Chapter 58
“So. Ms. March, what you are saying is that as long as I cough up enough dough, you’re down for letting your ex–mother–in–law warm up to Cecilia?”
I was not sure if it was just me, but it felt like Hogan’s voice went up a couple of decibels when he said that.
I kept it real and said, “Depends on how much you are willing to shell out.”
If the price was right, pride could take a hike, right?
A chuckle came through the receiver. “Xaviera, you better walk the talk.”
He was probably questioning my allegiance as a business partner.
After a few seconds of thought, I cheekily asked, “So, what’s the offer, Mr. Zade?”
The line went dead silent.
I thought the call dropped, but a quick glance at my phone screen showed we were still connected.
I figured the capitalist on the other end was crunching numbers, so I didn’t sweat it and just chilled.
After a good while, I heard Hogan say, “If you can get the Zade family to take to Cecilia, I’ll make sure you get a fat reward.”
“How fat? Fat enough to buy a place in Rivertown?”
Hogan probably didn’t expect me to have such thick skin after ditching my shame, and after. hesitating for a few seconds, he replied, “Fine, a house it is.”
And with that, he hung up.
I let out a sigh, kinda kicked myself for not talking about an advance with Hogan.
Maybe the years of working together gave us some kind of unspoken understanding, because moments later, I actually got a transfer of five grand.
“Advance.”
I immediately flipped it over to my aunt.
It was already ten at night. Not two minutes later, my aunt rang me up.
“Xaviera, why the sudden windfall?”
I beat around the bush, “Just struck a deal.”
“You can’t just hand it all over to us,” she said tiredly. “My daughter has been much better recently, hardly any attacks. You need to keep some cash on hand for yourself.”
My cousin had asthma; it flared up a lot in the fall and winter. There were a couple of close calls last year, and my aunt was just trying to ease my mind.
Having a nest egg was never a bad idea.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and made up an excuse to end the call.
Saturday, I was working overtime as usual when Darren suddenly showed up.
He closed my laptop and stared at my wrist.
I looked at him awkwardly and asked, “Something up. Darren?”
“Working so hard with an injured wrist, what if it gets worse?”
I breathed a sigh of relief and said, “It’s just a scratch, no big deal.”
Darren seemed to hesitate.
Figuring he had something to say, I stopped my work and asked, “What’s up?”
Scratching his head, Darren tentatively said, “There’s a dinner tomorrow night, need to bring a date, you free?”
Before I could answer, my phone on the desk buzzed twice, a message from Wallis.
[Professor Yearwood made it, right?]
Clearly, Wallis had spilled the beans about my wrist to Darren.
No idea if they’d chatted about tomorrow night’s shindig.
I was suddenly at a loss for a good excuse.
Darren, perceptive as ever, said kindly, “If you’re busy, we can do it another time.”
I felt a bit guilty and asked, “Anything I should know? Like, dress code, gifts, that sort of thing?”
“Huh?”
“You know, what to wear, what to bring.”
Darren’s face lit up, “No need, just show up.”
He said that, but I couldn’t just rock up any old way. I’d heard plenty about Rivertown’s high society and the last thing I wanted was to embarrass Professor Yearwood.
After some thought, I picked out the dress from the tailor’s shop, paired it with a matching cashmere shawl and set off.
