrowed tartan picnic rug.
By the time Cal appeared, she’d started to fret about this brilliant idea. He’d lied to her. Halsey was his brother. How many of the other people she’d pitched had a family relationship with the Sherwoods? Maybe Lenny had been right to think something was off.
“Finley,” Cal said, striding across the white expanse of foyer. He looked far too pleased to see her. She stood so when he arrived he’d get the full effect of her dress, ponytail, and lace-up, polka-dot, Mary Jane shoes.
He reached for her hand, and she forgot to be annoyed with him. “What are you doing here looking like an extra from Happy Days?”
