“What Beyoncé school?” This was the first Juliet had heard of it.

Kathy sat down, looking too pleased with herself. “Yeah. Her.”

“Arwen?”

“Who else?”

Anyone else, that’s who. Matt, who was nine years senior to Arwen. Elena, who was six. Brett and Christopher, four.

“Are you going to talk to Dave?” Kathy asked, running a hand through her bright red hair.

“Are you?”

“No. Of course not. It’s not like I could be PM, though I’m definitely hoping to be on the interior team. Maybe meet Queen Bey.”

Juliet was very sure Kathy was too old and white to be using that nickname. She glanced out the window, her stomach clenching with nerves. “Did you know we were pitching Beyoncé?”

“Arwen mentioned it. It’s really Beyoncé’s foundation. Her PR team asked us to keep it a secret till ground is broken.”

Beyoncé. Jesus. And Kathy knew, but hadn’t said a word till now.

“Well. I have work to do, Kathy.”

“I’m sure you do.”

What did that mean? She and Kathy used to be friends, but Kathy had always been the office gossip. Juliet felt she’d been immune to that.

Now it was hard to trust her, with that Arwen haircut and the way Kathy brayed laughter from Arwen’s office at least twice a day. Kathy was here to gather intel, that’s what she was doing. To plant seeds and make trouble.

It worked.

A few hours later, so it wouldn’t be so obvious, she went down the hall to Dave’s office with the excuse of showing him the plans on a house for a former senator. She liked doing residences once in a while—she’d done her own house, obviously, and occasionally offered to do one at work, though it was small potatoes for her. She’d volunteered to do this one because it was fun and had a limitless budget, which was always pleasant.

“Is he available?” she asked the side-eying Laurie (who may have been casting a spell on her).

Laurie shrugged and jerked her chin, indicating that it was okay for Juliet to go in. Her boss had his feet up on the desk and was gazing out the window. Hard to believe he’d been a force in architecture once, since he mostly napped and went out for lunch these days.

“Hey, Dave, I’ve got the elevations on that house in Maryland. Want to have a look?”

“Sure.” She sat down and watched as he gave them a glance. “Nice job, Juliet.”

“Thanks. It’s a beautiful site.”

“That it is.”

“So, Dave . . . I heard a rumor. You made Arwen the PM on a school for Beyoncé’s foundation?”

He avoided looking at her, studying the house plans as if he’d just realized they’d come down from Mount Sinai in the hands of Moses. “Mm,” he offered.