Richard asked her on a Sunday, which was already strange, because Richard didn't ask things. He informed.
Annie was at the kitchen table, feeding the baby mashed pear, when he came in and stood awkwardly by the counter and said, "There's a thing. A company ball. Next Saturday."
"Mm." She scraped the spoon. "And?"
"And I need you to come."
Annie paused. Need. That was a word Richard did not use about her. She looked up. "Why?"
He shifted his weight. "The investors. The big three — Victor, Marcus, Elias. They're all going to be there. They, ah." He cleared his throat. "They asked after you. Specifically."
"Asked after me." A beat. "Why would they ask after me?"
And Richard — for the first time in years, for maybe the first time ever — looked genuinely uncomfortable.
"There was, ah. A
