Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Is that what Piper needs? To know I love her?
If I’d found my balls and told her, would I be waking up next to her right now instead of this dreary Piper-shaped dent on the other side of my bed I can’t bring myself to smooth over?
“You magnificent idiot,” I mutter.
My phone hums again and the noise drills through my head. I grab the bastard thing to shut it up and hold my breath, irrationally hoping it’s her.
Nope.
Keenan again.
I knew he wouldn’t let go easily. I sigh as my eyes flick over his text.
Scratch everything I told you earlier. Apparently, the delivery company here in Seattle never subcontracts for a high-dollar order as big as you placed. This is totally out of the ordinary and the CEO can’t tell me why it happened. He’s stunned.
I grind my teeth, wondering if the headache from hell will disappear when my blood turns to acid.
The phone buzzes again.
Keenan: We’re investigating now, but it stinks for sure. Don’t make me tell you I think you were right twice. Because everyone has a pretty thorough account of where these oysters came from, how they were handled, and where they went. Once they got to Seattle, that’s where it gets murky.
You know I’m not your boss anymore, right? I send back. Save your sleuthing for the new CEO. He’ll need it.
I’m mid-yawn and stroking Andy’s head when my phone pings again.
Keenan: You’ll be back. And honestly, new boss or not, you’re the only one who can ever fix this.
I frown.
He isn’t wrong. I need to shower and get on the horn with Fyo to see if he’s managed to grab Apollo Finch’s schedule yet.
Keep me posted if you find anything else, I send.
Outside, it’s a typically drab summer morning, purple-grey and lifeless before the sun explodes over the horizon.
Even so, I wonder if my luck is turning around.
I woke up with a better chance at settling the score with Finch.
And if dreams mean anything, I think mine just told me how to bring my Sunshine back.
27
Loose Ends (Piper)
I can’t take this anymore.
The whole food poisoning incident sticks in my mind like a thorn.
I couldn’t sleep last night, tossing and turning and so restless to do something. What can I do, though?
I don’t work for him anymore.
I’m not in his life.
I can’t even do damage control for a man I sent into exile.
Ugh.
He may have ripped my heart out, but Brock doesn’t deserve this.
I don’t want him going through it alone.
Then I remember him telling me that his grandparents made a rule of using locally sourced vendors whenever possible. That’s why he never believed the food was bad at the Winthrope Chicago.
Is that a clue?
I’m still wondering when I find Dad on the couch, sipping a coffee from those Lanai beans I think he’s the only one drinking.
“It’s not Trader Joe’s but it isn’t half bad,” he says, holding up his mug in salute.
“I’m glad.” I sit down beside him. “Have you heard about what happened at the Winthrope?”
“The big food poisoning meltdown? Yeah, those damn commercials are everywhere—‘If you attended an event at Winthrope Seattle this weekend and experienced flu-like symptoms, call us.’”
Ouch.
“The ambulance chasers are out hard,” I agree. “It doesn’t make sense, though. Winthrope goes through a crazy detailed process to make sure they’re always serving the best. All local vendors, too.”
Dad nods, taking another pull off his cup.
“I hate to see it. That Winthrope boy seems like a good guy—”
I laugh. “Dad, he’s not a boy. He’s over thirty years old.”
He shrugs. “Well, I still sure as hell wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. A lawsuit this big is gonna be hell on his company. Good thing you walked away when you did or you might’ve gotten axed, honey.”
“Yeah, well, just out of morbid curiosity... Do you think you could find out who sold the oysters? You used to know everybody down by the docks.”
He pauses mid-slurp, looking at me over the top of his cup.
“I can ask around, Piper. But I know every veteran fisherman around these parts and no one would’ve sold him bad oysters intentionally. You sell bad stuff, you get people sick, and word gets out. Pretty soon, you’re selling your boat and moving to the Sonoran desert. Goodbye, livelihood.” Dad slaps the table. “Nah, nobody would’ve risked it. Plus, selling local, if anybody gets sick you gotta face their family. Whatever mucked things up happened somewhere else down the chain. I’m positive.”
I nod slowly, taking it in.
“Okay, but they might know something, right? I guarantee Brock doesn’t have time to vet drivers for this. Something stinks here. He agonized so much over that convention and even approved the final menu. No one at Winthrope Resorts or the Seattle branch would just let bad food slide.”
“You think he was sabotaged?” It’s like I can see the lightbulb switch on over his head.