It also makes me realize that George and Vivienne probably aren’t attached to the idea of having Griff list their place, as their mother had been. They simply don’t have a good reason not to. If I give a better pitch than my brother, I might have a real shot at this listing.
With a curse, I tear everything pinned up on the war room’s walls down, tuck all the ideas away in a drawer, find a marker at the white board, and write two words: THINK SIMPLE.
I return to my laptop and pound out an e-mail to Rob and Britta, linking them to the articles I’ve read about the Stowe siblings. I close with assurances that we’ll regroup and discuss tomorrow. We can get this done.
I’m onto something. I feel it. Griff is going big, bold, loud—and he’s in deep with that strategy. Somehow, I know that’s so wrong and I’m completely right. I’m going to find a way to win. I just need one more advantage to get it done.
Keeley. I look at the clock and I smile.
Now it’s time to go.
Game on.
When I enter the condo, I find all the doors and windows open. Ocean salt mixes in the air with ginger and sizzling sesame oil that smells like one of my favorite restaurants.
Keeley is cooking. More than my stomach jumps with excitement.
“Hi.” I set my keys and laptop on the bar and peer at her behind the stove. “What are you making?” And what are you wearing under that little sundress?
She turns with a distracted glance. “Asian.”
I peer closer. “I had a wok?”
“No.” She huffs out a breath that says she doesn’t want to speak to me but knows she has to. “When I finished school, I came back here to start homework. The groceries arrived on time, but you have almost no pots, pans, utensils… How did you think I would cook the food?”
That might be a fair question. “I had, um…a couple of saucepans, didn’t I? A skillet, a cookie sheet, and some other stuff.”
She rolls her eyes. “And how long have you lived here? Never mind. I already know your excuse. You’re not home much.”
“Right. So, the wok came from where? Did you have one in your boxes?”
“No, I used my homework time to run to the Target in Kahului to buy a few things I’ll need if we’re going to eat reasonably in this place for the next month.” She reaches into her pocket, pulls out a strip of paper, and slaps it on the bar. “Here’s the receipt.”
I glance at it. She managed to fill my kitchen with stuff for less than a hundred and fifty dollars. Frugal. I would have ordered a bunch of crap from Williams Sonoma and paid the exorbitant shipping fee for the convenience. But the fact that she stopped what she was doing to take care of me…
Well, probably not all for me. She’s feeding herself, too. But she’s including me, so that counts. And it smells spectacular.
“I’ll give you cash,” I promise her. “I didn’t consider that my kitchen wouldn’t be stocked. Sorry.”
She softens and shrugs. “I know. But you’re on dish patrol. I’ll finish my homework then, so we can get started on…whatever.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks for laying out my yoga mat, by the way. I really enjoyed my morning workout. What time did you leave?”
“Six thirty. The usual.”
“You put in a twelve-hour day?” She frowns like she’s worried.
Does that mean she cares a little?
“Eleven. I worked out first. Actually, I cut today a little short, but coming home to these smells makes it worthwhile. What’s in there?” I try to peer across the space between us and into the wok.
“Not telling. You have to try it first and let me know whether you like it. I set some placemats and silverware out on the lanai. And some wine. This will be ready in two. Go change.”
“You’re bossy.”
“You need it,” she tosses back without missing a beat.
I laugh, relieved that she’s giving me more than clipped, one-word answers today.
After a quick change into shorts, I come out of my bedroom to find her carrying two plates outside. The evening is warm, pleasant. Sunset beckons over the glittering blue water, filling the sky with shades of pink, orange, and yellow. I pour wine as the sultry breeze grazes my skin. It’s nice out here. Why didn’t I ever spend time outside before? I can’t really remember a reason. Just…busy.
But I’ll change that to savor every moment I can with Keeley.
She sits beside me, staring out at the water and sipping her wine. “Good day?”
“Interesting. Britta sends her apologies for yelling at you. She’s got a lot going on.” Vaguely, I worry about whether Makaio will propose to Britta and how she might answer. The idea of my parents divorcing niggles at me, too. But I can’t borrow any more trouble now. I need to focus on prepping Keeley to become the distraction Griff can’t afford…while figuring out how to bend her no-sex rule—a lot. “I might be making some progress on the big deal I was telling you about.”
“Yeah?”
I shovel the first bite into my mouth. My taste buds are ready to declare undying love. This is probably more vegetables than I’ve eaten in the last month, but everything is so crisp and fresh. I’m devouring it with my eyes and my mouth—and I’m loving it. Maybe she’s right about dining out too much. Nothing at a restaurant ever tastes like this. “Hmm. This is amazing.”
She smiles proudly. “Now you can say you like tofu.”
I choke and try not to spit it out. “What the fuck?”
“Don’t think about it. Keep chewing. Tell me about your deal.”
We talk a bit. As long as I don’t think about the fact that I’m eating soy milk that’s coagulated into curds, I enjoy the flavor. I show her some pictures of the estate and walk her through what I’ve learned about the sellers.
“I think panoramic pictures and big parties and streaming a live YouTube event is the wrong plan,” I muse aloud. “On paper, it should be right. This is a really unique, breathtaking estate. But to convince these sellers, I think less is more.”
She looks at the pictures on my phone, then takes another sip of wine. “Absolutely. Flaunting this estate and celebrating it for these two syrup heirs who may never understand their mother’s decision to leave them even before she died will be a losing strategy.”