Chương 6
Not addressed to Emily.
Addressed to Daniel.
Hale Capital would restructure the Mercer Restoration loan on favorable terms if the “current reputational dispute” were resolved without additional public escalation.
Daniel read the letter alone in his office.
His office smelled of sawdust even though no woodworking happened there.
The smell came from the warehouse floor.
He had liked that smell for thirty years.
He sat behind the desk and calculated what favorable restructuring meant.
It meant no immediate layoffs.
It meant the warehouse stayed.
It meant Jerome’s twins started school without their father wondering whether he had a job in September.
It meant Linda’s retirement account stopped being something Daniel considered raiding at three in the morning.
He hated himself for feeling relief.
He folded the letter.
Opened it.
Folded it again.
At five, Emily arrived unexpectedly.
She still had bruising around her eye, now yellow at the edges.
“Mom said you were here.”
“She worries.”
“She said you hadn’t eaten.”
“That too.”
Emily put a sandwich on his desk.
Daniel looked at it.
“Turkey?”
“Chicken.”
“I hate chicken salad.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you buy it?”
“I forgot.”
They looked at each other.
Emily laughed first.
Daniel did too.
It was ugly laughter.
Tired.
A little inappropriate.
Then Emily saw the letter.
“What’s that?”
Daniel’s hand moved over it.
Old instinct.
Hide the difficult thing until he had solved it.
He stopped.
He slid it across the desk.
Emily read it.
By the end, her face had gone still.
“He offered you the company.”
“No.”
“He offered to stop taking it.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
Daniel looked away.
Emily set the letter down.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“What are you going to tell him?”
“I don’t know.”
Emily stepped back.
Daniel saw the hurt before she spoke.
“You don’t know?”
“Thirty-two people work here.”
“I know.”
“Some of them have worked for me since you were in middle school.”
“I know.”
“I am not saying you should do anything.”
“But you don’t know.”
Daniel stood.
“This isn’t simple.”
Emily laughed without humor.
“No. Apparently nothing is.”
She walked toward the door.
Daniel said, “Emily.”
She stopped.
He could have told her that no company mattered more than her.
The sentence was ready.
It would have sounded good.
It might even have been true.
But she had asked him not to protect her with clean answers.
Daniel looked at the letter.
Then at the warehouse beyond the office window.
“I’m scared,” he said.
Emily turned.
He swallowed.
“I’m scared of losing this place. I’m scared of telling thirty-two people that my decisions cost them their jobs. I’m scared I’ll resent Victor for it and then, somewhere in my head where I don’t want to look, resent you for being the reason he pulled the trigger.”
Emily’s face changed.
Daniel kept going.
“And that would be wrong. But wrong thoughts still happen.”
Neither moved.
“I don’t know what the company survives,” he said. “I know what I want to say. I want to say burn it down. I want to tell him to go to hell. But I’m not going to make you responsible for whether I keep my business.”
Emily looked at the floor.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to talk to the employees.”
“About me?”
“No. About the debt. About the risk. The part that belongs to me.”
“And the offer?”
Daniel picked up the letter.
He tore it in half.
Emily flinched.
Daniel stopped.
“Sorry. Dramatic.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
He put the two pieces neatly in the trash.
“Better?”
“A little.”
He called a staff meeting the next morning.
He did not mention Emily’s injuries.
He did not describe Victor as a monster.
He told his employees that the company’s primary lender was reviewing the loan and that there was a real possibility Mercer Restoration would have to sell assets, restructure, or reduce staff.
Someone asked why.
Daniel said, “Because I signed an agreement eighteen months ago that gave the lender leverage I should not have given them.”
Rosa crossed her arms.
“Why’d you sign it?”
“Payroll.”
“That supposed to make us feel better?”
“No.”
Another employee asked whether the situation had anything to do with the video online.
Daniel hesitated.
“Yes.”
The room became uncomfortable.
Jerome looked at the floor.
A younger project manager said, “So we lose jobs because of your family problem?”
Several people turned toward him.
Daniel held up one hand.
“He asked a fair question.”
The young man looked surprised.
Daniel continued.
“If layoffs happen, they happen because I put this company in a position where one lender could squeeze us. That part is mine.”
“What about Hale?” someone asked.
Daniel said, “His part is his.”
Nobody applauded.
Nobody told Daniel he was brave.
Two employees resigned within a week because they had mortgages and other offers.
Daniel was angry at them.
Then embarrassed by his anger.
He sent each a short email wishing them well.
One replied.
Thanks. Sorry.
The other did not.
Emily rented a furnished apartment fifteen minutes from her parents.
Daniel hated the building’s parking garage.
Too dark.
He inspected the locks without asking.
Emily caught him.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking the deadbolt.”
“Did I ask you to?”
“No.”
“Then stop.”
He stopped.
She stared.
“You’re angry.”
“I’m not.”
“You make this face when you’re angry.”
“This is my face.”
“No. Your regular face is less... compressed.”
Daniel almost argued.
Then he laughed.
“Compressed?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not a face.”
“It is on you.”
He took his hands off the lock.
“Fine.”
Emily’s expression softened.
“I know you’re trying.”
“I’m bad at trying.”
“You’re bad at not fixing.”
“That too.”
She opened a kitchen cabinet.
The apartment came with four plates, four glasses, and one skillet.
Daniel looked inside.
“That pan is terrible.”
“Go home.”
“I can get you a better one.”
“Go home.”
He went home.
May you like
The next morning he left a new skillet outside her door.
She texted him a photograph of it.
