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“We’ll see.”

“Let’s not.”

“We’ll see,” Raj said again.

“Suddenly you’re all sorts of trouble,” I said and threw open a window.

“Me?Gabby! The insult! I’m always on my best behavior...”

“Yes. And thirty people from a trolley opening would definitely agree.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Talia

Talia slid the piece of paper across the table. Dad cupped a hand around it to block out the sun. They sat on the patio outside his bedroom, beneath a bougainvillea-covered pergola. “What am I looking at?” he asked. On the paper were four cartoons: a list, a guy holding a bag of money, an apartment building, a map.

“It’s supposed to represent the main problems in the California housing market,” Talia said, gesturing to each picture with the tip of her pen.

An impossibly long waiting list, private equity (Dad already knew about that), a lack of multifamily dwellings, and exclusionary zoning laws. Was he aware? Most cities in the US were seventy-five percent or more zoned for single-family only, which was quite outrageous.

Dad bit into his sandwich. “And you’re telling me this with cartoons?” he said, his mouth half-full of chicken salad. “Were you concerned I wouldn’t grasp words?”

Talia flushed. “No, I was just keeping it simple.”

Raj had created the document, and she’d neglected to think it through. The cartoon was perhaps a misstep, but it was nice to have someone around who understood the concept of real problems and actually wanted to fix them, especially given how dismissive Spencer had been lately.Get a grip, Tal. Your dad isnot going to fix homelessness. The comment rankled. What washedoing to improve anyone’s life, aside from turning one pile of money into two? Such-and-such company should trade at ten times EBITDA, but why? Says who? They were all passing dollars around. Not actual cash. The concept of it. That man needed to get out of New York.

“Forget the cartoons,” Talia said to her father. “Flip to the next page. The details are there. Complete sentences and everything.”

Dad scanned the paper, his face devoid of expression.

“Admittedly, many of these suggestions are hyper-local,” Talia went on, “but we need to shore up local support before we go wider.” She paused, waiting for him to remind her that his name was on buildings and hospitals and marine biological institutes and why not rest his laurels on that. Name recognition was probably his platform all along, and he likely never stopped to consider whether people would make the connection, or if they’d care.

“Mayor Quinonez ran on fixing housing in San Diego,” Talia said and dipped her fork into a pot of vinaigrette. She stabbed a piece of lettuce. “An endorsement from him would be a game changer. San Diego issupermessed up... They’re not adhering to state rent caps.”

“Sounds bad. Someone should do something.”

Is this supposed to be funny?Talia wondered as she finished crunching her lettuce. She took a sip of Diet Coke before continuing. “Well, someone is,” she said. “There’s a whole lawsuit underway against the housing commission.” She told him about Raj, and his work with Black Men and Women United San Diego, the group preparing the lawsuit. They were filing it any day, and she’d contributed her well-honed research skills. “The commission keeps insisting they don’t need to comply with laws but—”

“I was joking,” Dad snapped, and Talia felt literally put in herplace. “Why are we even talking about this? I added the private equity thing on my website. End of discussion.”

Talia sighed and pushed her salad aside. “Dad. I’m just trying to help.”

“I know.” He leaned back, his chair squeaking beneath him. “How’s it going, Talia?” he asked, out of damned nowhere. “Are you happy, being here in California?”

Was Taliahappy? What kind of question was that? “Um. Sure,” she said, suddenly dizzy. “Are you?”

Her father chuckled dryly. “Sure,” he said, parroting her answer. “I am thrilled Ozzie finally made it. He brings a certain lightness, don’t you think?”

“He definitely brings something...”

“His presence reminds you to enjoy the good things in life. Did I tell you he took me to my old stomping grounds the other day?” he said, and launched into a convoluted tale about a high school he’d attended for two years, and how he and Ozzie went to visit and watch a women’s volleyball game. As he spoke, Talia prayed that no one cottoned to the fact a sixty-one-year-old man was watching teenage girls he didn’t know jump around in small shorts.

“Sounds like a memorable experience,” Talia grumbled. Volleyball. Meanwhile, some of them were trying to get this campaign out of the basement.

“One kid recognized Ozzie,” Dad went on. He stopped to wipe his lips, but a dollop of mayonnaise lingered. “The guy filmed us for his social media.”

“Oh, God,” Talia groaned. Someonedidcotton to it after all and she could only imagine how that looked. According to Ivan, it played well online and while Talia seriously doubted this, Dad hadn’t been immediately canceled, which was tremendous news.