Priceless

“I thought you said buy, not goodbye,” he says.

“Don’t sell or buy anything and we will be good.”

“Even if the market crashes?”

“Especially if the market crashes.” If the market does crash, as it threatens to do every damn day given the political climate, I will have to return to the office, but that’s the only thing that’s getting me back here today and hopefully for the rest of the week.

“I thought you fired that guy,” Rebecca grouses in my ear. “I hate how many chances you give people.”

“People who make mistakes are less likely to repeat them.” Take me, for example. I’m never listening to my sister’s fashion advice again. My private elevator dings and I step inside. One of the perks of being the owner of this building is that even though I’m on the top floor of this high-rise, I never have to wait for anything, including a ride down to my car.

“Not true at all. Your endless faith in humankind is disturbing. I hope you know this.”

“Rebecca, you have been my legal counsel for almost a decade and you remind me of it almost daily, so I do know.”

She grumbles something unintelligible under her breath, but I can guess it’s something along the lines of Why do I put up with this dumbass? or I do not make enough money for this.

“Also, if you think I should always be firing people who make mistakes, why is it a bad thing when I’ve won again?”

“Because you shouldn’t win cases where you’re on the wrong side. When people make mistakes, you’re in the right. When you sue people for made-up things, you’re in the wrong. See how that works?”

“I sense that there is a logical argument impending and all I want to know is exactly how I’ve won, not the sad, crooked path I took to get the victory podium.” The doors slide open in front of my parking spot. I press the button on my keys and the gulf-wing doors of my Lambo swing up.

“Maple London has agreed to make one piece of jewelry for your mother. That’s what you’ve won. She wants to meet your mother so she can make the right piece for her.”

“Excellent. Let her know I’m on my way there right now.” I gun the throaty engine and roar up the ramp.

“In the event that you kill yourself in that death trap of yours, what should I tell your sister?”

“That she’s the best sister a man could have and I hope she and Mom spend every dime recklessly.” I pause at the exit and wait impatiently for the attendant to release the gate arm. “Actually, strike that. You’ll need to amend the will. Maple will have to get a third.”

Rebecca laughs.

“No. I’m serious.”

She stops immediately. “Oh no. You are serious. I can hear it in your voice. That’s the one you use when you want to buy someone’s company. I can’t change your will to include some random woman you met three days ago!”

“Only three days? I feel like it’s been longer.” I have been, quite literally, counting the hours until Rebecca’s call came through. To pass the time, I drove over to Maple’s neighborhood and sat in the coffee shop until they kicked me out. I spent enough on coffee I didn’t drink and muffins I didn’t eat to own the place by now. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. “Rebecca, there’s a coffee shop across the street from London’s place. Buy it.”

“Why? Do you plan to give it to her?” she says sarcastically.

“That’s not a bad idea but I’m going to need a good place to stalk her from if she doesn’t let me stay in her workshop so, no, make sure my sister gets the coffee shop. Maple can have the Joan of Arc painting by Lepage. She’d like that.”

“That’s worth around ten million!” Rebecca sounds near tears. “You just met her. Can we hold off on giving your priceless art away to near strangers?”

Who knew my lawyer had so many theatrics in her? Although, being a lawyer is sort of like a con job so I guess it makes sense. “I’m marrying this woman,” I say and zip in behind a cop I know. He flashes his lights in acknowledgement and gestures for me to follow him. Sometimes being the former commish’s son pays off. The cop turns on his sirens and starts speeding. I follow, tailing him close behind. It’s the only way I’m making it over the bridge within the next hour.

“I want to say you’re kidding but I know you’re not.” She’s finally turned the corner from astonished to resigned. “I’m drawing up a prenup in case you come to your senses.”

“I won’t need it. I hope to be sick in love for the rest of my life,” I reply cheerfully before hanging up. Once across the bridge, I wave thanks to my police escort and speed up the street toward Maple’s. I knew Rebecca would come through for me. There’s no line outside of Maple’s shop today. According to the baristas, the shop is only open on Tuesdays. I pull up in front of the store, park and hop out. A couple of kids on skateboards almost crash as they roll by the car. I give them a hundred bucks to watch the vehicle for me before making my way down the alley to the side door where I know the entrance to the workshop is located.