diva?” Kate smiled, then laughed. The combination represented a pattern both genuine and frequent.
“My thoughts exactly.” Peter put his hand over hers and rubbed. The gesture reminded him of the last time he had seen his mother alive. As they stood in the shadows of the building that morning, he had taken her hand and circled the back with his thumb in an attempt to calm her. In a reflex, Peter abruptly withdrew his hand from Kate’s.
“Did I do something?” she asked.
He exhaled deeply and regretted the sudden melancholy, but his emotions had just caromed around a place he found difficult to escape. Peter wondered if his mother had seen Kate at any time over the years. And did Kate suspect her father and his mother had once been intimate?
“Did you . . .” He wanted to ask, but if she didn’t know about the affair, wouldn’t it be better to keep it buried?
She reached across and covered his hand. Her flesh felt comforting.
“Did you ever see my mom, these last few years? Since our families stopped being social friends, I mean.” He stared, vainly searching for clues.
“A couple of times at the office. I meant to say something—how sorry I was, but I didn’t know how you’d react.” The wet sheen over Kate’s eyes built into droplets that she wiped away. “Father says he worshiped your parents. And even though your father broke off their friendship those last few years, Father never stopped admiring him.”
“Jason’s been a good friend.”
They worked their way through the painful conversation and by the time dinner arrived, they were back to sharing happier thoughts. Later, just after Kate paid the check, Peter said, “I’ll repay you for dinner once I get my first paycheck.”
“Not so fast,” Kate said. “I don’t want your money. What I want is for you to reciprocate. You can buy me dinner next time.”
“Sounds good. I’ll call.”
She wagged her head. “When a guy says he’ll call, it’s a blow-off. I’m not letting you off so easily. Your paydays are the fifteenth and the last day of each month. Next Tuesday you are once again solvent.”
“You know what day I get paid?”
“I told you: Father and Morgan have a relationship that goes way back. Our firm has a department that handles payroll for many of our clients, including Stenman Partners. We do most of their paperwork, banking, even some client billing. When I heard you got the job, I peeked at some of their records. Don’t tell anybody, but I know Father’s computer password and user name. If they found out, they’d change the entire system. Supposedly impenetrable.”
“Then how did you tap into the thing?”
“I was doing some work at home, over a weekend. Father was having a hard time—I think it was the weekend your mother . . . well, it hit him hard and he’d been drinking. He left his laptop on and I remembered his password: Hannah-anne-kate. Your mother’s, my mother’s, and my names, all pasted together. I also have a semi-photographic memory and recalled his ten-digit username.” Her mouth pleasantly stretched. “Okay, so I don’t have a photographic memory. I’m nosy, and I wrote the letters and numbers down. So today, I gave it a try. Bingo-bango. I had Stenman Partners’ payroll records staring at me.”
“That’s a lot of trouble, but at least I can alert my landlord he’ll be getting paid soon. With that settled, how’s Friday of next week for dinner?”
“It’s a date.”
“On another topic,” Peter said, “maybe you can tell me something about Morgan Stenman.”
Kate nodded. “She’s gruff, but she’s been like a kind aunt to me.”
“Can you tell me anything about her partnership? I know nothing, yet I’m about to dive in and swim amongst the sharks, so to speak.”
“Some, though I’m far from an expert on stocks and bonds.”
Stenman Partners managed, she said, a hedge fund that made leveraged bets on everything: stocks, bonds, currencies, and
“My thoughts exactly.” Peter put his hand over hers and rubbed. The gesture reminded him of the last time he had seen his mother alive. As they stood in the shadows of the building that morning, he had taken her hand and circled the back with his thumb in an attempt to calm her. In a reflex, Peter abruptly withdrew his hand from Kate’s.
“Did I do something?” she asked.
He exhaled deeply and regretted the sudden melancholy, but his emotions had just caromed around a place he found difficult to escape. Peter wondered if his mother had seen Kate at any time over the years. And did Kate suspect her father and his mother had once been intimate?
“Did you . . .” He wanted to ask, but if she didn’t know about the affair, wouldn’t it be better to keep it buried?
She reached across and covered his hand. Her flesh felt comforting.
“Did you ever see my mom, these last few years? Since our families stopped being social friends, I mean.” He stared, vainly searching for clues.
“A couple of times at the office. I meant to say something—how sorry I was, but I didn’t know how you’d react.” The wet sheen over Kate’s eyes built into droplets that she wiped away. “Father says he worshiped your parents. And even though your father broke off their friendship those last few years, Father never stopped admiring him.”
“Jason’s been a good friend.”
They worked their way through the painful conversation and by the time dinner arrived, they were back to sharing happier thoughts. Later, just after Kate paid the check, Peter said, “I’ll repay you for dinner once I get my first paycheck.”
“Not so fast,” Kate said. “I don’t want your money. What I want is for you to reciprocate. You can buy me dinner next time.”
“Sounds good. I’ll call.”
She wagged her head. “When a guy says he’ll call, it’s a blow-off. I’m not letting you off so easily. Your paydays are the fifteenth and the last day of each month. Next Tuesday you are once again solvent.”
“You know what day I get paid?”
“I told you: Father and Morgan have a relationship that goes way back. Our firm has a department that handles payroll for many of our clients, including Stenman Partners. We do most of their paperwork, banking, even some client billing. When I heard you got the job, I peeked at some of their records. Don’t tell anybody, but I know Father’s computer password and user name. If they found out, they’d change the entire system. Supposedly impenetrable.”
“Then how did you tap into the thing?”
“I was doing some work at home, over a weekend. Father was having a hard time—I think it was the weekend your mother . . . well, it hit him hard and he’d been drinking. He left his laptop on and I remembered his password: Hannah-anne-kate. Your mother’s, my mother’s, and my names, all pasted together. I also have a semi-photographic memory and recalled his ten-digit username.” Her mouth pleasantly stretched. “Okay, so I don’t have a photographic memory. I’m nosy, and I wrote the letters and numbers down. So today, I gave it a try. Bingo-bango. I had Stenman Partners’ payroll records staring at me.”
“That’s a lot of trouble, but at least I can alert my landlord he’ll be getting paid soon. With that settled, how’s Friday of next week for dinner?”
“It’s a date.”
“On another topic,” Peter said, “maybe you can tell me something about Morgan Stenman.”
Kate nodded. “She’s gruff, but she’s been like a kind aunt to me.”
“Can you tell me anything about her partnership? I know nothing, yet I’m about to dive in and swim amongst the sharks, so to speak.”
“Some, though I’m far from an expert on stocks and bonds.”
Stenman Partners managed, she said, a hedge fund that made leveraged bets on everything: stocks, bonds, currencies, and
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