I got us a pitcher of sangria and we sat out under the pergola in a beautiful October day. The campus surrounding us was buzzing with activity. The sk... was cloudlessly blue, and the late afternoon sun was bright.Up to that point we’d exchanged exactly seven words. But it felt like we’d been sitting across from each other for at least a hundred lifetimes. She was still looking at me puzzled, like I was a novel species of anthropoid.She said with wonder in her voice, “I feel like we’ve known each. ‘That old fool you work for, he can’t see a good deal when he’s got one. This is business, not personal. He’d do well to remember that.’ ‘Oh please,’ Monica scoffed. ‘This isn’t the Godfather.’ ‘Because,’ he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘if you want it personal, then I can make it personal. Charles has this idea that you two can work together, that he can be your boss. I’d hate to see him disillusioned…again.’ She spun around, suddenly furious. ‘What do you mean, again? Are you threatening. More

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