A brutally cold gin and tonic was Vinnie’s favorite summer drink, and since he was about to impose in a big way, the least he could provide was the man’s drink of choice. Vinnie hadn’t asked questions when Ash called. He’d just agreed to swing by after he closed the shop. Ash heard the sorrow in his voice, and the willingness to help, and knew he’d need to use both when he pulled Vinnie into the . . . situation. He was a good man, Ash thought as he surfed the Internet for more information on the egg. Happily married for nearly forty years, a canny businessman with an unerring eye for value, father of three, besotted grandfather of six. Or it might be seven by now. Have to check the spreadsheet. He’d taken Oliver on, knowing full well he was taking on the unreliable and capricious in his sister’s only son. But it had seemed to work. Everyone got along with Vinnie, that was true enough, but he expected—and received—good value from his employees.
