wasn’t comfortable with anything going on behind her back, good or bad.
“So what do you think, Dad? Is this a good investment for a self-employed businesswoman who can’t even get a bank loan on her own?”
“I don’t know what kind of investment it is,” her father said. “As I told you once, I was never much good at figuring out what makes money. A smart man could probably turn a house fire into an opportunity, but all I know how to do is rebuild it and move back in. For you, though-for you, I think it’s a good idea to get out and be on your own. You’re a grown-up, Tesser. You’re capable of making your own decisions.”
“Even if I make the wrong ones, sometimes?”
“Especially when you make the wrong ones.”
Esskay circled the room, a little panicky at the sight of a place with no soft furniture on which to rest. Crow had retreated to the kitchen, where he was opening and closing the cabinets, testing the old-fashioned metal latches, scratching at the decades of paint covering the woodwork. “Pine, I think,” he called out. “Maybe maple.” Patrick stood with his hands in his pockets, studying the neon sign with the sort of baffled expression he had once reserved for Crow. He didn’t understand her, not entirely, Tess realized. He never would. Parents probably never understood their children. That was okay. She didn’t understand him, either.
“I would prefer,” Pat said, his voice a little stiff, as if he expected resistance, “that I be the cosigner on the loan, if you go through with this. I know I’m not a famous billionaire, but I think my credit’s just as good.”
“No, you’re wrong about that,” Tess said, shaking her head.
“What?”
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s better. I’d much rather do business with you.”
They shook on it. It was a deal, after all, not a time for hugging.
Favors, Arnie Vasso had once said. Your father knows all about favors. He had meant it as an insult, a sly reference to the corners the Monaghans and Weinsteins cut here and there. Now Tess saw it for the simple truth it was: Her father understood favors. How to do them, how to accept them, how to walk away when the price was too steep. It was a lesson she wouldn’t mind learning someday.
Maybe this was the place to start.
acknowledgments
First and foremost: love and undying gratitude to John Roll, who makes everything possible. For those who believe nothing good ever came of the Maryland General Assembly, all I can say is that I met my husband on the floor of the Senate, and have never regretted it.
My colleagues at the
Susie Rose arranged my first shooting lesson; any errors are the result of an inattentive pupil. I’d never have met Susie if it weren’t for Sherry Dougherty and Sandee Mahr, so a toast to the Misses Chardonnay, Merlot, and Cabernet.
A factual note: Maryland has only forty-seven senate districts. There has never been a senator from the forty-ninth district in Maryland. There has, however, been a governor who held an AK-47 on a smirking reporter. Of course, he’s no longer governor. He’s now the state’s comptroller.
About the Author
LAURA LIPPMAN was a newspaper reporter at the
