“What was it? A rare first edition of Rich Dad, Poor Dad?” WIC’s look was a notch past curiosity. “He’s using expensive gifts to try to get Liza off his neck. But it won’t work!” He clapped again. “But what was it?”

Liza had no idea why she was absolutely unwilling to tell him what was in that box, but she would rather rip it up than have him flip through it and see her doodles and notes on top of his notes. Hear him mock it.

Maurice stood between them. “WIC, my brother! Mr. Dorsey is nowhere to be found. Why does every conversation have to be about him? I’m very interested in your plan to save Netherfield Court.”

Liza squinted at her little brother. He had these flashes of intuition about people that sometimes surprised her.

Bev tsked. “I see Mr. High and Mighty ain’t out there contradicting this mess. He’s just gonna let you take the heat for how this looks.”

WIC pulled up his slacks and sat at the foot of the bed. “I hate to say this, Ms. Bev, but this is typical Dorsey. Letting the Brown people endure the blowback of his decisions. He’s enjoying this.”

Janae winced. “There are just as many disparaging Asian remarks as there are Black. He can’t be too happy about that.”

“The power differential is too high, Janae. He should be out in front because he has the power to do so. But he’s gonna let the laborers do the work for him,” WIC said.

“He doesn’t seem like the out-in-front type,” Janae said thoughtfully. “When David and I hang out with him, he almost disappears into the wallpaper. I was shocked Liza got him to play along with us at the office.”

WIC’s eyebrows rose. “He played along to what?”

Janae laughed prettily at the hazy and mostly wrong memory. “We were snowed in and bored to death and played hide-and-seek. I forget most of it, but I do remember Dorsey chasing Liza or something. Or maybe he had caught you? Y’all slept in those pods . . .”

“It’s all fuzzy!” Liza interrupted. “The point is, he’s a stick-in-the-mud who’s not out in front.”

“You spend a lot of time defending him when you should denounce him. Post something on the ’Gram to tell people how you feel about being used,” WIC demanded.

She could feel herself bristling. “I think it was simpler than that,” Liza said defensively.

“What? That he just happened to ask the person leading the opposition to his development work to dance in front of a thousand eyes and cameras?” WIC shook his head. “Look at how bad it’s getting.”