Page 62 of The Billionaires

Huh. “Did she get to talk to him?”

“Perhaps more than just talk. Mom dropped unsolicited hints over the years that there might’ve been an affair there, but Gram never confirmed it. I never probed deeper because I’d rather not know about my grandmother’s private life. Or my mother’s.” He says the last in a way that seems to imply his mom overshares—easy to believe in light of his earlier comment about Metallica.

“Your grandmother sounds fun,” I say. His mom, not so much, but I don’t point that out. “And you seem to know a lot about her.”

“I do,” he says. “I know that Gram’s favorite book is The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan. Her favorite movie is 2001: A Space Odyssey, and she was a huge fan of the moon race.”

I cock my head. “Did you get your love of technology from her?”

He considers this for a second. “You know, it’s possible.”

“Does she also want to be a robot?”

“Not in so many words,” he says. “Gram is skeptical that an artificially created body would allow all the nuanced sensations and emotions that humans can feel. That’s what it would take for her to put her brain into one.”

“If that becomes possible, I’d consider shoving my brain into such a body,” I say. “When I’m eighty, anyway.”

Lucius points his lobster fork at me triumphantly. “So you’re not as technophobic as I thought.”

“Never said I was.”

He clears his throat pointedly. “The CD player. The flip phone. You don’t see how someone could get that idea?”

I roll my eyes. “When am I going to meet the legendary Gram?”

His phone dings.

He checks it and grins widely. “Jinx. She’s just asked me when she’s going to meet you.”

“How about shortly after we’re back?”

“You sure?” He glances at his phone, as though his grandmother can overhear us through it—and for all I know, maybe she can.

“Yeah. I’d love to meet her.”

He fires off a text. “It’s set up. No backing out now.”

I eat another morsel, then ask, “Any last-minute things we should get to know about each other?”

“You haven’t told me much about your family.”

I purse my lips. “Did your dossier on me not go into that?”

He sighs. “Can you forget about that already?”

Can I? No. Can I pretend so we can continue the meal in relative peace? Sure. “Well, my parents and their parents are all nice people, with whom I have a great relationship. They all reside in or near Big Bear Lake, which is where I grew up.”

He looks genuinely interested, or is a better actor than I thought. “What do they do?”

“My parents own a snowboarding company,” I say. “Mom’s parents own a fishery, and Dad’s parents are retired teachers.”

I pointedly don’t go into detail about how disappointed my whole clan was when I moved to the big city, an entire two-hour drive away. Or about how I’ve so far foiled their dreams of lots of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Or?—

“Must be nice to have such a big family,” Lucius says.

The hint of wistfulness in his tone makes something in my chest squeeze. “Is it just you, your mom, and your grandmother?”

“More my grandmother than my mom, but yeah.”

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