“That’s wonderful.”
“And I believe you know my boss.”
“Your boss?”
She nods and looks at the drink.
“He’s my cousin. I started working for him a long time ago. We didn’t grow up together or go to the same school. I went to boarding school.”
I’m not sure why she’s telling me all of this, but I’ll play along. If Cassidy went to boarding school, that explains why I never met her until recently. Not that I know everyone in town, but most of the locals are at least familiar with one another.
“Why?”
She shrugs. “My parents didn’t want me around. My dad was having affair after affair, and my mom was drowning herself in drugs. You know the story.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” she says. “When I graduated, I moved home, and I moved in with my grandparents. They supported me when I was working on getting my real estate license and they supported me as I started working with my cousin.”
Wait, real estate?
Cousin?
Something whispers to me at the back of my mind, something long forgotten. A story, perhaps? Who do I know that had a cousin at boarding school?
And then it hits me.
I remember.
“You’re Cassidy Cambridge,” I say suddenly, and she nods sadly.
“The one and only.”
“Your dad...”
“Screwed every married woman in town.”
“Not every single married woman, but pretty close, if I remember correctly.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” she says, but she speaks sadly.
“And Alastair is your cousin.”
“Yes.”
“I saw him today.”
“I know.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask. “Alastair isn’t good at changing his mind when it comes to problems like the ones Lyon County is facing.”
“You mean like the reluctance to adjust our city’s inner-workings to make it more accessible to shifters of all backgrounds?”
“Pretty much.”
“Yeah, well, fuck Alastair.”
What a little fireball.