Made in Manhattan

“The vote is in one week,” Edith said. “This is crunch time. If you walk away, it’ll show the board you’re not prioritizing this. That you’re still—”

“Still what?” Cain whirled around on his grandmother. “Still a piece of shit from the bayou? Still a slacker?”

Edith’s nostrils flared. “We can’t afford to let them see you as a quitter. Or someone who takes off on a whim.”

“A quitter.” Cain’s hands landed on his hips. “What you mean is I can’t quit your agenda. Because you have no issues with the fact that I turned my back on my real life in New Orleans. You didn’t hesitate to ask me to walk away from my business, my friends, colleagues…”

“I’m sure people can load up trucks just fine without your careful supervision.”

Violet winced. It was a horribly condescending thing to say. She knew it even before Cain’s expression turned thunderous.

“You’re right about one thing. My team is more than capable,” he said. “But you’re not the business-minded genius you think you are if you assume I’ll leave them to deal with the Mardi Gras rush on their own while I sit in a fancy conference room drinking Italian espresso.”

“Well then, you might as well kiss the company goodbye,” Edith said. “Because sitting around in fancy conference rooms is what we do.”

“Do it without me for three days. Three days is all I’m asking for.”

Edith huffed, and then did a double take when she finally registered Violet’s presence.

But instead of looking embarrassed that Violet had witnessed the spat, Edith lifted an accusatory finger and pointed at Cain. “Tell him,” she ordered Violet. “Tell him he can’t go.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Violet said quietly.

Edith started to nod in agreement, then her lips parted in shock when she registered Violet’s words. It was a toss-up who was more surprised: Edith or Cain.

“The interviews are next week,” Edith said, her voice more pleading than angry now. “We haven’t even begun to prepare. I’ve managed to sweet-talk some of the board members’ assistants into giving me the questions he’ll be asked, but—”

“So give me the questions,” Cain said. “I can read them on the plane.”

“That’s not the same as practicing or having someone to explain each person’s idiosyncrasies.”

“Well, it’ll have to be good enough, Edith,” Cain said gently, his tone surprisingly patient. “Because I didn’t come here to ask your permission, just the courtesy of letting you know in person that I’ll be gone until Wednesday.”

Edith made a low sound of irritation, and Violet couldn’t help but smile, because it wasn’t a noise she’d heard Edith make before, but it was still familiar. She wondered if Cain realized how much he resembled his grandmother in this moment.

Edith’s gaze snapped to Violet, and she quickly wiped the smile off her face, but not before Edith’s expression turned speculative. She looked back at her grandson.

“Take Violet with you,” Edith commanded.

“What?” Violet and Cain said at the same time.

Edith was already nodding, as though the decision was final. “Violet knows all the board members. With her insights, you’ll have them eating out of your hand.”

“I don’t want them eating out of my hand. And it’s Mardi Gras, Edith. Even if I wanted to spend it doing mock interviews, and I don’t, there’s no chance of finding a hotel room within fifty miles this late in the game.”

“So, she can stay at your place.”

“Hell no,” Cain snapped.

Violet looked away quickly so he wouldn’t see how much the swiftness of his rejection hurt.

He saw it anyway, and swore under his breath.

“My place is small, Duchess,” he said gruffly. “I’d sleep on the couch, but we’d still be sleeping in the same room. You’d have no privacy.”

I wouldn’t mind.

“Don’t be an uptight prude, Cain,” Edith said.

Violet let out a startled laugh, and Cain gave both women a dark look.

“I’m not a prude,” he said, running a hand through his hair in aggravation. “I’m just saying I’ll be working most of the time. What would you even do?”

“She’s a big girl, she can entertain herself,” Edith persisted.

“She can also speak for herself,” Violet cut in.

Edith opened her mouth, irritated at the interruption, then nodded. “Of course. Tell Cain you want to go to New Orleans.”

Violet shook her head in amusement at the older woman’s high-handedness. Then she looked at Cain. “I want to go to New Orleans.”

“See,” Cain said, throwing up his arms in triumph as he turned to Edith. “She—”

Then he turned back to Violet, stunned. “What?”

She shrugged as though she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell, shocking everyone in the room, including herself. Especially herself. But the more she sat with the decision, the better it felt. “I’ve never been. I’d like to see it.”

He looked skeptical. “It’s dirty, and wild, and loud. Especially at Mardi Gras.”

Violet laughed. “Wow, way to sell it. I thought you loved your city.”