Page 49 of Brassy Bigwig

“No, no plans. But yes, I could eat.”

“Okay, I’ll order something in for us.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

“This is one of the best Greek salads I think I’ve ever had,” Chloe insists. “Although, to you I suppose it’s just called salad.” Her laugh is infectious.

She’s sitting on the sofa in my office, next to me. Close enough for me to smell her intoxicating perfume but still just out of reach.

“You haven’t had my mom’s salad. I don’t even have to taste yours to know hers is better.”

Our food got here a little while ago, and we’ve been enjoying one another’s company in my office while eating.

“Well, next time I’m in Miami, I’ll have to look them up.”

“Or I can just take you there,” I suggest.

She doesn’t answer but offers me a smile between two flushed cheeks.

“So tell me more about your brother,” she requests.

“Well, Egan is five years younger than me. He owns a successful real-estate company in Miami.”

“You said you were close growing up, right?” she asks.

“Yeah. I think the age difference helped. But we’ve always been best friends.”

“That’s awesome. I always thought it would be fun to have a sister, but that never happened. I love my brother, though.”

“Family is really important. I don’t know what I would do without mine. Actually, Egan almost died when he was ten.”

If I want to get to know Chloe better, I need to offer up some of my own history.

“Oh my god, that’s terrible. What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Of course not,” I offer her a smile. I place my to-go box on the table in front of us before turning to face her. “He collapsed playing basketball one day. He was rushed to the hospital, and the doctor found a heart murmur. The surgery for that, way back then, was very invasive and really expensive. Egan needed it desperately, but my family didn’t have the money.”

“How awful.” She looks genuinely upset about my past situation, and I can feel empathy rolling off of her. “So what happened?”

“My mom and dad told the doctor to go ahead with it, and we would deal with the bills somehow. My parents got our family through it, but not without a lot of sacrifice. That’s actually what made me go into business for myself. I knew I wanted to make a lot of money so I, and my family, never had to go without or worry about finances ever again.”

“That’s incredible. I’m so glad it all worked out for Egan. And for you. I went to Wharton because I want to start my own business one day.”

“What do you want to do?” I prompt.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid,” she responds, putting her own food down now.

“I would never think that about you.”

“Honestly? I don’t know what I want to do. It’s a weird feeling. I want to be someone, I want to make a difference, but I don’t know how or what.”

“That’s not stupid. You just haven’t found your niche yet. I lucked out and found mine at a young age, but that’s not usual. Don’t let not knowing stand in your way of pursuing your dream. I mean, Henry Ford was forty-five when he created the Model T. Julia Child was fifty when she published her first cookbook.”

The smile that spreads across her face is the one I’ve pictured in my mind over and over again for the past month.

“There it is,” I tell her.

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