Isaac put his hands on her shoulders. She had gotten skinnier, he thought, not in a good way, but as if she weren’t getting enough to eat.
“Young lady, did you know that we’re giving away a free lamb dinner tonight for the first person who walks in here with a FedEx box?” His eyes shone with amusement. This was his usual shtick, playing Monty Hall on Let’s Make a Deal. The first time she’d met him, he’d asked her in a serious voice, “Ma’am, if you have a Band-Aid in your purse, I’ll give you ten dollars.” It had taken her a moment to get that he was joking, but there was another time she’d dug out a safety pin from her cosmetics bag at his request, and he’d given her a fiver on the spot.
“Miss, why, of all the luck! Is that a FedEx package in your hand?”
“Yes, sir,” Casey said, keeping it straight.
“That’s too crazy! Because tonight we’re also giving away a panna cotta with chocolate sauce if you have a beautiful smile.”
Casey grinned, but in her mind she was still stumbling to find a way to say no to dinner without lying outright.
“Miss, do you have a hat?”
Casey nodded, raising her fedora to his eye level. She felt like a girl joking with her charming uncle.
“Well, tonight we’re trading one ladies’ hat for a pair of Italian-made shoes and a matching bag!”
She burst out laughing. “Now you’re talking.”
“Now, that’s a real Casey smile. You okay?”
“I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me.”
“Oh, I don’t worry about you, Casey Han. I don’t have to. You are good at doing what needs doing,” he said. Sometimes saying a thing could make it so.
Casey’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, I don’t know, Isaac.”
“But I know.” He nodded gravely, wanting her to believe him. Isaac regretted not having given his own children this kind of assurance while they were growing up when he’d been too busy chasing deals and skirts. He remembered being around Casey’s age, how the world appeared full of possible conquests. It saddened him to think of how his own children had no wish to fight, no larger desire to win. As though they had nothing to prove or could prove nothing even if they tried. Casey had so much fight in her, but she seemed always to want to fight it alone.
“So, where’s the boss?” Casey asked. She took a deep inhale.
“In her bedroom.”
“Oh yes, you said. She’s resting?”
“She’s awake. She wants to see you.”
“I could just leave this if she’s resting.” Casey held up the package.
“No, no. Don’t be silly. She asked for you to come in. She’d love to see you.”
“Oh.” Casey put her hat on the bench in the foyer. “Okay.”
“You know where, right?” Isaac pointed up the stairs. “Maybe you can get her to join us for dinner. She said I should give you dinner after she spoke to you. You’re staying?”
Casey nodded. This was how successful people got what they wanted, she thought. They just forced outcomes. She gave a small wave to Isaac and went up the stairs.
In college, she had known a boy named John Pringle whose engineer father owned some sort of chemical company. John’s dad, the son of a mechanic and a housecleaner and the youngest of six children, had attended Rochester Institute of Technology on full scholarship; and after making his first million dollars, he went on to make several hundred more. At a Cap & Gown party, John Pringle smoked a Dunhill’s blunt filled with high-quality grass, and he told Casey and Virginia that his two older half-brothers from his dad’s first marriage worked for the old man. John had made air quotes when he said the word worked. He also called his brothers Limp-dick I and Limp-dick II. His brothers laughed at their dad’s off-color jokes, said nothing when Dad talked too loudly at sporting events, and looked away when Dad habitually stuck his finger in the back of his mouth to clear the food stuck in his molars.
At the party, John was higher than the Empire State Building, and by that time, Casey and Virginia had dried up two bottles of Asti Spumante. Virginia had asked John, “So you”—her words were slurry, her pretty face flushed from the sparkling wine—“and what. . . what are you going to do with your life?” And John had replied, “I’m gonna fuck around as long as I can, and then take it up the ass like my brothers. Cut my hair, put on a suit, marry a Connecticut blonde with big tits who will bear the fruit of my loins. And I will carry Dad’s bags to the airport and laugh at his fart jokes.”