The business lunch the next day was just myself, Pop, and Nozzel. Nozzel's advisor- the one who'd accompanied him the day before, with the silver-tipped cane (I can remember more!) - was unable to come.
In the light of everyone's business hardship, Nozzel was willing to call off the old feud and start a new business partnership with Pop. The Waxworth's plants had come out fairly unscathed, but he was having difficulty finding buyers. He'd be willing to lower his costs in exchange for a long term partnership with Pop.
Throughout the lunch, Nozzel kept talking to me, asking my opinion, or just giving me a quick glance after he said something that I suppose he thought was especially brilliant. I did my best to keep my mouth full, sipping a bit of wine every time he seemed likely to ask me something so I wouldn't have to answer right away. Halfway through the meal I was starting to feel tipsy and switched to stuffing my mouth with bread, to Pop's intense disapproval.
I welcomed the disapproval. It was much better than the calculating look that had been slowly developing.
Pop declined to make any commitments. Nozzel shook his head - of course, of course- and it was agreed that Nozzel would come to visit our home for extended negotiations. As we said our goodbyes, Nozzel took my hand and kissed it. I flushed, still rather light-headed from the wine, and quickly pulled my hand away.
Pop was in a much better mood on the journey back home. "Rennasta's going to be pleased," he said, speaking of Ma. "She's going to get to throw another party."
I groaned, but Pop didn't scold me, instead clapping a happy hand on my shoulder with a small squeeze. "To think I almost left you at home!"
Maybe things would have been a lot simpler if I'd just followed my gut instinct and ran away right then and there.
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