Chapter Twelve
Manny had been looking forward to his meeting with Petra that Monday morning. He needed a way to occupy himself while Cassie did her investigation in the city, and focusing on the renovation seemed like the best possible distraction.
Unusually, Petra was late.
By the time half an hour had gone by with no word, Manny was seriously concerned. He took his phone to one of the better reception spots and checked it. There was a terse “on my way” text from five minutes ago, which meant Petra was going to be nearly an hour late.
So he was already braced for bad news when she drove up in her cherry red Prius and hurried across to him, her face grim.
“I’m sorry, Manny,” was the first thing she said.
“Just tell me.”
“I went to put the order in for the steel girders you’ll need, and our supplier informed me they were raising their prices, as of today.”
He flinched, and Petra scowled. “I tried to check in with another vendor, and they said they couldn’t help me. Then I started calling around to check on the other materials—that’s why I’m late—and it turns out a lot of suppliers are raising their prices today.”
“It’s April,” Manny said, feeling dazed. “The financial year—I should have guessed.”
Petra was looking murderous. “But they shouldn’t all be doing it at the same time, across the same materials. I think there’s been some collusion on prices, and that means there’s probably a massive antitrust suit coming from the big construction companies—but that doesn’t help us, or you.”
“What’s the increase?”
“Across your budget? 12.4 percent.”
“Shit,” Manny said. “I budgeted a twenty percent blow-out, but if a chunk of that is already taken by material increases…”
Petra grimaced. “Twenty percent should have been plenty. We’ve got a solid long-term crew, so we don’t deal with much in the way of labor shortages or new hiring costs. I can usually keep blowout down around twelve percent, the best you’ll find anywhere around here. But that puts you at just under a twenty-five percent increase on project costs. And I can’t guarantee material prices won’t increase again.”
They shared a look of complete understanding.
“I’m fucked,” Manny said.
“Can you talk to the bank?” Petra asked intently. “Simon dragging his feet on the loan agreement delayed you long enough for that price change to kick in.”
“I’d like to wring his neck, but no, I don’t think Midas will take that into account. They were pretty clear there was nothing else there for me.”
“Another bank?”
“Maybe.” Manny scrubbed at his face. “Shit. Sorry, Petra, I have to think about this. Run some numbers.”
Sympathy looked strange on Petra’s sharp features, but she clearly meant it. “We can refund your deposit. Or hold it in escrow while you come up with solutions. Maybe you could try for a more low-budget refurbishment?”
“There are plenty of low-budget places in town,” Manny said. “I’m aiming for a specific demographic, and they won’t be happy with anything that looks economical. But I’ll take another look at the plans.”
Petra nodded. “Okay. Well, let me know.” For the first time, she took a look at the carriage house exterior, at the sturdy walls and dark wooden windowsills. “What a shame. It would have been amazing.”
“That it would,” Manny said. He saw Petra off and went back to his office, mind grinding on the problem. What could he do to save the dream?
The drive into the city hadn’t been too bad, except that it left Cassie with far too much time to think. She parked in the visitor’s spot at Argos Academy and tried to pull herself together.
At least she looked like someone who knew what she was doing. She’d taken some care with her hair and makeup this morning, and deliberately gone for a more formal look. Her blazer and skirt weren’t a matched set, but they at least suggested a suit, and she’d ditched her comfortable snow boots for the dark tights and T-bar heels again.
She checked her lipstick, smoothed a couple of flyaways, and walked into the school reception as if she had every right to be there.
“Hello,” she said, leveling her best professional smile at the receptionist. “I’m researching some Argos Academy alumni for a story about the school’s history, and I’m hoping you can help me.”
Ten minutes later, she was tucked into a back room in the school library with decades of yearbooks and a cup of coffee the receptionist had eagerly brought in for her. Sure, she’d lied just a tiny bit, but her press credentials were real, and who knew, she might actually turn some of this into the puff piece she was hinting at.
She found what she was looking for almost immediately. Chris Ipith smiled up at her from multiple pages in the 1972 yearbook. He’d won several science prizes that year and played soccer in what appeared to be a non-competitive but truly adorable junior team. She went back through the years, and found that he’d been enrolled in the school from kindergarten on. Perry Pelopson might not have openly acknowledged his son, but he hadn’t skimped on his education. She jumped forward, looking for the spiel about his next steps in the senior yearbook. If she could get a college, that would make her search even easier.
He wasn’t listed among the graduating students.
Cassie frowned, and went back to the yearbook of his junior year, and Chris’s face sprang out at her among the head shots. With the loss of his rounded features and baby fat, he had a much stronger resemblance to those old photos of Theo and Arthur. Perry wouldn’t have risked inviting him to the lake again, where comparisons could have been drawn between his boys.
She opened the senior yearbook again, this time skimming through the photos. He was there in a few of them, carefully measuring something into a beaker, playing chess with a bespectacled freshman, sitting in the quad beside a dreamy-eyed dark-haired girl. They were gazing at each other with the intensity of the truly besotted. There was no caption for that photo, but Cassie found the girl again in the sports team photos, neat and pretty in her field hockey uniform, her hair parted neatly in the middle and ironed straight. She was identified as Julia Simmonds.
Cassie flipped to the list of senior graduates again. Julia Simmonds wasn’t there.
“Oh, hell,” she said softly, staring at dreamy Julia and bright-eyed Chris. “Tell me you didn’t.”
She took photos of the relevant pages, skimmed through the rest of the yearbooks to make sure there wasn’t anything else there, and delivered the coffee mug back to the receptionist.
“The headmistress is in a meeting with the International Institute of Academies, but she said she could slot you in for an interview later tomorrow,” the receptionist said helpfully.
“Thank you, I’ll check my schedule,” Cassie said, because there was no point in turning down a potential lead. And because if she decided against dating Manny, she might have to quit her job to stick to it, and a few extra freelance pieces wouldn’t be a bad idea.
The receptionist beamed. “Did you find everything you need?”
“I’ve made a good start,” Cassie said, feeling just a little ashamed of herself. “Could I call you if I think of anything I might have missed?” She was hoping that she could track Chris down without having to ask for anything obviously suspicious, like, oh, his current address, but if she had to, this very friendly woman would be a great place to start.
“Absolutely!” the woman said, and Cassie thanked her for the help and the coffee, marched down the granite steps, and found herself caught in the chaos of the school run pick-up. One of the long-legged girls floating effortlessly out of the gates looked familiar, and after a moment Cassie placed her as Leia Graham, the kid Hera Rheczack and her partner had adopted. Laodice had talked about the romance of Hera and Don Kronion for a solid week after the Winter Ball, until Xena and Cassie had declared a group chat veto on the topic.
Actually, there was a thought. As she waited for the shiny SUVs and town cars to clear out, she tapped Laodice a quick message.
[Cassie] You in the office?
[Laodice] yes?
[Cassie] Can I drop in? Got a couple of research questions.
[Laodice] Sure!! We still on for tonight?
[Cassie] Yes, unless you want me to get a hotel?
[Laodice] don’t be dumb
Okay, then. She pulled out cautiously into traffic and made her way downtown to the monument of glass and steel that was Olympus Publishing.
Cassie’s freelance credentials were enough to get her past the security guards and into the elevators, but she had to wait for Laodice at the reception of the floor dedicated to the Bridal section of Olympus. Cassie was lucky this receptionist hadn’t been at Argos—she’d never have gotten yearbook access from this sharp young woman, who kept an eye on Cassie the whole time she was waiting, presumably in case she tried to pluck flowers from the orchid arrangement on the coffee table, or run away with the display copies of Goddess and Bliss.
Fortunately, Laodice hurried up in a few minutes. She was looking particularly bridal herself, wearing a long, fluttery pink dress with dramatic, full sleeves and lace detailing at the neck. Her long, dark hair was up in a loose French twist, her makeup was fresh and dewy, and her wide smile for her sister was extremely welcome.
“You look gorgeous,” Cassie said, and hugged her.
“So do you!” Laodice said, and held her out at arms length to survey her outfit. “Very professional. Love those T-bars! They’re kind of naughty librarian.”
“I was a little naughty in a library today,” Cassie confessed, and Laodice led her past the suddenly-interested receptionist and down the labyrinthine halls of Bridal to the office she shared with the other writers. It was largely empty, except for a dark-haired man typing steadily at a desktop computer, who didn’t even look up when they came in. Laodice ignored him just as thoroughly and sat Cassie down by her own desk.
“Have you seen Xena’s new video?” she asked.
“No, I’ve been driving or working all day.”
Laodice cackled. The man’s shoulders shifted, a flicker of irritation passing across his face.
“It’s on breast checks,” she said, and clicked to a tab on her laptop. The vertical window sprang to life. Polyxena was mid-sentence, wearing a sports bra and bike shorts, arm in the air to expose her neon-green pit hair.
“—really got to get into the armpit, because those lymph nodes are a danger zone,” she said, pressing enthusiastically. “Okay! No bumps or lumps there! Now, I can’t demonstrate the visual examination, because apparently cis female nipples are lewd content and against the app rules, but weirdly! Cis male nipples are fine! So here’s a handy cis male, my brother Iulus—”
“Oh no,” Cassie said, as the camera tilted to show a shirtless Iulus, grinning bashfully at the camera under his mop of tangled reddish curls.
“Oh yes,” Laodice said, as Xena pointed at Iulus’s chest and talked about the importance of noticing any discharge, dimpling, scaly skin, or unusual nipple inversion. “Mom’s going to have a meltdown.”
“Male breast cancer is often delayed in diagnosis,” the man in the corner said suddenly, without looking up from his computer.
“Um, did anyone say it wasn’t?” Laodice said.
“I’m saying that however hilarious you find him, your brother might well be saving a life.”
“We’re not laughing at Iulus,” Laodice snapped. “Mind your own business, Telfer.”
The man muttered something and went back to typing. Cassie blinked at her sister, who returned to her usual sunny tones without skipping a beat. “Anyway, I’m guessing Mom hasn’t seen this yet, because I don’t have any missed calls, but I’m just waiting for my phone to blow up.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” Cassie said, as Xena finished drawing helpful arrows on Iulus’s chest with a Sharpie and slung her arm over his shoulder.
She grinned at the camera, her expensive dentistry gleaming in the ring light. “Thanks for helping out, Iulus, and everybody, don’t forget to check your breasts! XO, Xena!”
The video looped back to the beginning and Laodice clicked it off. “Can you believe she earns more than both of us put together?” Despite the words, she sounded proud.
“Oh, easily ten times that,” Cassie said. “This has only been up for a couple of hours, right? Look at that engagement. I bet that sports bra is sold out already.”
Laodice sighed enviously. “I wish we could get those kinds of numbers for Goddess.”
The man in the corner—Telfer—had turned around and was looking thoughtful. “Would your sister be interested in a collaboration with Olympus?” he asked. “We could draw in more wedding vendor advertising dollars if we offered access to influencers they might not otherwise be able to target.”
Cassie laughed. “Maybe? I mean, Xena’s been dating the same guy for two years, but she’s not exactly the fairytale romance type.”
“Unusual young women get married too,” Telfer said crisply. “And they’re less likely to pick up a bridal magazine at a newsstand.”
“Unusual?”Laodice demanded, but Telfer was already on his feet and heading for the door, pausing only to sling his Italian suit jacket around his shoulders. “Ugh, I’m sorry. That guy only thinks about the bottom line.”
“Where is everyone today?” Cassie asked. The last time she’d visited Laodice at work, the office had been bustling.
“It’s Bridal Week,” Laodice said. “Everyone who can write 50 words about a gown is at the shows, filing their stories in the cab to the next one. Telfer and I are supposed to be holding down the fort while designers and vendors suck up to our editor in person. But of course everybody who’s anybody in the bridal world is also at the shows, so there’s not much to do here except proof and edit the copy and throw it on our digital channels as it comes in. Okay. Tell me about Manny.”
“That might be over,” Cassie said, and got up to close the office door.
“Ooh, secrets,” Laodice said, and then listened intently as Cassie told her the story of Helen and Ask Cassandra, and the messy, messy consequences of Manny’s very short marriage.
“Well, that sounds like Paris,” Laodice said.
Cassie blinked. “Wait, really?”
“Yes? Paris, our selfish cousin who only ever talks about herself and what she cares about?”
“I’ve never thought of Paris as selfish.”
“That’s because you’re her favorite,” Laodice said, with no bitterness. “I don’t think she’s ever asked me a question about my life that went any deeper than ‘how are you?’ Forget it. I don’t see why Paris and Helen should come between you and the man you love. And so what if he asked you for advice without knowing it was you? Sounds like you gave him the right advice.”
“Oh, so now I love him?” Cassie said. “And you’ve just decided that for me?”
Laodice waved at the office, which was decorated in pale pink and cream. Framed portraits of women in wedding gowns covered an entire wall. On Telfer’s desk were glossy brochures advertising wedding expos, caterers, planners, and a dozen other services. Beneath the next desk was a collection of bejeweled tiaras, haphazardly sticking out of a plastic tub. “You can’t deny I’m an expert.”
“Really? How did things go with that barista?”
Laodice’s eyes narrowed. “He wasn’t the one. But Manny could be your one. I have a good feeling about him.”
“I think you might be biased,” Cassie said, looking around the office again. “You spend all day thinking about weddings and writing about weddings, and then in the weekends you go to other people’s weddings and write profiles about them. You’re predisposed to believe in happy endings.”
“Cassie, please,” Laodice said. “Half the couples I write about aren’t going to make it. Twenty-two percent of first marriages end in divorce within five years. Manny’s first marriage ended in six hours. I believe in unhappy endings too.” She rolled her eyes at Cassie’s surprise. “I’m not stupid.”
“I’ve never thought you were stupid,” Cassie said, stung.
“No, just way too romantic and silly. Obsessed with love, that’s what you and Xena say.”
“We don’t want you to get hurt,” Cassie said weakly.
“I’m afraid that’s inevitable, when you’re looking for love,” Laodice said. “Love is painful. And magnificent and consuming and… It’s wonderful, Cassie. Of course I’m obsessed with it. I love being in love. And, sure, it hurts when it ends, it hurts when a guy is like, you’re too much, I don’t feel the same way, I have to go. But chances are, one day, it won’t end. One day, I’ll find someone who thinks I am wonderful.”
“You are wonderful.”
“I know! That’s my point! All the guys I’ve loved so far—they weren’t right. But how would I know they weren’t right if I didn’t try? And it hurts, but that’s okay, because one day, I will love the right guy. That’s worth a few aches and pains. I worry about you, because you don’t take the risk of getting hurt. Do you love Manny?”
“I don’t know,” Cassie said. “I like him a lot and the thought of leaving already hurts like hell. I was already thinking about how we could negotiate something long distance”
Laodice looked satisfied. “And the sex?”
“Oh, incredible. Sometimes, in the middle of sex, I think I love him. And then I come out of it and I’m like, Cassie, that’s just the oxytocin speaking. Simultaneous orgasms are not true love.”
“Simultaneous orgasms? Really?”
Cassie grinned. “Nearly every time.”
“Wow,” Laodice said. “Does he have a brother?”
“Yes, but he’s married, and kind of a dick.” She gave Laodice a stern look. “Also, I cannot underline how much I do not need further family entanglement in this mess.”
Laodice laughed again, her unrestrained cackle ringing out as Telfer re-entered the office, looking triumphant. “I got five minutes with Hera and she gave me the go-ahead,” he announced.
Laodice frowned at him. “On what?”
“On the influencer advertising integration. Pending Miriam’s approval, of course.”
“Did you put that together just now?” Laodice asked.
“Yes,” Telfer said, looking pleased with himself. “Hera’s asked me to prepare a proper proposal and present to her and Miriam next week.”
Laodice folded her arms. “So you’re just going to leave all the Bridal Week office work to me?”
Telfer looked around the empty office, then pointedly at Cassie, clearly there for non-Bridal Week purposes. “I guess I am,” he said. “Have fun.”
“Unbelievable,” Laodice muttered and sat upright as notifications started flooding her laptop screen. “Oh, damn. Cassie, I have to get to this now. Naeem Khan is doing something exciting with feathers.”
“I actually need to do some research,” Cassie said quickly. “I was hoping I could get your login access to Archives.” Laodice was already typing, her tongue stuck between her teeth, and if she got really intent she wouldn’t even be able to hear Cassie.
“Sure, use my desktop,” Laodice said absently, and before Cassie could say that she really meant that she wanted to ask Laodice the questions and Laodice could search up the answers, which felt much less ethically dicey, Laodice had swung around, typed in her password, opened the Archives database search engine, and shoved the keyboard in Cassie’s direction.
“Um, okay,” Cassie said, staring at one of the best media databases in the world, with digitized records of Olympus Publications going back nearly a hundred years. Even better, she now had access to even more search engines, including the Municipal Office Births, Marriages and Deaths Registry.
From across the room, Telfer swung around in his chair to look at them, looking dubious.
“I’m a freelancer,” Cassie told him, and he made a doubtful noise, but went back to his computer. Laodice hadn’t noticed the byplay. She was scrolling through runway pictures and descriptions of women in white gowns, with feathers trailing out at the end of enormous trains, or edging sleeves, or wrapped around the model’s shoulder in a fluttery stole.
“Thanks,” Cassie said.
“Mm,” Laodice said, and then made the satisfied sound that meant she’d spotted a rogue semi-colon.
Cassie had already tried “Chris Ipith” on normal search engines, and despite the unusual surname, nothing had come up. “Julia Simmonds,” on the other hand, was too common. She’d found dozens of social media profiles and websites, and while she could go through them one by one—and would if she had to—she was hoping to jump around that obstacle. For that, she needed serious research power.
And now, she had it.
She crackled her knuckles, and got started.
Sometime later, Laodice put her hand on her shoulder. “Cassie,” she was saying. “Cassie, did you hear me?”
“What?” Cassie said, and blinked back to reality. The office was lit by bright fluorescents now, the city lights glimmering in the twilight. The notebook she’d brought with her was half full of scribbles she didn’t even remember making. Telfer was still there, hunched over his computer, but now a hand-scribbled diagram with arrows and boxes was tacked above his desk, and he was scrolling through his phone with earbuds in, stopping every now and then to take a note. “What time is it?”
“Time to go home,” Laodice said cheerfully. “Although we should stop for takeout first, I don’t have a thing in the fridge. Unless you want to take your chances with last week’s fried rice?”
“No, thank you,” Cassie said. Her mouth was dry. There was a half-drunk coffee in a paper cup beside her. She vaguely recalled Laodice setting it down some time ago.
Laodice frowned at her. “Are you okay? You look like someone died.”
“Someone did,” Cassie said. She lifted her glasses and wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay tonight after all. I have to go back to Tantalus.”