Chapter 5

“I’m fine, Mr. Brennerman. Take care of your own meal.”

He turned to look at me. “Why don’t you call me Corey?”

“You’re a client.”

“Call me Corey, please. Mr. Brennerman is my dad, and I hate his guts.” Got it.

“Okay. Corey.”

“Good.” He wiped his hands on his shorts, seemingly unsure of his next move.

“Weren’t you getting some lunch for yourself?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Corey went to the refrigerator and took out a frozen meal. He stuck it in the microwave for five minutes. When it was done, he sat down next to me with a fork.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but you seem distracted today, more than usual. Everything all right?” I asked.

“I’ll be fine, just trying to meet a deadline.” He chewed on his chicken pot pie. “Working on a tricky merger. The boss wants something done by five o’clock. I’m a little stressed out.”

“I remember those days,” I said, finishing my sandwich.

Corey glanced up at me, surprised. “You know about…” He broke off.