The caller ID showed our mother’s name.

I hesitated, my finger hovering over the screen.

“Do not answer it,” Derek said quietly, not looking up from his screen. “She will ask about the Chicago contract.”

“She already knows he sent the offer,” I said. “She helped arrange the initial interview through one of her country club contacts.”

The phone stopped vibrating, then immediately began to buzz again.

I sighed and pressed the speaker button.

“Sarah?” my mother’s voice came through, sharp and clear. “Are you with your brother?”

“Yes, Mom,” I said. “We are at the office.”

“Excellent,” she said, her voice carrying a bright, manufactured warmth. “I have been trying to reach Derek all afternoon.”

“I was busy, Mom,” Derek said, leaning toward the phone.

“Well, you won’t be too busy for this,” she said. “I ran into Evelyn Vance at the botanical garden fundraiser today.”

I looked at Derek, remembering the name of the utility representative who had just cut our power.

“Evelyn’s husband is on the board of the regional utility,” our mother continued, her tone smug. “And she was telling me how much the local business community wants to see clean energy succeed.”