“Call Nina,” Sullivan replied. “She lives for this stuff.”
That afternoon, showered and out of her gardening clothes, Sullivan arrived at Nina’s condo on the twenty-fourth floor. Inside, floor-to-ceiling windows owned the room. The view of Portland commanded attention. A Vietnamese silk orchid graced thedining table. Sunlight gleamed off deceptively low-end kitchen appliances. Nina did not cook. Nina was already seated at the end of her oyster-gray sofa.
“Espresso?” Nina gestured to her Nespresso machine. “Don’t panic,” Nina said before Sullivan could speak but definitelyaftershe’d started to panic.
Kia arrived a moment later. She looked so overwhelmed. Sullivan wanted to put her arm around her again. The way Kia had sunk into her when she’d hugged her in her RV had made Sullivan feel protective and appreciated. There was a thank-god-you’re-here quality in the way Kia melted against her. How could Sullivan not be a tiny bit happy that this beautiful woman wanted her there?
“Don’t worry. This is what Nina does,” Sullivan said.
“So I’ve got good news and slightly… inconvenient news,” Nina said before Kia had settled onto the sofa.
Nina could be dramatic, but she never overreacted, which meant her idea ofinconvenientmight be Sullivan’s idea of end-of-my-life-as-I-know-it. Wait. That had already happened. Something worse. Something inconvenient like falling off a cliff was inconvenient.
“Good news. I read the complaint, and it’s bullshit. They’re saying you entered into a fake marriage to secure a land deal, which you did.” Nina paused to sip her espresso. “But that’s okay. Everyone’s marriage is fake, and it is always about the money.”
“That’s—” Kia sat down at the far end of the sofa on which Sullivan was quietly panicking.
“Not true?” Nina said. “You understand food. I understand love and law. The beautiful thing is that it’s okay. Nothing says you can’t marry for money.”
“What do we do?” Kia looked at Sullivan. “I am so sorry.”
Part of Sullivan wanted to point out thatsorrybarely began to touch on how bad Kia should feel, but that felt like kicking a puppy, because Kia looked devastated. The way she looked at Sullivan, it almost seemed like she felt worse about Sullivan’s predicament than her own. Despite the impending inconvenience (e.g., earthquake, prison sentence, murder hornets), Sullivan felt comforted by the thought that Kia cared.
“I thought I was doing the right thing.” Kia’s lip quivered.
“Move over, Nespresso; is it time for gin?” Nina asked. “I can make you a martini.”
That was the extent of Nina’s culinary abilities.
Kia shook her head.
“Here’s how it’s going to go. First, Kia, you’ll have to stop any work you’ve got planned for the Bois. The judge has granted an injunction. That basically means no one can do anything until we’ve got this settled. Then we’ll have some depos, collect some evidence for what’s called a hearing for summary judgment. That means we’ll all show up in court. Mega Eats will say what they say. I’ll point out that there’s no law against a self-serving marriage, and—Sullivan, don’t look that way. You’re getting something out of this too even if it’s not exactly what you want.”
“It’s not at all what I want.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sullivan saw Kia hang her head. Why couldn’t Kia have bought a defunct car dealership lot on Eighty-Second Avenue? They could be celebrating together. It really would have been nice to have Kia back in her life, but not like this.
Nina waved away Sullivan’s comment.
“The summary judgment is when we tell the judge that Mega Eats’ lawsuit is bullshit, and the judge ends it because the law is on your side one hundred percent.”
“You mean they just say Mega Eats can’t sue us?” Kia looked up.
“Exactly. There’s no judge on the Oregon bench who’s going to say marriage has to be for love. And there’s no judge who’s going to say Kia can’t take advantage of the legacy clause in the Oakwood charter. It’s crystal clear. You can marry whomever you want—with a few obvious exceptions—for whatever reason you want and do whatever you want with your money provided you’re not embezzling or hiring assassins.”
“As one does,” Sullivan said.
Kia gave a wan laugh. Sullivan had always liked Kia’s laugh. It was best when Sullivan had beat Kia at some cooking challenge and gloated about it so extravagantly that Kia had to laugh.
“I know it’s stressful, but this is paperwork.” Nina’s matter-of-factness was comforting. “Businesses fight with each other. Rich people go after rich people. You’re Rich People now, Kia. Give this a month and it’ll all be over, but in the meantime…” The way Nina trailed off was not comforting. She got up and made herself another Nespresso. “I think you two should live together.”
Oh, hell no.
“Why?” Kia asked.
“This is not the big deal you two will think it is, but I got these.”
Sullivan hadn’t noticed the manila envelope on the end table. Sullivan was starting to hate manila envelopes. Nina took out a stack of photos.
