“Assessing. Cleaning. Starting whatever we can. She described it as a time capsule. Apparently her parents left the country six years ago, nobody’s touched it since. I’m not sure if this is a light decorative facelift, or an episode ofFixer Upper, but we’re about to find out.”
“And this needs to be done by when?”
“Next week. Celeste is still fighting for custody of her friend’s unborn baby. A caseworker’s coming to evaluate the home to determine if Celeste can take care of a child.”
“What the hell? Kind of intrusive, isn’t it? Nobody did a home visit after Koda was born.”
“Your dead best friend’s mother wasn’t trying to take the baby from you. It’s a battle between two women and two legal teams at this point, and to be honest…” I hate the words I’m about to say. “On paper, Celeste and Eleanor are kind of replicas. Wealthy, every amenity and resource at their fingertips. It’s not a question of providing for the baby, now it’s a question of who is better suited. Eleanor had a baby. She’s done this before. Eleanor lives in the suburbs. Eleanor doesn’t travel much?—”
“So Celeste is screwed.”
I nod. “That’s the gist of it. We need an edge. This house might be that edge.”
Forrest lets out a low whistle. “Wow, man. You’re in deep already. You’re fixing up a whole-ass house in under a week for a custody case you’re not involved in?”
“No.We’refixing up a five-thousand-square-foot house in under a week for a custody casewe’renot involved in.”
Forrest grumbles. “I need new friends. Ones that ask for fewer favors.”
The highway opens up north of the city, the skyline shrinking in the rearview as Westchester spreads out around us—greener, quieter, the kind of suburban sprawl that looks like someone designed it specifically to make Manhattan feel like a mistake. The houses get bigger. The lawns get wider. Each driveway showcases vehicles that look collectible.
“How’s Celeste doing with all of this?” Forrest asks. “I’ve been meaning to check in on her, but Sora and I have been flat-out with work, and Koda’s been with us every other week, so?—”
“She’s struggling. She canceled on me Saturday and has barely been responsive since. I think the weight of it finally caught up.”
“That tracks. She’s always been a keep-it-together-until-she-can’t type. One of those people who runs at full speed and then just stops.” He pauses. “When I’d take her to events, she’d be perfect all night—charming, funny, totally in control. Then she’d get in the car after and go completely silent. Like she’d used up every drop of energy performing and had nothing left.”
“That’s exactly it. Like every conversation drains her battery, and she’s operating on fumes. I keep asking myself what could help her relax. She appears to only take breaks from work to attend funerals.”
“Celeste doesn’t relax. How can she with her ex breathing down her neck?”
I take a deep breath, trying not to sound too inquisitive. “Yeah, what do you know about the bloke? Is he a problem?”
“I only met Greg once. The night I met Sora, actually. We were at a wedding of one of their mutual friends.”
“What’s the verdict?”
“Total prick.” Forrest’s jaw tightens. “He’s the kind of guy who diminishes you in a room full of people and then acts confused when you’re upset. He probably jacks off to his cleverone-liners that he thinks makes people feel small. The ego on the guy, I swear.”
“Why’d they divorce?”
Forrest glances my way. “Why do you think?”
“He cheated?”
“He made cheating a sport. Qualified it into the Olympics. Won a fucking gold medal.”
A kindling of rage begins to smoke inside my chest. I’m glad Celeste is no longer with Greg—for more reasons that I can admit to at the moment. But the fact that he hurt her pisses me off. I’ll let that fire simmer and then explode in due time.
“Geez.Do you think she’s still hung up on him?”
Forrest glances at me. A slow glance, the kind that takes a detour through amusement before arriving at the point. “Why are you so concerned with who Celeste is hung up on?”
“Professional curiosity.”
“Professional curiosity. Right.” He chews his jerky with the deliberate patience of a man who has all the time in the world to watch me dig this hole. “I think Celeste is someone who’s always trying to keep pace with Greg. He gets a new girlfriend, she books one of us. He shows up at an event, she has to show up looking better. It’s not love. It’s competition. And she’s losing because she doesn’t realize the game is all in her head. And Greg doesn’t help. He has this weird possessive thing over Celeste. He doesn’t want her, but he doesn’t want anyone else to want her. It’s crippling. She needs to get away from him, except they co-own her company together.”
“You got all of this from like four dates you went on with her?”
