When she got to the lobby, Hugh and a few others had beaten her. She was only five minutes early.
Hugh whistled. “Nice pearls.”
She picked up a corner hem of her skirt and curtsied. “Thank you.”
Hugh asked, “How old are you again?”
“You know how old I am. I am much, much, much younger than you.” She laughed. They were less than a dozen years apart, but it was a running joke that she was jailbait as far as he was concerned.
The others paid them no mind. Kevin Jennings nodded at her briefly as though he approved but would never admit that he was pleased to see her. He was a grumpy person, and by this time, Casey realized that he possessed a fine character despite his refusal to be affable on a consistent basis. Kevin and Walter talked with Seamus Donnelly, who’d finally arrived. He was a top-tier client—perhaps the most important client there—and accordingly, he received the attention he was due. Also, it should be said that Seamus was clever and amusing to talk to. Everyone would want to sit with him at dinner. As for his investment style, he was slightly more contrarian than either bull or bear—nearly impossible to predict. Walter said that in his experience, people who were independent-minded were the ones who had the potential to make serious cash and not just upper-yuppie money. Seamus Donnelly was crazy rich now, but he’d be the first to tell you that he was fifty-eight years old and his first two funds went under and that his kids had to go to state schools because he’d screwed up one too many calls.
Unu was disagreeing with Seamus about something, but they both looked pleased by the exchange. Something about manufacturing plants in Vietnam and Indonesia, Casey gathered. The crowd began to move toward the dining room, where they’d eat a steak dinner. She’d helped to plan the event, so she could recite the menu by heart. Unu was only a few paces ahead of her, wearing a white golf shirt, a pair of dress chinos, and a navy blazer. He wore a needlepoint belt with the Greek letters of his fraternity. The smells of soap, aftershave, and spray starch wafted about her. The group was mostly men—after a solid day of sun and sports, fresh from a shower, and dressed for dinner. It was like being back in college when she and her friends headed en masse to a spring formal on warm April evenings.
Unu broke away from Seamus, giving the others a crack at the great man in attendance. He waited to walk in with her.
“Hey,” Casey said. “Good game. I owe you some money. Can I send you a check when I get back to the city? There doesn’t seem to be a bank around the resort.”
“I wouldn’t have taken it from you, but Hugh’s already taken care of it for you.” Unu was pleased that she was talking to him at all. She didn’t seem upset anymore. The girl on the college golf team was back with her sass in gear. She had a natural smile that made her eyes crinkle up in a pretty way.
Casey looked around for Hugh, and when he caught her eye, he raised his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. “Thank you,” she mouthed to him. He made an okay signal with his hand.
“He didn’t have to do that,” she said.
“Something about how he owed you a shirt?”
She laughed out loud.
Unu wondered if Casey was seeing that guy, but he didn’t think so. Hugh seemed too old for her, but he did resemble the old boyfriend a bit. Hugh was a better-looking guy, however. Not married and, according to Walter and Kevin, quite the hound.
The event planner had put out the folded place cards on one round table. She and Unu were seated at Walter’s table. One broker was posted to each long banquet-hall-type table. Hugh was with Brett’s crowd and his own clients, and Kevin hosted the one with Seamus Donnelly and other top-tier clients.
Unu plopped down next to her as though it had been his intention all along. And right away, he asked her to pass the breadbasket. He plucked out two rolls and put them on his bread plate.
“I’m starved, aren’t you?” He tore into his sourdough roll and slathered two ribbed curls of butter on his broken piece. Walter sat on the other end of the long table and chatted comfortably with three portfolio managers. He was amazing at integrating several people into one discussion. Left alone, Unu and Casey chatted between themselves. It was fun to hear about Ella and Ted from someone else.
“He’s completely full of shit,” Unu remarked about Ted between bites of his bread. “But I love winding him up so he can start his canned speeches. I think I can recite them.”
“Please don’t.”
“He’s not good enough for my cousin Ella—”