“It wouldn’t have been an issue if you’d turned your computer off. You need to learn to conserve energy.”
“Conserve energy? Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me? You invade my privacy, and you want to lecture me about the battery power of my laptop?” Right before she’d gone to Florida, Mom had joked, “When you go to college, you’ll escape. I’ll still have to deal with him.” Why couldn’t it be Dad in the hospital?
“So we’re not good, then?”
“No. We’re not,” Harry said. “We’re far from good. Intergalactic far. And I think it’s your turn to apologize for once. I’m going outside to shoot hoops. And then I’m going to change all my passwords. Stay out of my room. In fact, just stay out of my life.”
Dad muttered something, but at least two words were crystal clear: “With pleasure.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Three hours of sleep did not make for a functional investment banker. Felix had achieved nothing in the last hour. Not so much as a doodle.
Yes, he was still miffed that he’d been cornered into an apology. It was hardly his fault that Harry had failed to shut down his ruddy computer, but as the parent, he had crossed a moral line, which was beyond reprehensible. Why had he not kept his mouth shut? Clearly, being a full-time father brought out the worst in him. Going for the jugular had been a deliberate move. Harry had accepted his apology, but their détente was, at best, shaky. From now on, however, he would imagine an electric fence around the nuclear wasteland that was Harry’s room. Harry didn’t want him inside? Fine.
Felix laced his fingers behind his neck. Damn, he was overdue for a haircut on top of everything else. He stared up at his office ceiling—the same pale gray as the walls, a shade lighter than the carpet, and two shades lighter than the desk. He was cornered in a monochromic world devoid of pictures, photographs, and cute desktop gadgets. He had chosen to not clutter his work space with the personal, and he’d never questioned his office décor until today.
Piles of paper lay everywhere—on the floor, on the table, on the desk—but the room was blank. How many hours had he spent alone in this space with the angular wall of glass that magnified the intensity of the afternoon sun?
The hands of the black-and-white clock on the wall opposite inched toward twelve thirty. Robert, as predictable in his adultery as he was in all areas of his life, would be out with the mistress until at least two. One partner should always remain in the office during market hours, but that theory was based on the assumption that the partner was present in mind as well as body. If a client called, Felix would be useless. He texted Katherine.
Free for a quick coffee?
Sure. I’m doing research at Duke today. Somewhere close?
How much research could a bodice ripper require?
Scratch. The bakery on Orange Street. You know it?
Be there in ten.
Felix buzzed the front office, and within seconds Nora Mae stuck her head round the door. Until Ella’s heart attack, he’d found the office administrator’s daily attempts at pleasantries to be an irritant, although listening to her ramble on had always given him a chance to contemplate the many cacti lined up on her desk. Their needles screamed Don’t touch, but the bright desert blooms seemed to say, Oh, give it a go.
“I need to pop out for about forty-five minutes. Something related to Ella. Can you cover for me?”