Maybe I need to work on my withering tone, because Felix only grins. “I wasn’t aware hair could be carbon neutral.”
It takes another beat for it to click that he’s reading the cover of my magazine. Unfortunately, I can’t say anything about his hair, which has bounced back from the stress of air travel and looks even better than yesterday. “I guess the rumors of your omniscience were exaggerated.”
“Ooh, look at you.” He hits me with a sarcastic finger wave. “AP English or SAT prep?”
Like I’m going to tell him. Maybe I’m a person who knows big words. Omniscient. Onomatopoeia. Osteoporosis. Stuff all the cool kids are talking about.
“You’re giving me an existential crisis,” Felix fake pouts.
I study his face for signs of an imminent breakdown, but he looks too pleased with himself.
“Am I carryingthebag of the moment?” Felix pats the faded canvas tote that’s probably full of fancy art supplies and next year’s day planner, or whatever he plans to do poolside. Besides bothering me.
“The bag is the least of your worries.” I slide my sunglasses into place, settling my head against the lounger in a subtle signal that the conversation is over. He’s free to go about his business and let me enjoy the rest of my day.
Felix ignores the social cue. “So.”
It’s obviously the prelude to something bigger, but that doesn’t stop him from indulging in a pause long enough to parallel park a school bus. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Wow, somebody’s tense. Maybe you should choose less judgy reading material.”
“I’m trying to relax. Savor the peace and quiet.”
“You seemed pretty relaxed last night.”
Is that a backhanded compliment? I’m not ready to lower my guard, especially when he casually spreads his towel on the lounger next to mine. So much for scaring him away.
“It was a good setup,” I say, like I’m congratulating another parent after a peewee soccer match.
Felix snorts.
“What?”
“You kind of went off the rails.”
“It was nothing personal.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “It felt personal when you poisoned me.”
“I was committed to my role.”
“Oh really? Because it looked to me like you were scared I was going to crack the case before you.”
“That thought never crossed my mind,” I lie. “It’s like Chekhov’s pistol. If you give someone a poison ring, clearly you want them to use it.”
“You were supposed to poison the cat food, not my drink. To sabotage the business.”
“It’s called improv.” I shrug. “Claude would have approved.”
“Probably,” Felix admits, giving in a lot more easily than I’m expecting. He sounds distracted, like there’s something else on his mind. I force myself not to ask, which turns out to be the right play.
“His sister was a piece of work.” He glances at me, and I give him an eye roll of affirmation. If anything, it’s an understatement.
“It’s going to be awkward having her around,” he continues. “I don’t see her meshing with everyone else.”
“My grandmother thinks she’ll sell the unit back to them.” There were some other details about bylaws and boards, but that’s the part I remember. “Take the money and run.”
Felix doesn’t look convinced. “Did you see Mervyn’s face when he came back from the parking lot yesterday?” He imitates the screaming emoji, hands bracketing his cheeks. “Headed straight for the bar.”
