"And you're sure."
"I've been sure since I found the first property on the list. A woman named Rosa Navarro ran a motorcycle repair shop in Spokane for fifteen years. I closed that acquisition. I sat across from her and made a polite offer and I didn't know what I was helping do." His voice cracks. Barely, a hairline fracture. "I know now."
The phone is quiet. I can hear Martin breathing — steady, measured, a man working through something that doesn't fit his usual architecture.
"Your father," Martin says. Stops. Starts again. "Your father would have done the same thing."
Nico closes his eyes.
I reach across the bar and put my hand on his. He doesn't pull away. His fingers curl around mine, tight, holding on.
"I'll have names for you by tonight," Martin says. The lawyer is back, efficient, professional. But something has shifted underneath — a tectonic plate moving by millimeters, invisible from the surface but changing the landscape permanently. "Don't send anything until I've confirmed the right contact. And Nicholas—"
"Yeah."
There's a muffled sound — a door, voices in the background. Then a new voice, bright and clear and so different from Martin's measured precision that it's like someone switched radio stations.
"Is that Nico? Uncle Martin, is that Nico? Give me the phone."
"Cassandra, I'm in the middle of—"
"Give me the phone, I need to tell him about Charlotte's party. Nico!"
Nico's eyes fly open. He mouthsoh noat me and reaches for the phone but it's too late — Cass is already talking at full speed.
"Nico, I wore the green dress. You were right, it was perfect, Charlotte wasfuriousbecause she wore green too but mine was better — obviously — and David asked me to dance and his hands were sweaty but in a cute way? Is sweaty hands a good sign or a bad sign? I think it's a good sign. Also I tried the champagne and it was terrible, why do adults pretend to like champagne?"
"Cass," Nico says. "You're on speakerphone."
"So?"
"So there are other people here."
"Where's here? Are you still in that little town? Who's listening? Is it the nachos bar people?"
I look at Nico. Nico looks at the ceiling.
"Yes," he says. "It's the nachos bar people."
"Oh my God, hi! I'm Cass. Nico talks about you. Well, he doesn'ttalkabout you because Nico doesn't talk about anything, but he mentioned the nachos three times in one conversation which is basically a love letter from him."
Jason makes a sound behind the bar that he turns into a cough. Robin, who arrived at some point during the call with a box of pastries and an expression that can only be described as aggressively supportive, doesn't bother disguising his laugh.
"Cass—"
"Is the bartender there? The one with the spreadsheets? Nico told me about the bar top — the oak one? He said someone's grandfather built it and he soundedweirdabout it. Like, emotionally weird. Which for Nico is—"
"Cassandra."
"What?"
"I'm going to hang up now."
"Don't you dare. I haven't told you about David's shoes. They were terrible, Nico. Brown brogues with a blue suit. I almost didn't dance with him."
"But you did."
"His hands wereverysweaty. That has to mean something."
