I try to steer the conversation in the right direction. The point of the call was to hear his initial thoughts on the London farm based on the data we sent him. He gives me a brief rundown, mumbles something about having to go pick his granddaughter up, and says, “Listen. I’ve already signed the contract. I’ve made my choice. It seems to me that you’re the one who still needs to commit to a decision.”
“Sir?”
“About the complication.”
“I did stay up all night trying to come to a decision—it’s true.”
“If you have to spend hours trying to decide if you want something or not, then the answer is either no, or you’re afraid of making the wrong choice. Which means you don’t trustyourself. And I didn’t choose to come out of semiretirement to work with someone who can’t be trusted.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me. Answer me this—the thing you stayed up all night trying to decide on. Would it be worth it? Doing all the other things you do in life if you didn’t have it? Don’t think, just answer.”
“No. Not anymore.”
“Well, then,” he says. “Sounds like you’d better lock it down, hmm? Put a ring on it? Is that what the kids say nowadays?”
“I’ve never had any idea what the kids are saying, sir. I just hope I can find a diamond ring in Cleveland that’s worthy of Olivia Montgomery.”
CHAPTER 29
OLIVIA
When I get out of the Uber, I see that John’s rental car is not in my parents’ driveway. While I was at the gym, I got a text from him saying that he’d be out for a couple of hours, but he has something important to talk to me about when he gets back. We’re supposed to leave tomorrow morning and spend tonight with my family. I didn’t sit down to breakfast with my parents, claiming I had to get to the gym as soon as possible to use the sauna, but I am eighty-five percent certain that my parentsdidn’thear Johnny and me boning last night. I can live with those odds.
Probabilities!snaps Johnny’s voice in my head.Probabilities are given as percentages—odds have a value of zero to infinity and represent a ratio!
I may have caught the nerd virus.
When I get upstairs to my former bedroom, the door is open and the puppy is on the floor, splayed out across John’s briefcase, chewing on paper.
“Bob! No!” I pick up the dog, sit on the bed, and wrestle the notebook from his mouth. “No. Bad boy.” I kiss his furry littleface when I’ve freed the notebook from it. “Oh my God, you are so cute—but bad boy. No!”
What even is this?
I recognize Johnny’s chicken-scratch handwriting immediately. There are lists. I can make out words likeschedule optimization,resource allocation,risk-mitigation strategies.There’s a page markedDecision Tree.
Bob whimpers and slides around on something next to me on the bed, and I realize he’s stepping on the keyboard of John’s laptop. It wakes up the computer. I grab the dog again, but I can’t believe John would leave his laptop open like this.
As I scan the monitor…I can’t believe what I’m seeing there, either…
CHAPTER 30
JOHN
There’s a Tiffany & Co. store half an hour from the Montgomerys’ house, but it turns out you have to make an appointment first when you want a two-carat, emerald-cut diamond for a pavé-diamond platinum band, and they didn’t have one readily available. That’s what happens when you don’t research and plan for things. Or when I don’t call Iris to handle something for me. So I had to make do with what’s called an eternity ring. I bought the most expensive one in the store, and I will take Olivia ring shopping when we’re back in San Francisco. Before we go to Santa Barbara.
But this will do.
I have everything else worked out, so this ring will do for now.
Mr. Montgomery’s car isn’t in the driveway when I pull up in the rental car. I can see the window of Olivia’s old bedroom as I emerge from the car. The curtains are still open, and I don’t see her in there. It’s not unusual, but I’m getting that feeling again. Nerves. And a tickle at the back of my throat. Definitely allergies. The good news is I’m not allergic to dogs. It’s merely an immune response to environmental allergens that I haven’tbeen exposed to in over a year. My body’s histamine reaction is perfectly understandable, given the change in air quality, pollen levels, and mold spores specific to this region.
I know the Montgomerys don’t lock their front door when they’re at home, but I ring the doorbell anyway and knock three times. Like I always have. They only hear the doorbell if they’re upstairs, and if someone knocks too loudly or quickly, it startles Mrs. Montgomery. Three knocks—not too fast, not too slow. I don’t hear barking. Maybe they’re not home.
I check my phone again. There’s nothing from Olivia.
I keep my hand in my pocket and try to look like a guy who doesn’t have a small box with a twenty-four-thousand-dollar ring in there.
