Chapter 9: Lawson's POV

Lawson's POV

My chairman called before my driver had cleared the Marina Club's gate.

"That," he said, "was the best deal move I've ever seen."

I was in the back seat with my bow tie in my fist.

"I'm sorry?" I said.

"The Gallivans control Pier Nine and half the Oakland terminal," he said.

"You've put their sister on your arm in front of six hundred people and the press."

"The hotel group will fold on Monday, because they'll think we have the Gallivans behind the bid."

I looked out at the bay going by in the dark.

"I asked her because I wanted her to say yes," I said.

"Of course you did," said my chairman.

"That's what makes it work."

"I proposed to her last week," I said.

"On a loading dock, the morning she lost everything she had."

"There was no Gallivan then."

I watched a ferry cross the dark water.

"There was a woman with a banker's box of socks."

There was a pause on the line.

"Nobody knows that," my chairman said, reasonably.

"No."

It was the first time all night I had heard the problem clearly.

Nobody knew it.

The guard had been looking at his shoes.

The dock camera had been out for a month, and I had signed the work order myself.

For the whole world, there was only one proposal, and it had come after her brothers.

For her, too.

I had stood in front of six hundred people to give her room to say no as loudly as she liked.

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