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handful of beans.
    She tried to borrow from her roommates, but Theresa was broke and Roland skeptical. He read the Veritech prospectus and pointed out, “It says here the company doesn’t make a profit.”
    “I don’t think that matters,” Jess said. “Hardly any companies make profits these days.”
    “Really?”
    “I mean, not yet.”
    “And it says this is a high-risk investment.”
    “But it’s Emily’s company. It’s not high-risk,” said Jess.
    Roland shook his head. “Call me old-fashioned.” He returned the prospectus.
    “I’d pay you right back.”
    “But you can’t be sure the stock will go up.”
    “Why do you have to be my roommate?” Jess demanded, half-laughing. “Why do I get the only person in the entire country who doubts Veritech is going way up?”
    “I don’t doubt,” said Roland loftily, “I suspend judgment. Socially liberal, fiscally conservative, baby.”
    Jess’s ten days were almost over. Still, she didn’t mention the Friends and Family offering when she spoke to her father on the phone.
    “Everything’s okay?” Richard asked.
    “Yup, how are you?”
    “We’re all fine. Heidi had a paper deadline this week. Lily had an ear infection.”
    “Oh, poor Lily.”
    “She’s fine,” said Richard, after which Jess spoke to the three-year-old on the phone.
    “One potato, two potato, three potato four , five potato, six potato, eleven potato more , five potato, six potato, seven potato eight …”
    After several minutes, Jess asked, “Could I talk to Dad?”
    “Hello, this is Blue Bear. Hello. Come to my house.” Blue Bear’s voice sounded like a balloon running out of air. “A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, elemenopee,” Blue Bear chanted faster and faster. Lily began giggling. “QRSTUVWXYandZ. ABCDEFGQRSTelemenopee.”
    “Could I talk to your daddy?” Jess asked again, but Blue Bear hung up, and Richard didn’t call her back.
    “I can’t believe you haven’t taken care of it,” Emily scolded on the phone. “What are you waiting for?”
    “Well …” She could hear Emily typing in the background, multitasking as usual.
    “It’s not very difficult,” Emily said.
    “I don’t have eighteen hundred dollars.”
    “Didn’t you call Dad? All you have to do is ask him nicely.”
    Now Jess saw what Emily wanted. She wanted Jess to talk sweetly to her father, after which he would help her, and they would get along again. Emily was a firm believer in getting along, no matter what, and seemed to think if you behaved considerately, real feeling followed. But how could affection bloom in rocky soil? What were words without love? Only dust. Jess could not live in such a xeriscape.
    “You did call him,” Emily said.
    “Of course.”
    “And did you ask him?”
    “Well … not yet.”
    If only George had written her a check. He was so rich; he must be to own a store like Yorick’s. And he had heard of Veritech. He understood about technology and knew she’d pay him back immediately. But he had to say no. He loved saying no.
    He was strange and self-absorbed. He asked questions and then wandered away before he heard the answers. Then when Jess asked a question of her own or tried to start a conversation, he interrupted.
    “I’ve read some Trollope—” she would begin.
    “And you were offended by the foxhunting?” George broke in.
    “I see no reason,” she mused, “that books are more expensive because of who owned them. It’s—”
    “The way things work,” George cut her off.
    He was attractive and he knew it, but he pretended he had no idea. Therefore he was both vain and disingenuous. Tall, or so he seemed to Jess, he looked Italian with his dark skin and dark eyes. Very old—again, from Jess’s point of view—where anyone past thirty harked back to another era altogether. Despite his years, George had a powerful body, a broad chest, a face of light and shade, a glint of humor even in his frown. When he wasn’t lobbing his sarcastic