I stretch out in the leather conference room chair at the Feedn Time office downtown and stare out the tall, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the large lake. I sigh and tap the cap of my pen against the wood grain table. Such a beautiful view. I’m glad Tessa finally convinced them to move the operation from the living room couch to a legit office space. For the first few years, Mom and Dad ran everything out of our house, despite Tessa’s constant complaints.

“We can’t hold investor meetings in the living room. People won’t take us seriously, no matter how much they love our products and values.” Tessa would say over and over again, until Dad finally caved. Mom, of course, didn’t want to pay for something when the operation ran smoothly from the comfort of her own home, but when Foodtrepreneur magazine showed up at the new office and raved about the décor, snapping pictures for the accompanying article of how Feedn Time had exploded onto the organic produce scene, she was suddenly thrilled with the new accommodations.

The door creaks open, and I twist around to see Tessa walk in with piles of pamphlets, media kits, financial documents, and sample produce kits. She dumps everything on the table and stares into space, chewing one of her nails.

“Tess? What’s up? Are you nervous?”

Her eyes widen, and she tugs on a strand of blonde hair, her eyes studying every inch of space in the conference room, and in doing so, avoiding my curious gaze. “I’m, um, just a little nervous, I guess.” She chews faster.

“You’re going to ruin your manicure.” I point to her fingers.

She shrugs and pulls her hand away from her mouth, pacing in front of the window.

“Wow, this guy must really be smokin’, huh? I don’t think I’ve seen you this hot and bothered about meeting with a guy before.”

“He’s not a guy, Cam. He’s a potential business partner.” She keeps pacing. In five-inch heels. With warnings of a blizzard on the way.

Typical Tessa.

“Oh, stop. You like him. And I have to admit, I’m curious. I don’t remember the last time you were so wound up about seeing a guy. Maybe you really didn’t sleep with him.”

Tessa snorts and flips her hair. “Cammy, I told you nothing happened between us!”

“Then why are you flipping out like this? You know he’s going to want to invest. You did the research. You know what he wants, and you know you want to give it to him.”

Another eye roll. “My research skills clearly aren’t as sharp as I’d like to think,” she grumbles, spreading the papers out on the table.

I click through a few screens to set up a slew of ads for Feedn Time, harnessing my Google advertising prowess. “Well, I think you’ll really like these new ads. People love the story you’re pitching, and I think that—”

“Cammy, there’s something I need to tell you.” Tessa interrupts, and I look up from my laptop screen.

I sigh, shaking my head in mock disgust. “If you want me to go in a different direction with these ads, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to charge you a boatload for my wasted time.”

“It’s not the ads.” She casts a quick glance at the doorway, still empty at this point. “It’s something else, something I found out when we were at the diner—”

“Tessa!” Dad’s voice booms from the reception area.

She gasps and scrambles to her feet. “Wait here,” she hisses.

Yeah. As if. I swivel around and spring up from my chair, hot on her heels.

“Brian, settle down! Your blood pressure!”

Mom’s voice rises in the distance, and now I’m sufficiently flummoxed. What in the hell is happening out there?

“Daddy, please. Relax. I didn’t know when I set the meeting. I only just found out.”

Found out what?

“Well, I don’t care. This meeting is over!”

I round the corner and smack right into my sister’s back, my nose jamming into her extremely tense spine. “What the heck is going on?”

Dad turns to me. “I was just wondering the same thing…why we’re taking a meeting with a potential investor who has already proven with his actions that he can’t be trusted and that he has no regard for any of us. I have no interest in taking his money, and I sure as hell don’t plan to let him take any of ours!” He turns his back on me, facing whoever is standing in front of him. “Merry Christmas. Now get the hell out of here.”

I step forward, my jaw damn near hitting the thick carpet.

“Jack?” I whisper.