“You can’t tell anyone this, okay?”
Lindsey nodded.
“I don’t belong either. I’m the black sheep of the family. My parents nearly disowned me for marrying your mother. They wanted me to marry somebody else.”
Lindsey arched her eyebrows. “Who?”
“A woman from a wealthy family.”
“My mom was poor. My dad—I mean, Derek too.”
“I don’t care about that. I love your mother, and I love you. That’s what matters.”
Lindsey forced a smile. “Thanks, Dad.” She opened the door to the guest house.
“Don’t hide in there too long,” Jacob said, not unkind. “The more they know you, the more they’ll like you.”
Lindsey nodded and went inside.
Jacob walked back to the family reunion. Most of the family sat at tables under the gazebo, finishing their desserts—vanilla crème brûlée topped with raspberries from the gardens. Uniformed servers cleared plates and distributed coffee and adult beverages. They were human, but they used a robotic busboy, which was basically a box on wheels with a deep tray for dirty dishes. Rebecca sat at a table with the wives, doing her best to fit in and not doing too bad.
Eric spotted Jacob, stood from his table, and ambled over, a scotch in hand. Eric held up his glass as he approached. “Hey, big brother.”
Jacob stopped in his tracks and forced a smile. “Eric.”
“Where’d you disappear to?”
“Nowhere. Just enjoying the view.” Jacob glanced at the lake.
“You’ve been quiet.”
Jacob shrugged. “I don’t have much to say.”
“It seems like the bad press is finally dying down.”
Jacob frowned. “Thanks for reminding me.
Eric wore khaki shorts with a short-sleeve button-down shirt. His legs were pale yet covered in dark hair. He removed a Nicaraguan cigar from his shirt pocket and a cigar cutter. “You want one? Best cigar in the world.”
“No thanks.”
Eric cut the end of the cigar like a mini-guillotine, placed the cutter back in his pocket, and removed a platinum lighter. “I suppose that’s for the best.” He lit the end and puffed the cigar, the smoke smelling like coffee and cocoa and earth.
“What’s for the best?”
Eric grinned, his dark mustache stretching across his lip. “It’s probably best you stay away from anything on fire.”
Jacob glared at his younger brother. “You think this is a joke? I’ve had death threats.”
Eric’s grin receded. He put his arm around Jacob. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
The heat of the sun, coupled with the cigar smoke and Eric’s sweaty arm, was too much. Jacob removed Eric’s arm and moved closer to the backside of the mansion, the height of the structure and the overhangs offering shade. Jacob glanced up, taking in the gargantuan stone structure. The ornate peaks and molding and slate roof gave it a castle-like appearance.
Eric followed. “It’s hot as hell. Be happy you’re not in DC. It’s supposed to hit one hundred today.”
Jacob nodded, still annoyed.
“You know what your problem is?”
“I’m assuming you’ll tell me.”
“You take things too personally.” Eric took a puff of his cigar.
“Hundreds of people died in those fires, Eric. And I’m to blame.”
“That’s bullshit. That’s like blaming the president for a shitty economy.”
“Maybe.”
“Even if Housing Trust goes under, you’ll be fine. Dad will set you up somewhere.”
“I’m so sick of my life being determined by him. The only reason I’m the CEO of Housing Trust is because of him. I never wanted the job. Probably why I’m not very good at it.”
Eric took another puff and shrugged. “Then quit. I’m sure you’ve saved enough money by now.”
Jacob nodded, trying the idea on for size. “We’d be fine, depending on how the market fares.”
“You went to bed early last night.”
Jacob shrugged as if to say, So?
“I’m not sure if you know this yet, but it’s been decided. Rates are going higher. It’s time to purge the weak hands. We’re in the process of positioning defensively. I suggest you do the same.”
43
Summer and Nine Months
Summer sat on the couch with a groan, bracing her back with one hand, the other on her bowling ball belly. Connor sat on the opposite side of the couch, flipping through streaming options. She struggled to remove her engagement ring from her swollen finger, finally dislodging it and setting it on the coffee table. Not having the wedding band was the only positive point to still not being married. She leaned back and put her swollen feet on the foot rest.
“Just decide on something,” Summer said.
“What do you wanna watch?” Connor asked, still browsing.
“I don’t care.”
An urgent knock came to the door. They both turned. Connor stood and walked to the door. He checked the peephole and opened the door. Mark barreled inside, sweaty, red-faced, and out of breath.
“Shut the door!” Mark shouted.
Connor did as he was told, then approached his friend. “What did I tell you about coming over unannounced?”
“It’s an emergency. Put your phones and tablets in the fridge.”
Connor sighed and grabbed Summer’s phone from the coffee table. He grabbed the tablets from the bedroom, went to the kitchen, and put the electronics in the fridge. He returned to the couch, his face annoyed but unconcerned.
Mark grabbed a chair and sat across from Connor and Summer, also blocking the television.
“Javier was arrested,” Mark said.
Connor sat up straight, his eyes wide open. “What?”
“Javier’s brother called me. He said he was arrested for some online posts. You remember when he wrote about how the bankers own everyone and everything, including the government?”
“They can’t arrest him for that. It’s an opinion.”
“It’s the wrong opinion, and it wasn’t just that. He posted stuff about false flags. The Lusitania, Operation Northwoods, the Gulf of Tonkin, 9/11, Iran. The last thing he posted was about Psycho Island and how they send antigovernment activists there, not just psychos.”
“He might get busted for hate speech,” Connor said, “but he’s never been arrested before. They won’t put him in prison for a first offense. They’ll probably just delete his social accounts and give him an SCS penalty.”
Mark shook his head. “They’ve classified him as an Unlawful Enemy Combatant.”
“That means they can do whatever they want to him,” Summer said, her speech urgent.
“That’s exactly what that means.” Mark looked at Connor, serious as cancer. “They could torture him and find out about the video. They could send him to Psycho Island. They could send us to Psycho Island.”
“Hold on,” Connor said. “We didn’t do anything.”
“We illegally recorded a Roth trying to bribe a congresswoman.”
Connor pointed at his friend. “You and Zoe did that.”
“Relax. I know that,” Mark said, showing his hands in surrender. “If I’m arrested, I won’t tell them about the copy that you hid. As far as I’m concerned, you two have nothing to do with this. If you’re arrested—”
“Arrested?” Summer said, suddenly feeling ill, her eyes bulging.
“It’s unlikely but possible,” Mark said. “It’s better you two know what to do in the unlikely event. Just be cool, and do not under any circumstances mention the video. As far as I’m concerned, you know nothing about it.” Mark pushed his glasses up his nose and rubbed his eyes. “I deleted you guys from my social media. You should do the same. I don’t think we should see each other until this blows over.”