Too formal. It was like a memo I would send to an employee. I threw it into the tiny wastebasket.

Thought this might be a new lead for your frozen embryo story. Happy to help in any way. Can we discuss at the tournament?

Love,

Parker

P.S. Want to have another lemonade stand? Maybe with vodka this time?

I chuckled. Yes, this was much better. And it would make her laugh. Some twenty-five years ago, we had gotten the notion to create a traveling lemonade stand in the back of Amelia’s small boat. It would have been a great idea except that the first large boat that passed us nearly capsized our vessel, the lemonade dumped over, our signs were soaked, and we were out of business before we started.

Next I texted my Mom, Can I have Amelia’s new address?

She responded, Sending her flowers? ;)

You wish.

I sort of wished, too, actually.

While I waited, I sent a memo to my father-in-law. He only worked down the hall, but we tried to limit our conversations during the day because a simple exchange could turn into an hour and a half. He still liked to get handwritten notes. I scrawled off:

I’ll meet you at the Tattersalls’ cocktail party next week at 7. RSVP’d for both of us. Can we discuss the Sea & Sky acquisition? I’d love to know your thoughts and I have some as well.

—P

P.S. Are you wearing your velvet slippers? I don’t want us to be twins.

I teased my father-in-law mercilessly about the gold-trimmed velvet slippers that he wore to cocktail parties. They were atrocious.

I closed my laptop, stood up, slipped my wallet in my back pocket and my phone in my front, and waved bye to Brian as I walked out the door.

I was meeting a potential new hire for lunch at Sant Ambroeus. She had just finished graduate school at UNC, and the dean had personally emailed about her interest in our digital media position. That had been Greer’s pet project, and since she had left, we hadn’t been able to find anyone to suitably fill her role. Or maybe it wasn’t that they weren’t suitable. Maybe it was that they weren’t Greer… I wasn’t sure.

The job listing specified at least five years’ work experience, but Lindsey Underhill didn’t let that deter her. When she sent her résumé, I deleted it right away. When the letter came from the dean, I dragged it over into my “Potential Résumés” folder. When I hadn’t contacted her after a week, Lindsey called, and I politely said, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you don’t have the experience we’re looking for.”

She called back the next day. And the next. And the next.

And, while it was annoying, it was also kind of impressive. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had an employee who wanted a job quite that badly. And after five interviews with five perfect-on-paper candidates who’d fallen completely flat in real life, I thought, Why not? I still didn’t think Lindsey Underhill had enough real-life experience to be able to take on such a high-level position. But I figured, if she wanted to work for McCann that badly, maybe I could find another job for her.