Chapter Five #3
He snuck out of the kitchen and back to his office. He assumed Flora would probably go wandering through the hills, as she always had, so he stationed one of the gardeners, Charles, outside to let him know the exact moment she did.
At twelve, he got the walkie.
Finn kept a walkie-talkie under his desk. He used it to communicate with the staff—usually to avoid someone who was visiting—but today it was being used for true spy purposes.
“Mr. Woodhouse. She just went through the gate.”
“Got it. Thank you.”
He ran into Charles while putting a hat on.
“Do I look like I hike?” he asked, hurriedly.
“You look like you might go outside sometimes.”
“And that’s about the best I can do.”
He rounded the side of the house, hopped the south gate, getting his shoes dirty, and planned to cut her off on the path she always took. He knew this because he used to walk it all the time before things got out of hand at work.
His plan worked perfectly. He stumbled upon her while she was bent over a cluster of poppies, a book of pressed flowers in her hand. She was clearly startled to see him there.
“Oh, Finn,” she said, standing up. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. What are you doing out here?”
“I, uh, I enjoy a walk as much as I can when I have the time,” he said, folding his prop of a book.
“What book is that?” she asked.
“Photography for beginners,” he said, turning it over. “I’m trying to learn. We’re putting a house that we own out in Carmel on the market, and we need someone to take photos. I’ve been trying to learn so I can do it, but I’m a hopeless case.”
“Oh…” she said, fiddling with the camera around her neck, not offering anything. “How’s Roman?”
“He’s good. Doctor says he’ll be fine. He’s on a lot of pain meds.”
“A lot” was the understatement of the year.
The amount of pain medication Roman was on might have been considered criminally negligent.
Finn had called Doctor Freedman and told him how much Roman hates pain, how much he feared it, which wasn’t entirely the truth, but enough to fool Doctor Freedman into prescribing something much stronger than was needed.
Roman was now in a deep stupor of pain medication that Finn hoped would keep him from breaking off his engagement for now.
Finn had also taken Roman’s phone away from him.
Ethical? No. Needed to save the merger? Yes.
“You don’t need this. Right, Roman?”
He’d asked this at the hospital, holding Roman’s phone up.
“I saw Percival Pennyworth.”
“Who?”
“Percival Mr. Penny in Peter Rabbit on Elmo.”
“Sure. Whatever.”
He pocketed the phone and moved on.
Any time he could buy was useful in his opinion. And if time had to be bought through medication to keep him from a fully functioning brain, and a stolen phone to keep him from texting Jane, then so be it. The accident, in Finn’s opinion, had been somewhat of a blessing.
“Is he home yet?” Flora asked now.
“Should be this afternoon. Are you walking this way?” he asked, gesturing to the path.
Flora had never wanted to share a walk with Finn but was going to have to.
She adjusted her mindset to endure it. She had no idea what he talked about when he wasn’t spitting business jargon or jousting with his mother over how much time she spent at the spa, but she couldn’t imagine it was too interesting.
It was silent for a moment. The hills were still green from a strange blip of May rain, and the day was bright and clear.
It would be a nice walk… alone or with anybody else other than Finn, Flora thought.
“So, photography?” she asked, strained and already stretched thin for conversation topics.
“Yes. I’ve always wanted to get better at it, but I’m just horrible.”
“It takes some time,” she replied, wondering why in the world he even cared about photography. “But time you do not and have never had, so it seems.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn more about… I don’t know… art, history, science, but business is my life, and it has been since I was twenty-two.”
“How old are you now again?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“I forget you’re only five years older than me. You always acted so much older. We were born in the same decade. You lived through the same horrible fashion I did.”
“You mean you weren’t a fan of low-rise jeans?” he asked dryly.
Flora laughed, shocked he’d cracked a joke. “I was not a fan. But then again, I didn’t dress so well myself, so my opinion means nothing.”
“Yes, you look quite a bit different,” Finn replied, eyes flicking to her hair discreetly.
Flora wasn’t sure if this was a compliment or a slight.
“Are you ever going to make time to pursue your passions?” she asked.
Finn shrugged. “Probably not.”
Flora wondered what it was like to be the CEO of a multi-trillion-dollar company at twenty-nine. She couldn’t imagine it. Finn had no signs of wear and tear though and seemed rather at ease…
Outside of the fact that he wasn’t dressed for a hike. He was wearing a pair of suede burgundy boots, black trousers, beautiful button up dress shirt, puffer vest, and a Pebble Beach Golf Club hat. He looked nice, as he always did, just not suited for a walk.
“So, you’re still taking photos?” he asked.
Flora cleared her throat, hoping this was not going where she thought it was. “I am.”
“How much do you charge?” he asked.
“I don’t,” she replied. “It’s a passion not a profession. Yet.”