Exposed (Rosato & DiNunzio #5)(2)
“Simon will explain it. Oh, here he comes now!” Feet turned to the elevator just as the doors opened and Simon stepped out, looking around to orient himself.
“Hey, honey!” Mary called to him, hiding her dismay. He looked tired, with premature gray threaded through his dark curly hair, and though he had his father’s stocky build, he’d lost weight. His navy sport jacket hung on him and his jeans were too big. She hadn’t seen him in a while, since he was busy with Rachel, though they’d kept in touch by email.
“Hi, Mary!” Simon strode toward her, and Mary reached him with a hug, since she could only imagine what he’d been going through, not only with the baby, but losing Ellen. Mary herself had been widowed young, after the murder of her first husband, Mike. Even though she was happily remarried, Mike was a part of her and always would be, which suited her and her new husband, Anthony, just fine.
“It’s so good to see you, honey.” Mary released him, and Simon brightened.
“This office is so nice, with your name on the sign.”
“Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are.” Mary could see Simon was happy for her and felt a new rush of affection for him. “How’s the baby?”
“I’ll fill you in later.” Simon’s smile stiffened. “I just moved her to CHOP.”
Mary wondered why Rachel had been moved, but it wasn’t the time to ask. CHOP was the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, one of the best in the country. Mary’s heart went out to him. “I’m praying for her, and so is my mother. She’s got the novenas on overdrive.”
“I know, and she sends me Mass cards, God bless her.” Simon’s smile returned. “I tell our rabbi, I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“Exactly. She prayed for me to make partner.”
“Ha! Anyway, thanks for seeing me on such short notice. Are you sure you have the time?”
“Totally. My first appointment isn’t until ten thirty.” Mary motioned him out of the reception area. “Let’s go to the conference room.”
“Okay.” Simon fell into step beside her, followed by her father, The Tonys, and the pastry box, which gave Mary pause. Simon was a potential client, and she wouldn’t ordinarily have a client consultation with an audience, blood-related or not.
“Simon, did you want to talk alone?” she asked him, stopping in the hallway. “What we say is confidential, and it’s your call whether your dad or anybody else comes in with us. They can wait in—”
Feet interrupted, “No, I wanna be there, Mare. I know what he’s gonna tell you, we all do.”
Tony-From-Down-The-Block snorted. “Of course we’ll be there. Feet’s his father, and I taught him how to ride a bike.”
“I CHANGED HIS DIAPERS!”
Mary looked over, skeptically. “When, Pop?”
“THAT ONE TIME, I FORGET.” Her father held up the pastry box by its cotton string. “PLUS I GOT BREAKFAST.”
Pigeon Tony kept his own counsel, his dark gaze darting from Simon to Mary, and she suspected that he understood more than he let on, regardless of the language.
Simon smiled crookedly. “Mary, you didn’t think we were going to shake them, did you? It’s okay. They can come with us.”
“THIS WAY, I KNOW WHERE IT IS!” Her father lumbered off, down the hallway.
“Of course, we’re all going!” Feet said, at his heels. “We’re family. We’re all family!”
“Andiamo!” said Pigeon Tony.
Mary led them down the hallway and into the conference room, where Thomas Eakins’s rowing prints lined the warm white walls and fresh coffee had been set up on the credenza. The far side of the room was glass, showing an impressive view of the Philadelphia skyline thick with humidity. July was a bad-hair month in Philly, and Mary was already damp under her linen dress.
She closed the conference-room door, glancing at Simon, who perched unhappily on the edge of his chair. He’d always been one of the smartest and nicest kids in the neighborhood, affable enough to make friends even though he was one of the few who didn’t go to parochial school. He’d gone to Central High, and the Pensieras were Italian Jews, but the religious distinction made no difference as far as the neighborhood was concerned. The common denominator was homemade tomato sauce.
“Simon, would you like coffee?” Mary set down her purse and messenger bag while her father and The Tonys surged to the credenza.
“No, thanks. Let’s get started.” Simon sat down catty-corner to the head of the table.
“Agree.” Mary took the seat, slid her laptop from her bag, and powered it up while her father and The Tonys yakked away, pouring coffee and digging into the pastry box.
“MARE, YOU TWO START WITHOUT US. DON’T WAIT ON US.”
Mary pulled her laptop from her bag, fired it up, and opened a file, turning to Simon. “So, tell me what’s going on.”
“Okay.” Simon paused, collecting his thoughts. “Well, you remember, I’m in sales at OpenSpace, and we make office cubicles. We have different designs and price points, though we also customize. We did $9 million in sales last fiscal year and we have forty-five employees, including manufacturing and administrative, in Horsham.”
“How long have you worked for them, again?”