Chapter 1
“Why did you fire my mom?”
My voice sounded too small beneath the chandelier. Its lights made bright spots on the marble floor, and my yellow boots squeaked when I shifted my feet. They were on the wrong feet again. Mom usually fixed them, but she hadn't been looking at little things lately.
I held the folded paper out with both hands.
“May I see the letter?”
The tall man crouched in front of me. He was still taller than everyone even when he bent down. His dark suit was smooth and plain, and his eyes stayed on the paper instead of on my boots or the white rabbit pressed against my coat.
I gave him the letter.
The creases had turned white from being opened too many times. I knew because I had opened it in our apartment, on the bus, and once beneath my blanket when Mom thought I was asleep. The Moretti Group letterhead sat at the top. At the bottom was the name that had made Mom stop talking.
The man read it slowly.
For a moment, nothing moved except the snow beyond the glass doors. Then his thumb stopped near the signature. His mouth tightened, but he didn't tear the paper or crush it.
“I never signed this.”
I hugged Rabbit closer. His repaired ear brushed my cheek.
The man looked back at me. “What's your mother's name?”
I watched the people crossing the lobby behind him. Some glanced over and then looked away. Mom had said not to bother anyone. She had said important people didn't like being stopped.
“Elena Carter,” I whispered.
His face changed when I said it, though not in a way I understood. The anger didn't get bigger. It became quieter.
“Did Elena send you here?”
I shook my head. “She told me not to bother anyone.”
“Then why did you come?”
I looked at the letter in his hand. “She kept saying she was fired. But she cried when she said it.”
The man glanced toward another man standing nearby. Marco, I learned later. He wore a formal suit and watched the tall man as if he were checking every breath he took.
“Marco,” the tall man said, “preserve the letter. Don't mark it, fold it, or send it anywhere. Find the original employment record and the termination entry.”
Marco nodded. “I'll handle it.”
“No public accusation,” the tall man continued. “No one searches Elena's apartment. Not yet.”
That made Marco pause. His eyes moved from the letter to me. “And the child?”
The tall man looked at me before answering. “She stays here under supervision. Quietly.”
I didn't like that word. Supervision sounded like being watched at school when I had done something wrong.
“I need my mom.”
“We'll call her,” Marco said.
I took one step back. “No.”
The tall man lowered himself a little farther, until his eyes were closer to mine. He didn't reach for me. That helped.
“Why not?”
“Because she said I wasn't supposed to come here. And because I don't know you.”
“That makes sense.”
Nobody had said that to me all morning.
He set the letter on his open palm and held it where I could see it. “Marco can call your mother. You don't have to leave with him. You don't have to leave with me. Nobody will make you leave with a stranger.”
I studied his face. He looked like someone people listened to before he finished speaking. But he had promised without touching me, and he had not called Mom careless for letting me come.
“Will you stay?”
“If you want me to.”
I nodded.
Marco stepped toward the lobby desk and made the call there. I could hear only pieces of his voice, too low to understand. The tall man remained near me, not close enough to crowd me. He told someone to bring water, but I didn't drink it. The paper cup made my hands shake.
After several minutes, Marco returned.
“She answered,” he said. “She's coming.”
My stomach squeezed. “Is she mad?”
Marco's expression softened, but he didn't pretend. “She sounded frightened.”
The tall man glanced toward the doors, where snow slid across the sidewalk in thin white lines. Then he looked at the forged signature again.
“Keep the original exactly as it is,” he told Marco.
Marco nodded and placed the letter inside a clear folder from the reception desk. He didn't seal it. He didn't hide it.
May you like
I sat in a lobby chair with Rabbit in my lap. The tall man sat across from me, his hands still, his attention fixed on the entrance.
For the first time since Mom had stopped sleeping properly, someone was waiting for her too.
