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gel. “But thank you for accompanying me.”
    “No problem. I’d like to see Mr. Landis up close.”  
    I pulled the door open. Wind swept in, lifting a stack of paper off the receptionist’s desk. The receptionist slapped them down, set a paperweight on the pile, and glared at us.
    “Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t know it was so blustery.”
    “It’s fine,” she lied through her teeth. “Do you have an appointment?”
    Luigi pulled out a business card. He offered it with two hands while bowing. “My name is Ryuu Hasegawa. I have an appointment with Mr. George Deems Landis, III.”
    “That’s Landis.”
    “Yes.”
    “You said Randis.”
    “Ah,” Luigi said. “Forgive my pronunciation. My English is not so good.”
    Her English wasn’t so good, either, but she didn’t see us making fun of her accent.
    She flipped the card over. His name was written in English on the front and Japanese on the back. She spent a few seconds puzzling at the kanji . “I’ll tell Mr. Trey you’re here.”
    When she was out of earshot, Luigi asked, “Who is this Trey?”
    “The man you’re supposed to meet. George Deems the Third. His nickname is Trey. It’s an idiom.”
    “It sounds like an object for serving tea.”
    “Or for carrying a cafeteria lunch.”
    We laughed until the receptionist returned.
    “This way.”
    She led use to an office, knocked, and waited. I surveyed the building. Plush carpeting. Maple paneling. Solid core doors. Several large modern paintings hung on the walls. One looked like a Pollock.
    “Mr. Trey’s personal collection,” she said. “He wanted to be a painter, but the family business was his true calling.”  
    To the left, I noticed a door ajar. The nameplate read G.D. Landis, CEO Emeritus. The office was furnished with an oak desk and a plush leather sofa. Parked near the windows was an electric wheelchair. A man with silver hair slept in the chair. His head was tilted to the side and resting on a neck pillow.  
    “Josie?” Trey Landis called the receptionist from his office. “Y’all can come in now.”  
    “Go on in, boys.” Josie frowned at me. “Just don’t touch anything.”
    “Ryobi!” Landis came around the ten-foot-long glass desk with his hand extended. “Come in, come in.”
    Luigi bowed and offered his business card.
    Landis waved him off. “No formalities here, boys.” He stuck a hand out to me. “I don’t believe I know you. Trey Landis.”
    “Boone Childress.”
    “Not Mary Harriet’s boy?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Your mama’s a damn fine vet. My daddy’s got this old cat he’s had since before they invented sliced bread. If it wasn’t for your mama, it would’ve been dead and buried years ago. Truth is, I should’ve put to sleep three times over, but Daddy’s so fond of it.”
    Luigi snuck a look at me and mouthed, Help me .
    “What’s that?” I pointed at a model on a conference table
    “This, boys, is the Sistine Chapel, the Mona Lisa, and the Last Supper all rolled into one.” He threw his arms wide like a used car salesman. “It’s my masterpiece, Autumn Hall.”
    Autumn Hall was a massive mixed-use development planned to skirt the new freeway extension the state was constructing.
    “Market it and they will come. That’s my motto.” Landis slapped us both on the back. “You’re like me, Rudy. Making your own way in the world, I admire that.”  
    The receptionist knocked. “Time to go, Mr. Trey.”
    “You got Daddy all set?”
    “His nurses just took him across the street.”
    “Thanks, Josie. I appreciate you.” Landis turned his attention back to Luigi and me. “Boys, been good meeting you. Hate to run off, but I’m expected at the hospital for a ribbon cutting. No rest for the wicked. Take care now.”
    He shook hands with us again. The receptionist showed us out.
    “Nice to meet you boys,” she said and locked the door behind us.
    “That was different,” I said.
    Luigi wiped his brow. He was sweating profusely.