CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

“Were they happy?” Emily asked.

Sleet lashed the tall glass windows next to their table, but the interior of the café was warm and smelled of bread and chocolate. The place was actually a gallery, down on Twenty-Fourth Street. Maybe the art wasn’t selling well. The owners had gradually expanded the coffee bar into a full-service dining area, and young people with odd clothing filled the sleek wooden chairs.

In other words, the kind of place that an earlier Finn wouldn’t have entered in a million years.

“Seven hundred and forty-three thousand each? Yeah, I’d say they were happy.” He considered a moment. “Always hard to tell with Corman, of course.”

“They didn’t mind that you gave me a share?”

“It was only fair.” Finn sipped his hot cider. “For a while, they all thought they were getting nothing.”

Ice rapped at the windows. Conversation burbled from the people around them. Finn could see into the better-lit gallery area from his seat, a rather stark room of bare white walls and a plain wooden floor. A series of dark red panels, slashed open with strips of shredded cotton dangling, occupied one wall. Opposite were a half dozen paintings of lily pads and watercress.

Finn assumed they were by two different artists, but he was no critic.

“Actually, Corman,” he added. “It’s not for me to say or anything, but …”

“What?”

“When we’re all done, we leave, right? Asher gets in his piece-of-shit truck, drives away. And that’s when I notice there are only two other vehicles. One is mine.”

He stopped, didn’t have to wait long.

“No way.”

“Yup. Him and Nicola. The same car. She kind of waved at me when they got in.”

Emily started to grin. “Good for them.”

“My thought exactly.”

The waitress passed by, checked in, moved on. Emily added more cream to her complicated coffee drink.

“Kind of ironic,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“You kept telling me how you were the last of the cowboys—the rangelands are all fenced, the gunslingers all dead.” She caught his look. “Like, only dinosaurs are still out there stealing physical, tangible things. Today’s thieves are online, millions of dollars with a few taps on the keyboard.”

His own words coming back.

“And in the end, that’s how we make our haul.” Finn smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

“On the other hand, you’re still alive. Unlike the gunslingers and dinosaurs.”

“Good point.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Do?”

“With the rest of your life.”

“Yeah.” He finished the mug. “Been considering that.”

“And?”

“I think I might settle on a business.”

“Oh?” Her tone was hard to read.

“It turns out,” he said, “there’s this machine shop in New Jersey that might be for sale.”

“Ah.”

“Seems the owner died, and the estate’s a little confused, but if someone’s willing to move quick? They might get it for a good price.”

Emily considered. “Didn’t you say he couldn’t make a go of it? Which is why he went to Wes in the first place?”

“Jake.” Finn sighed. “Jake was clever, and he could mill steel better than anyone I ever knew, but you know … he wasn’t very smart.”

“And you are?”

“Smart enough not to take dumb jobs anymore.” He turned the question away. “What about you?”

“I quit.”

“I know.”

“But the attorneys taking Heart Pine apart, they’re paying me as a consultant. Wes wasn’t exactly good with the paperwork. So I’ve got a few months there, helping them figure out the records.”

“What about the government?”

She shrugged. “The lawyers say the SEC has made some calls, but no one seems too concerned. Wes lost a barrel of money, but it was mostly his. No widows and orphans in sight.”

“That’s good.” And it was. “I’m glad it’s all working out.”

“Hmm.” Emily withdrew her hand and sat a little straighter, studying Finn’s face. “Is it?”

For the first time in a long while, Finn felt good.

“Yeah,” he said, and took her hand back. “I’d say that it is.”