to unravel, no hidden meanings, no weight of expectation. If he wants you to know something, he says it. If he wants something to happen, he tells you. Just at the moment, there is something comforting about it, in contrast to the smoke-and-mirror world of Topher and Eva, where you never know quite where you stand. Sometimes, back in the early days at Snoop, they would remind me of my parents—the way it would all be sweetness and light in front of visitors, and then screaming and threats when the company had left. At least when Elliot says, “Have you got a problem with that?” you know he genuinely wants an answer.
When my father said it, there was only one answer you were allowed to give: No, Daddy. And then get out of the way as fast as possible, before the blow landed.
I’m nibbling on the edge of the croissant, staring into the flames of the woodburner, when a noise behind me makes me jump. The croissant falls to the floor in a shower of crumbs. I pick it up. Then I turn to see Rik and Miranda coming into the room. Rik looks like he hasn’t slept.
“How are you?” he says to me abruptly, as he sits beside me. I’m taken aback, not sure what to answer. It’s the perfect illustration of the difference between Rik and Elliot. If Elliot were asking I would know what he meant—only Elliot would likely never ask, because he would understand the impossibility of the question. But when Rik asks, it becomes a puzzle to decode. What does he mean? Does he want to know how I feel about Eva’s death? How can I sum that up in a simple answer? Or is he just asking in the meaningless way that people do, only wanting the answer fine?
“I’m… I’m okay,” I say cautiously. “Considering.”
“Really?” Rik looks at me, surprised. “You’re a bigger person than me.” He glances across at Elliot and then lowers his voice, though Elliot is still wearing his big noise-canceling headphones, and I doubt he can hear a thing. “Having that kind of money dangled under your nose and then snatched away…”
Suddenly the real meaning of his question is clear. He wants to talk about Topher. About what this shift in power means for the buyout.
“I… I hadn’t really thought about it,” I say, and it’s the truth… in a way. I would be lying if I claimed I hadn’t wondered what would happen now that Topher controls the company. But somehow the money never felt that real to me. I never felt I had earned it. It doesn’t feel like I had anything taken away—just like I had a strange dream, and then woke up to reality. Only, this—the avalanche, Eva’s death, this doesn’t feel like reality either. More like waking from a dream to find yourself in an equally surreal nightmare.
“But hadn’t you made plans? Banked on the money?”
“Not really,” I say, slowly. “To be honest, I hadn’t really come to terms with the idea that it was going to happen anyway.”
“Jesus.” Rik says. He looks annoyed. I think I’ve said the wrong thing, but I don’t know how. A sense of panic sets in. It is the same sense I always got with my father. That I would do or say the wrong thing. That he would take it out on my mother. “Could you cut the Mother Teresa act, Liz? We’ve lost everything. Don’t you get that?”
“W-we haven’t lost everything though, surely? I mean, we’ve still got the shares.”
“The shares!” Rik gives a short, barking laugh. “Liz, did you listen to the P and L figures I gave out yesterday? We’ll be lucky if Snoop makes it to the year-end at the rate Topher’s going, and without Eva to reassure investors, that’s only going to get worse.”
“But, the update,” I say, although I know I am scrabbling for reassurance now. “Elliot’s geosnooping thing—isn’t the whole point of that to make Snoop more profitable?”
“From a revenue point of view, we’ve already got that information, we’ve had it since the permissions changed last year. How Elliot integrates it into the app may make a difference to the user experience, but user satisfaction has never been our problem, the issue has always been monetizing that. From an investor perspective, rolling out the geosnoop update won’t make a difference—all the added value is already there. And anyway”—he glances over his shoulder at Elliot, who is still typing away—“I’ve got concerns