“Too confusing. Vernon took the Mysterioso name as his nom de plume on his blog.”
“Why don’t you tell Vernon to stop?”
Emerson went still for a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said.
She knew from his bio that he’d graduated from Dartmouth, so he couldn’t be stupid. Still, she suspected he’d get lost trying to find his way out of a parking lot.
“Truth is, I enjoy Vernon’s blog,” Emerson said. “It’s quite entertaining and every now and then I add my thoughts.” He looked over at Riley. “Do you blog?”
“No.”
He tapped her name into his iPad. “You have a Facebook page.”
“My brother set that up. I don’t know how to quit it.”
“You can’t quit it. It’s there forever. That Mark is such a rascal.”
“Mark?”
“Zuckerberg. Have you heard of him?”
“Of course I’ve heard of him. I suppose he’s a close personal friend?”
“Not close. It says here that you were born in Bishop Hills, Texas. Your mother is a grade school teacher. Your father is a county sheriff, retired. You have four brothers. You’re the youngest. You were a tomboy when you were a child, I think.”
“You only think?”
“A conjecture. You went to Harvard. On a scholarship, I suppose.”
“You suppose right.”
“Then Harvard Business School. Then Harvard Law School.”
“You’re thinking I wasn’t in a hurry to get out into the real world?”
“On the contrary. The real world is where you find it.”
“Who said that?”
“A very wise man. How do you know the Grunwalds?”
“I got a ten-week internship at Blane-Grunwald last summer.”
“Is that hard to get?”
“Almost impossible. And almost impossible to get through. They run you ragged, day and night. You have to get a rabbi or you’re sunk.”
“A rabbi?”
“A mentor. An advisor. Like Obi-Wan Kenobi. Günter was my rabbi. I wouldn’t have gotten through the training program without him.”
“And now you’re working at Blane-Grunwald.”
“Yes, as a junior analyst. I guess I have Günter to thank for that, too.”
“Only you haven’t been able to thank him?”
“I’ve been at the firm for a week, and he’s been absent.”