She straightens, puts her hands on her hips, and looks at me like I told her I really am ordering a helicopter. “What?Allyour cousins have multi million or billion-dollar companies? How many of them are there, for God’s sake?”
“There’s two sets—a three and a two. They call themselves ‘brousins’ because they were all raised together, and are more like five brothers than cousins.”
“Cute. But you and Elliot are clearly the slackers of the family.”
“Yeah, that’s what the others think.”
“I was joking.” She violently stuffs a pillow into a case.
It didn’t sound like she was joking. And now she thinks I’m a heartless money-grabbing ass.
“It’s not all about the money. We want to start a nonprofit to give underprivileged kids access to tech. And this is the only investor I’ve found who might want to sponsor that too. That’s why it’s crucial I talk to Elliot and get to Blythewell. Our nonprofit plans depend on this guy.”
“Well, that’s something I suppose. What sort of tech business are you?”
“Data retention software. Elliot handles financial companies and legal firms out of New York. And I deal with hotel chains, start-ups, and online retailers out of San Francisco. I want to start developing something for the film industry, but…What?”
She pauses armpit-deep in the pillowcase and smiles as she shakes her head at me. “You lost me after ‘data.’ Everything else was ‘blah blah blah blah blah blah blaaah.’”
She tilts her head from side to side as she blahs. It’s equal parts irritating and adorable, and I can’t help but smile. “Well, it might not be the most fascinating thing to you, but I’m sure I’d feel much the same about the details of knitting.”
“How does that happen, though? How does a whole generation of a family grow up to be billionaire business owners?” She snorts. “Oh, yeah. Probably because all their parents are loaded and helped out.”
Jesus, talk about making assumptions. “Nothing further from the truth. Uncle Jim and Aunt Maggie, whose house I’m trying to get to, were a Boston city bus driver and a stay-at-home mom. Well, she was until they took in the other two cousins. Then Maggie cleaned other apartments in their building because they needed extra cash.”
“They had no money, three sons, and took in two more? Why on earth would they do that? By the way, you’re welcome to grab the other pillowcase and join in.” She nods toward the bedding pile.
It hadn’t occurred to me to help. That must look terrible.
I unfold the other pillowcase and search for the opening. “Walker and Tom’s parents died in a car accident when they were like nine or ten or something. Maggie and Jim were broke, but gave them a home without a second thought.”
Summer clutches the pillow to her chest. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”
I turn my pillowcase around and around, examining the edges. It doesn’t seem to have an opening.
“Yeah, when he was a teenager, Tom went off the rails a bit from all the stress and upset. So he ended up going to live with family in England, to put some distance between him and the tragedy. He’s lived there ever since. Pulled himself together though. He threw himself into music and started an indie record label in the garage when he was eighteen.”
How can a pillowcase have no opening?
“And it’s now worth a billion dollars?” she asks like it can’t possibly be true.
“Yup. It struggled for a while. But then he spotted Four Thousand Medicines playing at a little backstreet pub. Signed them. The rest is history.”
Her mouth drops open as her eyes widen. “What? No? You meantheFour Thousand Medicines? He discovered them?”
“Yup.”
“Whoa, how cool.” She lays her perfectly cased pillow at one end of the sofa and turns to me with her mischievous smile again. “Are you struggling there?”
“Is this a trick pillowcase? It doesn’t open.”
“Sure it does. In the normal way. When was the last time you made a bed?”
Good question. “Before the business took off. We started it six years ago, straight out of college. I got a housekeeper after, probably, the first year. So, yeah, maybe, five years?” Now I sound exactly like the rich ass she obviously thinks I am.
“You can finish this off then. Sounds like you could do with the practice.” She drops to the floor, sits cross-legged next to Elsa, runs her hand along the dog’s back, and looks up at me. “What do the others do?”
“Tom’s brother, Walker, has a chain of hipster-type craft brew pubs, The Toasted Tomato. Heard of them?”
