“So. About François’s statue.” I keep my voice neutral and calm. He needs to be assured this isn’t a big problem. It’s a fixable problem, and I’m going to do exactly that.
“Ah, right,” he says, swiveling in his chair. “How’s that going?”
“I have the piece, but…I’m not sure you really want to give it to Ceinlys.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”
I pull out my phone, get the photo on the screen and hand it over. “See for yourself.”
He takes it and stares for a long time, his mouth in a firm, tight line. I continue to keep my expression neutral, waiting for him to absorb the picture.
Finally, he looks up. “What is this?”
“Wife.”
“How is that a wife? It looks like a human vulture.” He squints at the screen. “Wait. Is the man alive?”
“I think so. His eyes are open, so…”
Salazar shudders. “What the hell? Is this what the French consider marriage?”
I shrug. “Can’t say. I’m not French.” The statue is weird, since François has never been married. His parents apparently weren’t married either.
My boss hands me my phone back. “Okay, I can’t give this to Ceinlys. She’ll think I hate her!”
I nod, trying to project wise agreement, giving him time to let it all out. Otherwise he won’t be ready to hear the options I’ve prepared.
“But then what can I give her? That statue’s supposed to represent my feelings. I don’t want some run-of-the-mill junk. It has to be unique!”
“I agree. And you don’t have much time.”
“Precisely!” he says, snapping his fingers.
“So I suggest you try doing something for her. That way, it’ll be one of a kind.”
Salazar looks confused. “Like what?”
“A home-cooked meal? Breakfast in bed would be nice, with a mimosa. You’ve never done that for her before, have you?”
My boss tilts his head, obviously dubious. “That’s Mark’s thing,” he says. “And you know, I love my son, but he sucks at it. Not even André could help him.”
“He’s actually gotten better. His pork chops didn’t kill my dog.” They didn’t even cause Champ any indigestion. That’s a clear win.
“Maybe, but they’re still not good enough for anything above a dog.”
Well, yeah, but I’m not going to admit that out loud. “How about a massage, personally performed by you? I can arrange for private lessons beforehand so you can impress her.”
“No.” He waves a hand impatiently. “That’s pathetic. ‘Here you go, honey. Have a lousy massage.’”
A lot of women would love that, but okay. Salazar has his own ideas.
“Maybe a yacht or a private jet…? But custom stuff takes forever,” Salazar says.
Time to give him the proper nudge. “Ceinlys knows you’re rich, so an expensive present won’t have a lot of meaning. What made the latest getaway unique isn’t that you spent a lot of money on it, but that you spent a lot of time with her.”
His gaze loses some focus. “It really was a great trip.”
“Exactly. The most valuable thing you have is time, because you can’t buy more of it. And she knows that. So if you take time out of your busy schedule and learn a new skill or two just to please her…”