“It was selfish of you to say that. And grandiose.” He laughed and looked up at the bright sky.
“I’m going to go now. I promised. . .” Casey rubbed her arms as if she were cold.
“Ivy?” he asked.
“Yup. Terrace?” she asked.
“Yup.”
Jay opened his arms, and Casey hugged him.
“You want to come to the wedding?” he asked.
“No. But thank you. You always had a better nature than me. That hasn’t changed.”
Casey returned to Virginia, who had noticed them talking. She broke away from the guy, Hank Loehman, she’d been chatting with. He was not that interesting after all. She hugged Casey tight and kissed her on the cheek, and Casey smiled at her. Virginia could do things like that. No one else ever did. She loved you without holding back. Later, Casey would tell her everything, but for now they walked off Poe Field together, arms linked like schoolgirls, heading toward Prospect Avenue.
8 RETURN
PERHAPS IT WAS PREMATURE TO SAY, but Casey believed that she hated Karyn Glissam and Larry Chirtle, the senior associates who barraged her with assignments. In the past three weeks, on top of the demands of other senior associates, Karyn and Larry had asked Casey to locate the number of tractors in the southern region of China, make up a spreadsheet comparing that number against the number of tractors in Brazil in 1996, and calculate the GDP relationship among Peru, Ecuador, and Honduras relating to canned fruit exports. She had compiled data on soft drink production in India as well as oil wells in Alaska. She had become their go-to girl, because she got the job done, but unlike the brokers at the Asia sales desk, Karyn and Larry, the investment bankers, never said thank you or please. They never asked how she was doing. She told herself to focus on nailing the offer and that niceties shouldn’t matter, but they did. They mattered more to Casey than they should have. Maybe what she felt wasn’t hatred really, but contempt.
All twenty-one of the interns were housed in a corridorlike office tracked with parallel rows of rolltop desks, and Casey occupied the third desk in from the windowed wall. On the Thursday morning Casey had a visitor, her desk was trashed with research papers, reference books, government pamphlets of consumer data, and charts of LIBOR and the Fed funds rate. Casey had a book to make up for Karyn due that afternoon, and she was finishing up her index. She was now checking to see if she had organized the last two sections properly when she heard the rap against her desk.
“Hello there.”
It was only Hugh.
“God, this is just appalling how they have all these nice young people locked up this way.” Hugh Underhill scrutinized the room, and the other interns smiled at him, not knowing who he was. They goggled at the good-looking man, his arms crossed against his broad chest, his face expressing a mock dismay. He was far too relaxed not to be someone important. The interns had no clue as to who’d factor into their futures, so they had no choice but to always be on their best behavior. “And it’s a gorgeous day outside. Shouldn’t these children be playing in the sunshine? Instead of. . .” Hugh picked up a pamphlet on her desk and flipped through the charts, turning them upside down and right side up. He pretended to gag.
“Oh, it’s you,” Casey said. “Do they let brokers up on six? You know, there are no four-star restaurants here or wine bars.” She suppressed a smile.
His eyebrows lifted knowingly, and he raised his hand. She slapped him a high five. They both laughed.
“Hello, darling,” he said. His smile was headlights dazzling. Most of the interns were still staring at him, and he smiled at them graciously. “Do go back to your tasks, little ones.
“I need a favor, dear girl,” he whispered.
“Yes?” Casey eyed him coldly. “And how may I help you?”
“My, such a suspicious look for such a young girl. Hmm, then again, not that young.”
“Is this how you get people to grant you favors? I can’t imagine that it’s very effective.”
“Ah, yes. Casey, I need a fourth.”
“Pardon?”
“Crane Partners and Kellner Money Management. I’m taking them for a golf outing in Vermont for one of my idea roundtables, and I need a fourth. Walter has three already in his group, I have two, and Kevin is busy. You work for Kearn Davis, so why not? Everyone likes to see a girl golf. It’s an idea roundtable for new initiatives on—”
“A bullshit session?” Casey covered her mouth with her hand. “Oops, I mean, an idea roundtable?” She propped her chin in her hand, her elbow leaning on the desk. “You call yourself a worker?”