“But why do you want me there?” I measured out olive oil, Parmesan, and pine nuts and prayed that I could do my pesto recipe from memory. “The only thing I know about business is that I don’t have much at the moment.”
“I’ve invested a hundred thousand dollars just in the mine venture, Goldy. With that money, I could have put my dear nephew Julian through Cornell. Twice.” Her husky voice cracked.
“You’re already putting him through,” I reminded her gently, and started the food processor whirling.
“Yes, but still, a hundred K!” she fumed. “I could have … well, let’s see, I could have … put in a few new windows at the cardiac rehab center. Then I’d have a nice view of the hospital grounds while I’m on that damn treadmill.”
And wouldn’t Lyle Gordon, M.D., have loved that, I thought. The pe
