The next day, Oliver and I drive out to check on the progress of several new properties scattered across Washington State. By Friday noon, we’ve made our way to Spokane and stopped for lunch at a pub the locals swear has the state’s best pizza. After debating, we agreed that wasn’t quite true, but they were pretty damn close.
TWe could have planned something more efficient than a multiday road trip, I suppose, but I don’t often get to hang out with my best friend someplace that’s not the office or my daughters’ tea parties. And if I’m being totally honest, I also wanted a chance to clear my head and figure s**t out about Presley, which is hard to do when I see her all day, every day, at work.
“What do you think of the town?” I ask, draining the last of my wheat ale. If this place has one
