“People from other countries tend to like that stuff.” Charlie wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be fair to someone like Smithson, who he would just as soon blame for all the world’s problems. “The hats and boots and all of that—”
“Rhinestone cowboy nonsense?”
Charlie nodded. That was about the size of it.
Jean started walking toward the cluster of people gathered around Smithson.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She didn’t slow down.
“Okay.” He took bigger steps to keep pace with her, almost bumping into her when she suddenly rounded on him.
“You’re not going to tell me to stop and think?”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” Whatever happened next, he was sure Smithson deserved it. Jean squinted at him a moment longer before resuming her march. Charlie stayed half a step behind, ready to serve as her second-in-command.
“That’s why I’ll always be a deep-sea guy,” Smithson was saying as they approached. “When you bring in a giant swordfish, it’s a fight to the death.” He did some flexing and bending to illustrate. “But no shade to fly-fishing. I’m sure standing in a creek is nice too. Especially with a cold beer.” He raised his bottle to a brewer from Montana.
“Patronizing, party of one,” Jean muttered as she stepped into his line of sight.
Smithson flashed her what he probably thought was an irresistible grin. “Hello, hello. Smithson Oliver Barrett.” He held out a hand, which Jean pointedly ignored. “Who’s your daddy?”
Two hay bales to Charlie’s right, Emma Koenig jotted a few lines in a pocket-size notebook.
“Seriously?” Jean said to Smithson.
“Go on. What’s your poison? Tequila? Rum? Something a little spicier?”
The hot-cocktail guy yodeled an ear-piercing, “Yeehaw!”
“In case we end up doing business together.” Smithson did some twitchy things with his face, like the “business” in question might not actually be business related. There was no indication that he recognized Jean from their high school days, which was even more incomprehensible to Charlie than the catchphraseGet Piked. Should anyone be that excited about getting stabbed?
“That’s not going to happen.”
Smithson kept talking as if Jean hadn’t spoken. “You’re with the Finns, aren’t you?” He flicked a finger under his nose, implying that their Finnish guests were either snobs or recreational drug users. “Tell your dad I have some ideas he’ll want to hear.”
“Oh, right. Because I couldn’t possibly be running my own business. I must be here with a man.”
“My bad.” Smithson pretended to slap himself on the cheek, unfortunately stopping short of actual contact. “Feminism, wut wut. For real, though. Who are you with?”
Jean’s smile was dangerous. Charlie had never seen this side of her, but like most parts of Jean, he found it more than a little exciting. “You don’t recognize me?”
“Mmm, nope. You have an OnlyFans?” Smithson sucked on his beer in a way that made Charlie want to yank it out of his hand and dump it over his head.
His father joined them too late to hear that charming remark. Smithson’s posture changed as he greeted Mr. Pike.
“If it isn’t the man of the hour. You having a good time, sir?”
“Couldn’t be better. It’s the perfect mix of paying tribute to the past and celebrating the future.” Charlie’s dad spread his hands to indicate the young people gathered around Smithson.
“Everything old is new again.” Smithson delivered this bit ofwisdom as if he’d come up with it himself. “I’m helping them recontextualize to reach a younger demographic,” he told Jean.
“We’re telling a story about legacy,” Mr. Pike chimed in. “Family. Honoring our roots. It’s not every business that can say it’s been around for a hundred years.”
“And we want to keep it around for a hundred more.” Smithson leaned forward to fist-bump Charlie’s father. “Leave it to me, C-Money. Where I lead, people follow.”
Charlie had never found occasion to fist-bump his dad. The few times it felt like they were seeing eye to eye, it turned out to be more like when a bird thinks,hey, a friendright before crashing into a reflective pane of glass.
