“I love it.”
Her eyes held mine.
“Even after what happened?”
“That wasn’t the work,” I said. “That was one man.”
She sat back slowly.
I could almost see her filing that answer away somewhere important.
Then she asked about my family.
I told her about Emily.
The girls.
The emergency fund.
The fear.
Not all of it in those exact words, but enough for her to understand the shape of my life.
When I finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a small leather-bound appointment book.
“Yes,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I thought so.”
“Thought what?”
She looked up.
“My son runs a much larger firm in the city. Community campaigns, regional outreach, growth strategy, brand development, the whole thing. He’s been looking for someone with heart and backbone for months.”
I blinked.
I honestly thought I had misunderstood her.
“I’m sorry?”
She closed the book.
“I told him about you last night.”
That startled me.
“You did?”
“Of course I did. The woman whose life you saved is allowed to brag on you a little.”
I smiled despite myself.
“That’s kind, but—”
“It isn’t kindness,” she said. “It’s accuracy.”
I shifted in my chair.
“With respect, ma’am, people say things after a crisis. I appreciate it. Really. But I know how this goes. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’ Then life moves on.”
She held my gaze.
“I am not people in general, Sebastian. I am Evelyn Parker. And when I tell you I’m going to talk to my son, I mean I already have.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or apologize.
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say you’ll meet him.”
There it was.
Simple as that.
I stared at her.
“What?”
“My son wants to meet you.”
“When?”
She glanced at her watch.
“This afternoon, if you can get there.”
My heart gave one hard, stupid thump.
The firm she was talking about wasn’t some random little operation.
