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Talia studied him as he spoke, and maybe Ustenya was onto something, because he did suddenly seem like a much older man than the one she’d seen two weeks ago in New York. His skin was sallow, and his scalp was now visible beneath his salt-and-pepper hair.

“What about you?” Dad said, turning his attentions to Talia. “What have you been up to? Hopefully you have some good news.”

Talia cleared her throat, then took a sip of wine to give herself a moment to think. “Well, let’s see. I installed the new supporter management software.” God, she was really milking that one. “I’ve also spent some time poking around in the database to get a sense of demographics.”

They’d started phone-banking—the team had very high daily targets!—and now that he was back in town, Talia was aiming for three to five meet-the-candidate events. Maybe he could do some canvassing with them next weekend? Door-knocking sounded inefficient, but it was still the best way to get people to the polls. According to Google, anyway.

“You’re doing a great job,” Ustenya said. She winked, gave a thumbs-up.

“Oh. Thanks.” Talia flushed. It was the second, maybe third compliment she’d ever received from Ustenya.

“You see?” Ustenya said to Dad. “I told you she could do it.”

“Someone thought I couldn’t?”

“Come on.” Ustenya popped to her feet. “Dinner should be ready.”

Dad stood with a groan, and Talia followed, still stung by the comment and wondering when somebody was going to mention Gabby. Anemergency situation. With afriend. How did she already have a friend in San Diego? Where was she always getting these people?

“What was Mindy saying earlier?” Dad said as they walked into the house. “About poop in the HQ?”

Every feature on Ustenya’s face pinched together. “It’s the damned jippo. Why did I let you talk me into that thing?”

“It wasn’t the Jindo,” Talia said. “Mindy captured a monkey, but we’re not sure where it went.”

Dad peered over his shoulder. “You lost amonkey?”

“I didn’t lose it. I was barely involved.”

“That sounds like an issue.”

Talia’s face burned. “It probably belongs to a neighbor,” she said. “Everyone around here is sitting on multiple acres. Someone must have an exotic pet or two.”

A thought struck Talia. Was this a Gabby thing? God, she hoped not. They had enough problems without a bunch of birds or reptiles showing up. Maybe it was good Gabby was off with her friend. She wasn’t Ozzie. She wasn’t blowing things up or burning them down. But Gabby had a knack for creating a special brand of chaos, the kind that made you question yourself and everything you’d just seen.

Chapter Twenty-One

Gabby

It was past ten o’clock, but I could see the light peeking out from beneath Talia’s door. I knocked lightly and asked if she had a minute.

“Sure. Come in,” she said, and I walked in to find her on the bed, sitting with one leg bent, the other draped over the side. A laptop was open in front of her.

“Ustenya has such interesting taste,” I said, taking in the room. Talia’s looked like mine: same ornate dark wood furniture, same white comforter, same seven pillows on the bed. “What would you call that style of headboard? It’s very torture-chamber. Very world-without-joy.”

Talia let a smirk slip out, and I was glad for the crack in the tension between us. I’d made it to dinner, but arrived late, leaving her to hold things down for an hour when the vibes were demonstrably terrible. Dad was cranky as hell, and Ustenya was dialed up to eleven, as if doing an impression of herself.

“Italian Renaissance Revival,” Talia said, about the furniture. “Bulky. Dark. Architectural appeal trumps domestic utility.”

“Totally,” I said. “Anyway. Again. I’m sorry for my tardiness.”

“You made it. That’s what counts,” she said unconvincingly as she typed something into her computer. “How’s your friend? Will she survive whatever catastrophe you pulled her from the brink of?”

“Oh. Yeah. He lost his job. Tough break.” I winced, realizing how dickish it was to use Raj’s problems to cover my own ass. “But he’ll be fine, eventually...”

“He?” Talia straightened all the way up. “Is this a boyfriend?”

“God, no. Just a friend,” I said.