Her cheeks turned pink. “Yes.”
“I met him a few times. He was great.”
“I wish I’d known him longer.” She exhaled, a long, stabilizing breath. “He liked my mom a lot. I remember that.”
“You were his favourite. He told everyone that, really loudly. Usually in front of your dad.”
She laughed again.
He’d spend the rest of the day digging up memories that made her smile. “So you were at dinner, and full of a certain kind of opinionated energy…”
“This woman was talking…not really complaining, just externally processing, if that makes sense? She casually says, ‘only one of our apps makes money, of course.’ And I said, ‘So why do you waste even a penny more on the ones that don’t?’”
He could imagine a few reasons why an app developer might continue projects that weren’t converting to revenue.
Monica winked at him. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do you?”
“You’re trying to apply logic to the situation.”
He crossed to where she was standing, then leaned in and whispered, “Got me.”
Her breath hitched, and she paused for a beat before she lifted her gaze to meet his. “But it’s never logic that holds on to past mistakes,” she murmured. “Only emotion.”
He reached past her and flipped a switch on the wall, lowering the van back to the garage floor. “Noted.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “All done with the van?”
“Yep.”
“What’s next?”
Normally, he’d call the customer and tell them to come get their vehicle. But it wasn't like Olivia Minnelli was coming to get her car today. They were snowed in.
He might as well keep talking to his wife. He turned around again and gestured for the stairs. “Lunch.”
17
Lunch waschicken soup with rice, which Josh pulled out of his freezer and put on the stove to heat up.
As they ate, he asked her more about the “core DNA of a business” model, and her role as a consultant.
“I position myself as a coach and a confidant. Everyone wants to gripe, you know? So I lean into that, and find a way to massage it into self-reflection.”
“Clever.” As he listened, little lines appeared on either side of his mouth. They were nice, those lines. “So you aren’t really suggesting new ideas to them.”
She jerked her attention back to his eyes. “Almost never. They already know what they need to do, at least on some level. Sometimes they need someone to shine a light in the right area. And other times it’s even simpler, they just need someone to validate their choice—and give them permission to cut what isn’t working.”
“Interesting niche. You’ve come a long way from the marketing department of Fischer Racing.”
She glanced down at her soup.
Josh chuckled. “And I make soup now.”
“Well, it is winter,” she deadpanned. “Maybe if it had snowed in L.A…” No, that wasn’t a good direction to send the conversation. She tapped on her phone screen. “I took some pictures of you downstairs. If you want them for your socials?”
He shrugged. “Pretty sure I’m over that, permanently.”
