Chapter 4: The Bet

"Stealing what?" I said.

"She didn't say. She doesn't need to. That woman could sell a rumor to a fencepost."

"Granny's heard?"

"Imogene hung up on her. Twice."

That made me laugh, which made my eyes sting.

"It isn't true," I said.

"I know it isn't. I've seen the books you send the fund every quarter."

He coughed, a long dry rattle.

"What do you need from me, girl?"

I looked through the glass at Bentley's closed blinds.

"Keep your phone by your chair Friday afternoon. When it rings, pick up."

"I'll be there," he said, and hung up without goodbye, like always.

***

Bentley and Breanne stopped hiding after that.

They came in together on Thursday, holding hands across the lobby.

She took his calls. She signed for his packages. She ordered the interns around in the voice of a boss's wife.

Sheree caught me at the coffee machine with her jaw clenched.

"Say the word and I'll put her through a window."

"Hold steady," I said. "Let her talk."

By Friday morning Breanne had tried me five times and gotten nothing.

The sixth time, she didn't knock.

She came into my office in a new red jacket and shut the door behind her.

"He doesn't want you anymore. Everybody knows it. Why won't you just leave?"

I got up and straightened her lapel for her.

The tag was still tucked inside the collar.

"Here's the thing, Breanne. A man's money shows you where his heart is."

"I hold forty-nine percent of this company. What do you hold?"

Her face went blotchy.

"You think I can't get some?"

"I think you can get a lot of handbags."

She pulled out her phone, tapped the screen and held it up between us.

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