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“I’ll make sure she does,” I threaten.

“You won’t tell her,” he says it like it’s more of a wish than a statement. “Please don’t tell her.”

Seeing as how I don’t know who the hell Gloria is, and I have no interest in changing that, I step closer to him because the little kid’s big blue eyes are stuck on the two of us as this plays out a few feet from him. “You need to get yourself together before you see Gloria. That sweatshirt has a hole in it. Your jeans are dirty, and your shoes belong in a trashcan.”

He nods like he already knows this. “Gloria told me I’d never get a job if I don’t dress the part.”

“Gloria’s right.”

“She said she’d come home once I get my act together.” He drags a hand through his brown hair. “I need to do that.”

“Start now.” I pat the guy’s shoulder. “But first, clean up your mess, and I’m not just talking about the brochures.”

He glances to the left and the scattered papers on the floor. “Shit.”

“Language,” I warn with a wag of my finger in his direction. “There’s a child right there.”

The little boy holds up his hand. “That’s me. Words like that are bad. Santa won’t bring you anything if you talk like that.”

“You hear that.” I look at the face of the guy who loves Gloria. “Apologize to that lad and his mother for what you said.”

“I’m sorry.”

I give him a look. “Do better than that.”

He drops to one knee, so he’s almost level with the kid’s height. “I’m very sorry I yelled and said those words. That is never okay.”

The little boy tugs free of his mom’s hand to walk toward the guy on his knee. He rests a small hand on his shoulder. “Mommy tells me I need to count to ten when I feel mad. I do it. You should, too.”

“I will.” He smiles. “I’ll count to ten next time.”

The elevator dings, signaling an arrival from one of the upper floors, so I turn to look. I spot a man with graying hair in a good suit. I can only assume that’s Rupert based on the description he gave me over the phone this morning. His tight schedule left no time for research before this meeting, but Lola is handling that now. Her initial report should hit my email inbox any second.

“Are we all good here?” I ask the guy who has now picked up every brochure he tossed during his fit of frustration. “You’re going to do better and show Gloria you’re worth her time, right?”

“Right.” He nods as he drags himself to his feet. Once he’s there, he shoves a hand at me. “I’m Derrick, by the way.”

I take his offered hand and shake it. “William Knight.”

“Thanks for stepping in.” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “What you saw is not who I want to be.”

“Good.” I pat his shoulder. “Get out of here and don’t come back until you’re the man Gloria deserves.”

“Will do.”

I turn just as Rupert reaches me. “You must be Rupert.”

“And you’re Mr. Knight.” He grins from ear to ear. “Mr. Will Knight, right?”

“William Knight,” I make the subtle but vital correction. “It’s good to meet you.”

15

Opal

My internal debateabout whether or not to wrap the signed Turquoise Crown special edition game for William in shiny gold paper was short. I knew that dragging my modest gift-wrapping station out of the closet of my crowded apartment would be overkill.

All I want to do is make up for spilling smelly dip on him. I’m not trying to impress the man, although if I were, I’d hope that the pretty black blouse I’m wearing with my dark wash jeans would grab his attention for more than a few scant seconds.