Chapter 13 - The Letter on Foundation Letterhead
The office smelled like lemon oil and cold coffee. It was off the east hall, past the ballroom doors they'd already closed for cleaning, and the chandelier light didn't reach in here. Just a green banker's lamp on a big desk and blinds half-down over the parking lot.
My name wasn't on the door. It was on a folder in the middle of the desk.
Victoria sat behind it in a gray blazer, hair still in that updo, drop earrings swapped for smaller ones. She didn't look tired. She looked set. A second chair had been pulled up for me. A third person already stood by the filing cabinet with his hands in his pockets.
Alessandro nodded once when I came in. He was still in a suit, no tie, shirt open at the throat. He didn't tell me to sit, so I stayed standing until Victoria tapped the folder.
"Sit, Mara," she said. "This won't take long if you're reasonable."
I sat. My hands were damp and I pressed them flat on my knees. The housekeeper, Mrs. Lane, hovered by the door like she wasn't sure if she was supposed to stay. Two other staff guys waited out in the hall. I could hear their shoes on the marble.
Victoria opened the folder and slid two papers toward me. Thick paper. Foundation letterhead at the top with the little column logo. I recognized it from the gala programs.
"This is a separation agreement," she said. "Two weeks' severance. Paid today by check. In exchange you sign the nondisclosure and the statement of events, and tonight is your last shift."
I picked up the first page. The words swam for a second. I made myself breathe and read line by line.
It said I acknowledged entering a restricted service corridor without authorization during the gala. It said I acknowledged misconduct inconsistent with guest privacy standards.
My throat went tight.
"This isn't what happened," I said. My voice sounded thin in that room.
Victoria folded her hands. "It's what's written. Sign both copies."
I looked at the second page. Nondisclosure. No discussion of the Romano family, the foundation, or events of October first with press or other staff or future employers. Penalty clause underlined.
"I ran an errand for catering," I said. "Mr. Dunn sent me for ice. I have the slip. I didn't go in any restricted —"
"You were seen where you shouldn't have been," Victoria cut in. "That is enough. I'm offering you money to leave quietly. Most girls in your position would take it."
The lamp buzzed faintly. I could hear my own breathing. I kept my eyes on the paper because if I looked at her I knew I'd cry and I didn't want to give her that.
"I can't sign this," I said. "It's not true."
"You can," she said. "And you will if you want the check. If you don't, you leave with nothing and a termination for cause in your file."
Mrs. Lane shifted by the door. I felt her looking at the floor.
Alessandro stepped forward then. He picked up the termination page and read it fast, jaw working.
"You wrote misconduct," he said to Victoria.
"Because that's what it was," she said.
"Where's cause?" he said. "You need a witness, a time, a report. You don't have it."
"I have guests who saw her upstairs," Victoria said. "I have a right to protect this house."
"You have a draft you want me to co-sign," he said, and set the paper back down. "I'm not signing it."
The room went still. Even the hall noise stopped.
Victoria stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"I'm not putting my name on a termination without cause," he said. His voice stayed low. "You want to suspend her pending review, fine. You want to pay her what she's owed, fine. I'm not firing her for something she didn't do."
"She's staff," Victoria said, sharper now. "This is my event, my foundation board, my decision. Don't undermine me in front of them."
She flicked her eyes toward the door where Mrs. Lane stood. That only made it worse. Lane didn't leave. The two men in the hall had gone quiet, listening.
"You brought me in here to witness this," Alessandro said. "So I'm witnessing it. She's not signing a false statement."
I pushed the papers back an inch with my fingertips. My hand shook and I hated that it shook.
"I'm sorry," I said to Victoria. "I need the money. But I won't sign that I did something I didn't do."
Victoria's mouth pressed flat. For a second she looked like she had in the ballroom, cold and locked.
"Then you're suspended without pay," she said. "Effective immediately. Turn in your keycard on the way out. You'll be notified if there's a hearing."
"I already worked three shifts this week," I said. "My check —"
"Will be held pending review," she said.
Alessandro looked at me, then at her. "You can't hold earned wages over a signature."
"I can hold a final review for forty-eight hours," Victoria said. "Ask HR."
Nobody moved. Mrs. Lane cleared her throat softly. Victoria snapped, "Leave us," and Lane slipped out, pulling the door half-closed. The men in the hall didn't move far enough. I could still see a shoe, a sleeve.
Victoria stood. She picked up the folder and closed it like that ended it.
"You've split this family over a catering girl," she said to Alessandro.
"No," he said. "You did that when you wrote this letter."
He picked up the severance check paper-clipped to the back — it hadn't even been signed yet — and set it square in front of me, unsigned. A promise with no signature.
May you like
I left my keycard on the corner of the desk. It clicked too loud.
I walked out past Lane and the two guys who suddenly found the ceiling very interesting. My face burned. I wasn't fired, I wasn't paid. Just out in the hall with my hands empty and the office door still open behind me and their voices starting up again before I'd even reached the stairs.
