Chương 4
“Why?”
“Because I need the shifts.”
“Tomas, reporting her wouldn’t cost you shifts.”
He gave Nora a look stripped of deference.
“You’re the owner’s daughter.”
The sentence landed harder than Celeste’s rings had.
Nora folded her arms, then unfolded them because the posture felt defensive.
“You’re right,” she said.
He looked surprised.
“I don’t know what it costs you to make a complaint,” she continued. “But I need to know what happened.”
“She found the phone. She laughed. Said she must be getting old.” Tomas placed the cards in a drawer. “She gave me twenty dollars.”
“As an apology?”
“As a tip.”
Nora closed her eyes briefly.
“Did anything else happen?”
“No.”
“You hesitated.”
“She told Ms. Vega not to use me at her table again.”
“Were you assigned to her tonight?”
“No.”
“Because of that request?”
“I guess.”
Nora pushed away from the cabinet. “I’m going to speak with Elena.”
Tomas’s shoulders tightened. “Don’t make this into something.”
“It already is something.”
“For you, maybe. Tomorrow you’ll still be the director. She’ll still be rich. Ms. Vega will still schedule people. I’ll still be the guy who complained about a donor.”
“What do you want me to do?”
He looked toward the open inch of doorway.
“I don’t know.”
It was the most honest answer anyone had given her all evening.
Nora left the office and found Elena in the ballroom wrapping unused place cards in brown paper.
Elena was fifty-six, with cropped black hair and the enduring patience of someone who had spent most of her career watching other people create emergencies out of seating arrangements.
“You should be upstairs,” Elena said.
“I live three miles away.”
“You know what I mean.”
Nora picked up a stack of place cards and held them while Elena wrapped.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Celeste and Tomas?”
Elena stopped folding the paper.
“He told you.”
“Yes.”
“He asked me not to file a report.”
“You could have told me.”
“I could have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Elena reached for tape. “Because we had the Ward pledge in negotiation. Because Tomas asked me not to. Because Celeste found the phone. Because I told myself I had handled it.”
“You removed him from her table.”
“I protected him from her.”
“You also gave her what she wanted.”
Elena tore the tape with more force than necessary. “That is easy to say tonight.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you were not wearing that uniform at the museum. You were wearing a blue dress and discussing seven-figure commitments. I had a nineteen-year-old employee telling me he needed rent money and did not want a complaint attached to his name. I made the choice available to me.”
“You could have called me.”
“And said what? One of our largest prospective donors made a classist remark, misplaced her own phone, and tipped the employee she embarrassed? You would have confronted her.”
“Yes.”
“Exactly.”
Nora set the cards down. “You say that as though it would have been irrational.”
“I say it as though I know you.”
Elena began wrapping again.
Nora watched her hands. “Do you think I’m reckless?”
“I think you confuse refusing compromise with having principles.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Yes.”
Elena smoothed the paper flat. “It can still be true.”
The ballroom doors opened. Edward entered, jacket removed, vest still buttoned. He carried two cups of coffee from the kitchen.
“I thought I heard character assassination,” he said.
“Workplace feedback,” Elena replied.
He handed one cup to Nora.
She tasted it. Too much milk, no sugar. The way he had made it for her since she was sixteen, though she had stopped drinking it that way years ago.
“Elena knew Celeste had done this before,” Nora said.
Edward looked at the events manager.
Elena did not flinch. “There was an incident. I handled it poorly.”
“That is not what I said,” Nora told her.
“It’s what you meant.”
Edward placed his coffee on a table. “Tell me.”
Elena did.
He listened without interruption, which was how Nora knew he was angry. When Elena finished, he removed his glasses, cleaned them with the inside of his vest, and put them back on.
“Celeste’s access to foundation events is suspended,” he said.
Nora shook her head. “You can’t decide that.”
“I am chairman of the board.”
“And I am executive director.”
“Then consider it a recommendation.”
“It sounded like an order.”
“Perhaps because it was sensible.”
Elena picked up the wrapped cards. “I’m going to give both of you the gift of privacy.”
After she left, Nora carried the coffee to the nearest table and sat.
Edward remained standing.
“You exposed who I was,” she said.
He looked genuinely taken aback. “She had her hand raised to you.”
“I had stopped her.”
“She had accused you of theft.”
“I was answering her.”
“And everyone in the room believed you were an employee.”
“I was an employee.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes. I do.”
Nora untied her sneakers and retied them, though the laces were not loose.
For three months she had worked selected events in staff uniform. She had not hidden her name or lied about her position, but she had stopped introducing herself as the director when she arrived. The decision had come after a volunteer survey described foundation events as “beautifully organized but strangely hostile behind the walls.” Staff reported donors entering service areas, ignoring instructions, making comments about accents, and treating temporary workers as though workplace rules did not apply.
Nora had read the survey twice before realizing she had never personally seen any of it.
People behaved well when they knew the director was watching.
So she had stopped making sure they knew.
Edward had disliked the idea from the beginning.
“You thought this would happen,” Nora said.
“I thought something might happen.”
“And you let me do it.”
“You are twenty-nine years old. I do not let you do things.”
“You try.”
May you like
“Frequently.”
She looked at him over the coffee cup.
