I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it.

When Cassie had called the week before and first broached the offer, I admit, the prospect was tantalizing. But it was such a bizarre bargain that I hadn’t really taken it seriously. I just knew that she was coming to visit and that we’d have a chance to reconcile—after I thought I had permanently ended whatever relationship we had. That in itself had given me something to look forward to during the busy work week.

There’s a certain thrill in the possibility of sleeping with someone, even when you’re not sure it’s going to happen. The uncertainty crackles in the air like electricity before a thunderstorm.

That whole night, it had felt like I was wandering through a limbo state where Cassie and I both were and weren’t dating. I had no idea what was going to happen when we got to her room that night. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted until the moment before I kissed her goodnight.

She stood in the doorway, her face lit by the light of a lamp in a nearby alcove. She was wearing a cashmere robe with my initials monogrammed on the breast pocket and trying her level best not to look me in the face. She seemed nervous and exhausted. I could feel it in the stiffness of her body when I leaned forward to kiss her goodnight. It was as I’d suspected: she’d been coiled up in herself, dreading the consummation of our bargain the entire night.

Our breakfast together the following morning could best be described as “perfunctory.” Cassie had rings around her eyes and looked like she hadn’t slept much the night before. We only had a few minutes to talk, because she was headed out to the airport and I had just texted Asar asking if we could meet before lunch—I had a proposal I wanted to run by him.

“How did you sleep last night?” I asked her as she scraped the last of the marmalade out of a glass jar to put on her croissant.

“Do you remember that scene in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy falls asleep in a field of poppies and has to be rescued by the queen of the field mice?”

“I, uh, never read the book,” I said quietly.

“Well, you remember the scene in the movie, right? Where the Wicked Witch puts her into an enchanted sleep right as they’re entering the Emerald City? Please tell me you’ve seen the movie.”

“I’m…familiar with it.” When she continued to glare at me, I added, “No, I’ve never seen the movie all the way through. It’s not like it plays constantly on cable TV here like it does in the States. We don’t grow up with it like you do.”

“Okay, well, if I ever see you again, the first thing we’re doing is renting The Wizard of Oz because you have to watch it. And then, maybe you can read the book while you’re at it—I left you a nice copy.” The undercurrent of accusation in her voice was unmissable.

“Cassie, listen, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t even worry about it,” said Cassie, though she didn’t exactly sound happy. “The book belongs to you until I can fulfill the terms of my contract. You don’t always win the Golden Fleece. That’s how life works.”

Her tone was oddly formal, but I couldn’t help noticing that her hands were shaking as she finished the last bites of her breakfast. Knowing her, it had taken considerable effort even to say what she had just said.

“Cassie, if you had just stayed a bit longer—I’m sorry about last night.”

“Well, there’s no rule saying this is the last time we have to see each other. If nothing else, I have to make sure you watched The Wizard of Oz.”

“I won’t watch it without you.”

“Then I’m definitely coming back.”

It was hard to tell, from the teasing tone in her voice, how serious she was about coming back. I suspected she meant it as a joke, but I wasn’t going to press the issue. She had just spent almost an entire day flying out here and would shortly be spending another whole day flying back. But I had a feeling I’d be seeing her again before long, in any case.

“Listen, I don’t want to be late to this meeting,” I told her, buttoning my cufflinks, “but my driver will be around in a few minutes to get you.” I gave her a terse kiss on the cheek before adding, “You don’t have to visit me again if you don’t want to.”

“But—” she started.

But I was already gone.

* * *

“Are you really sure you want to do this?” Asar asked, when we met in his office an hour later. “Because I have to tell you, I don’t think this is the wisest decision, financially speaking. If you’ll allow me to be blunt, I think you’re letting the, uh, wrong head control your decisions.”

“Maybe.” The book sat on the table between us, its green cover displaying a dopey, shy-looking lion in glasses. “Or maybe I’ve just been doing some thinking.”

Asar pursed his lips, as if to say he doubted it. “Thinking about what?”

“About right and wrong. About our profession and whether it’s fair, what we do here.”

“There are a lot of really good and brilliant people who would argue that it’s not,” Asar said. “Your sudden moral awakening is impressive. It would be a lot more impressive if your little girlfriend hadn’t provoked it.”

The sting of the insult lingered in the air for a few seconds. My relationship with Asar had cooled considerably ever since that first night with Cassie. Lately, it was threatening to become acrimonious.

“Does it matter how the epiphany happened, as long as it happened?” I slid the book slowly across the table toward him. “Anyway, I think it’s time I let her have it.”

“I’m really beginning to worry that you’ve taken leave of your senses,” said Asar, holding the book up and thumping it hard on the spine. “Do you have any idea how much this book is worth? I know you do, because you were there when we did inventory.”

“What was it that Oscar Wilde said about cynics? ‘A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.’”

“Regardless,” Asar said, glowering, “this is the most ill-advised business decision you’ve made in the six years of our partnership. Why don’t you wait a week or two before doing anything rash? I think you need some time to get the narcotic that is Cassie out of your system.”

“I’m not a drug addict.”

“No, but you’re infatuated,” said Asar, “and sometimes, that’s worse.”

I could see there was going to be no convincing him. I could spend the rest of the day explaining to him that I was rethinking my old hard-nosed approach to business. And he would continue to accuse me of acting on my feelings—as if there was something inherently wrong with letting feelings guide my decisions.

“Now, it’s been a while since I’ve seen any part of this movie,” I said, “but wasn’t there a scene toward the end where Dorothy’s father or uncle or someone gets fired from the bank? And he has a talk with a chimney sweep, and the chimney sweep tells him to go fly a kite, and he takes his kids to the park—”

“That’s Mary Poppins,” said Asar through clenched teeth. “You’re thinking of Mary Poppins.”

“Well.” I reached over and adjusted the flower in his buttonhole. “My point still stands. There are more important things in this world than making two hundred thousand more dollars. Things like—I don’t know—kite-flying, or whimsical children’s books, or—”

“Trying to impress a girl you just met,” Asar suggested.

I nodded eagerly, as though he had just made my point for me. “Exactly. And I think it’s time we incorporated a little love into our business model.”

Asar was practically scarlet with rage. “But—”

“Glad to see you agree, old friend.” Walking over to the door, I took my hat from the hat rack. “I’ll need you to give me the book, Asar,” I said with an air of finality.