He answered on the second ring.

“Meet me at the coffee shop on West Paces Ferry,” I said.

“Two o’clock.”

The afternoon sun glared against the windows of the suburban coffee shop.

Brandon sat across from me in a small booth, holding a paper cup and staring at his phone.

“Brenda reviewed the preliminary budget this morning,” I said.

Brandon locked his phone screen and placed it face down on the table.

“Samantha has very specific tastes,” Brandon said.