I had the sense, muted but insistent, that we were circling each other. “No,” I said. “I went to Charleston last week and that was enough travel for a while.”

“Atlas told me you were there.” Of course he did. Lovers told each other things. My jealousy at their intimacy flashed so bright I had to blink it away. How lovely it would be if I could say his name like she could, dropped so casually, like ice into a glass. She continued, “With the Darleys all over the news, there must’ve been a lot of talk of them down there. How is Miles preparing for the confirmation hearings next week?”

“Don’t know,” I said. “I’ve been—”

“Out, yes.” She sat upright in her dainty chair as though it were a throne. “You’re taking some time off. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“The rumors suggest otherwise. People are saying I’ve been fired. And have you heard the one about my nervous breakdown?” This last one I hated the most for its callousness and objective sexism.

She smiled. “Yes, that one’s been floated. But don’t worry, Daisy, I’ve been defending you to everyone. Atlas, too.”

She sounded sincere, looked it, too, so I couldn’t help but lower my defenses and admit, “Miles is having a hard time trusting me. It’s a bit of a problem.”

She tapped her lips with a manicured finger. “Miles is going to want to dent Melinda Darley’s fender in the confirmation hearings, I assume?”

“Dent? More like total.”

She nodded. “I may have some gossip you can bring to him. It may help.”

I perked up, glad she had brought up the reason for this meeting, finally. “Source?”

“We have a client who is—shall we say—deathly afraid of Melinda Darley’s nomination.”

“Big Hospital doesn’t want to lose their Medicare funding,” I said.

“Of course not,” she said. “More funding, extra cash, big raises for CEOs.”

The market was getting busier; I moved my chair to the side so people could more easily pass around me. “When you said ‘deathly’ afraid, you’re talking about the very real fear of having to sell your personal helicopter, I assume?”

“Correct. Okay. So. Hold on to your panties.”

“Holding.” The sun had shifted in the time since we’d sat, and now a bright beam was almost directly in my eyes. But I didn’t want to take even the spare second to pull my sunglasses from my purse, I was so desperate to hear what she was about to say.

“When Blake was at College of Charleston, he was part of a fraternity.”

I felt my pulse accelerate. “This is about Blake?”

“About mother and son, yes. So, Blake is a senior, and as part of the frat’s hazing rituals, he stuffed five freshmen into a port-a-potty and pushed it down a hill.”

“Shit.”