It was moving too fast and sounding too good to be true. “That’s pretty ambitious,” Jo said. “And expensive.”
“Leonard said he’ll give us twenty million if we come up with something good.”
That couldn’t be right. “Twenty million dollars?”
“He gives hundreds of millions to charity every year. Twenty million is just a drop in the bucket. Plus, he has an ulterior motive. He needs to wash some of the taint off Culling Pointe.”
“Oh my God, Claude.”
“We can get more if we show we’re successful. We could start an organization devoted to preparing girls for the world. You could be the CEO.”
“Me?” Jo repeated. Her head was spinning.
“Why not? You’re a successful businessperson. You know the world of fitness, and you kick serious butt. Plus, you have a girl of your own. I know this all sounds crazy, but if Leonard says yes, would you be interested?”
Jo figured it wouldn’t look terribly professional if she leaped from the table and jumped up and down. “I’ll need to discuss it with my husband.”
“Of course!” Claude agreed. “Maybe we could do a little market research just to prove to ourselves and our gentlemen friends that the idea could work. Do you think we could use your social media accounts to send out an invite for a free self-defense class for girls? We could see how many young people come—and how many of their moms sign up for Furious Fitness memberships before they leave.”
“Sure. I’ll get on it right away,” Jo told her.
It wasn’t the CEO title that appealed to her most—or the millions they’d be able to spend. The program itself could be just what she needed—a way to teach Lucy how to fight for herself. The solution seemed so simple now. The relief it brought Jo was intoxicating, and the gratitude she felt was beyond expression.
“Wonderful! I suppose I should let you get back to work now,” Claude said as she gathered her things. “By the way, would you mind asking your friend Harriett to reach out to me? We’re still having a terrible time with those flowering bushes that have taken over the Pointe. I’m hoping she’ll know how to help.”
Jo felt her brow furrow. “I’d be happy to.”
Art arrived home with his own good news. His latest play had found a backer. Casting would begin at the end of the month. The money was surprisingly good, but Jo’s delight had nothing to do with the family finances. Art finally felt like her partner again. That evening, Jo cooked everyone’s favorite lasagna, Art made strawberry shortcake, and the Levisons enjoyed their best family dinner in years.
After the dishes were washed, Jo picked up Nessa and the two of them drove to Harriett’s. They found her on her hands and knees in the garden, harvesting seeds from the spiky pods of a large, tropical-looking plant. When she saw them, she sat back on her haunches.
“You have news.” Harriett stood up and eyed Jo closely. “Does it call for champagne? Chase left a stash in the cellar.”
“Wouldn’t hurt.” Jo hadn’t been able to stop smiling all day.
“I’ll grab a bottle.” Harriett passed her basket to Nessa.
“What are these?” Nessa ran her fingers through the reddish-brown seeds. “They’re pretty.”
“Castor beans,” Harriett told her.
“For castor oil?” Nessa asked. Her grandmother had rubbed a little on her skin every night before bed and taken a tablespoon every morning by mouth to help keep her regular.
“Mmmhmm.” Harriett hurried toward the house. “Wait here.”
Nessa watched until she was sure Harriett was out of earshot. “She seem a bit off to you?” she asked Jo.
Jo laughed. “Are you kidding? Harriett’s never been on.”
“You ever wonder what she knows that we don’t?” Nessa asked.
“Every day,” Jo said. “I almost want to give her a call when I wake up in the morning and ask her if I should bother getting out of bed.”
Harriett soon reappeared in the garden with a bottle of champagne in one hand, three flutes in the other, and two more bottles tucked under her arms. Nessa rushed over to help her.
“Geez, Harriett. Do you figure we have enough champagne?” Jo asked.
“We’ll see,” Harriett said. “There’s more where that came from. Have a seat. I’ll start a fire.”
Jo and Nessa sat side by side on a wooden bench that faced a fire pit Harriett had built in her garden. The late-August day had been blistering hot, but the evening breeze that came in off the ocean was cool and sweet. Soon a fire was dancing inside the circle of rocks, which resembled a miniature pagan henge.
“Now,” Harriett said once they all had full glasses in their hands. “Tell me.”
“You sure you’re ready?” Jo joked. “You don’t want to make some pigs in a blanket or knit us all flute cozies?”
“I’m ready.” Harriett seemed to have lost her sense of humor.
“Okay then.” Jo shot a quick glance at Nessa, who was gazing at her champagne with thirsty eyes.
As Jo recounted the events of the morning, Harriett listened closely. She didn’t ask any questions. She drank in the information like soil absorbing the rain.
“I know what this means after what happened to Lucy,” Harriett said when Jo had finished. For a moment she seemed more human than usual—like the woman Jo had met in a parking lot years before. “Here’s to both of you.” She lifted her glass and drained its contents in a single gulp.
It was an oddly somber toast.
“Wow,” Jo said.
“Yes, here’s to Jo.” Nessa lifted her champagne glass and put on a cheerful smile.
“Sk?l.” Harriett guzzled her second glass of champagne, then humorlessly poured herself a third and downed that one, too.
“Thanks, guys.” Jo wondered if her announcement had conjured bad memories for Harriett. Perhaps she should have been more sensitive. She knew Harriett’s advertising career had ended abruptly. But it was hard to believe that anything as mundane as a job could remain a sore spot for the woman Harriett had become.
While Jo and Nessa chatted, Harriett couldn’t seem to sit still. She had quickly drained most of the first bottle of champagne by herself, but she didn’t appear to be drunk. She walked among the plants in her garden like a general inspecting her troops, stopping to sniff at a leaf here, judge the plumpness of a berry there. The silver in her hair had overtaken the blond, and it reflected the moon’s shimmering light.
“So what does Art think?” Nessa asked Jo. “He must be proud.”
“Oh, definitely.” Jo beamed. “Doesn’t hurt that he got some good news of his own today. His latest play is being produced! He met with the investors this morning.”
“That’s wonderful! I’m so glad things are turning around for you. I was starting to wonder if we’d all been cursed.” Nessa’s good cheer faded as she reached up to massage her temples. She was sure her brain was about to burst out of her skull.