Minor excitement on Sunday: Isaac Ransom called. Isaac hired me when I finished school, taught me how to make a living as an accountant. Not just how to get paid, how to put something in the bank so later when you turned your whole life upside down you could still afford a classy loft in a ritzy neighborhood.
“Heard you were back on the market, Jess.”
“Heard where?” I knew better than to ask, but maybe he’d softened in his old age.
“Around. Sure. Anyway, not sure what market I’m back on, Izzy.”