Chương 11
Her coat was spread beneath her like a blanket.
For several seconds I stayed inside the car.
Relief made me angry.
Anger made me shaky.
Then she looked up and saw me.
Even from fifty feet away, I could see her shoulders drop.
I got out.
She watched me walk toward her.
“You weren’t supposed to come.”
Her voice was hoarse.
“You wrote me a letter.”
“I specifically said I wasn’t doing anything stupid.”
“That part came after I thought you were dead.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
She looked down.
“Sorry.”
I stopped in front of her.
“You are unbelievably selfish.”
“I know.”
“And dramatic.”
“I know.”
“And if you ever do this again, I will personally murder you.”
“That seems legally complicated.”
I stared at her.
She gave me the smallest possible smile.
Then it disappeared.
I sat down beside her in the damp grass.
For a while neither of us spoke.
Dad’s name was carved between us.
Finally Jenna said, “I’m going to sell the house.”
I looked at her.
Her eyes stayed on the grave.
“And I quit my job.”
I turned toward her so quickly that my knee struck the edge of the marker.
“You what?”
“I quit.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“You went to work, missed a meeting, cried in your office, quit your job, turned off your phone, left a letter in your house, and came to a cemetery?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds impulsive.”
“It was impulsive.”
“Yes.”
She pulled her knees closer to her chest.
A smear of mud darkened the hem of her coat.
“What happened with the client complaint?”
Her face tightened.
“Rachel told you?”
“She told me enough.”
Jenna picked at a blade of grass.
“The complaint was mine.”
“What does that mean?”
“I approved something I shouldn’t have approved.”
My stomach tightened again.
“Illegal?”
“No.”
“Dangerous?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Embarrassing.”
“That is not a category.”
“It is in sales.”
I waited.
She looked annoyed at the grass now.
“One of my reps submitted documentation saying a hospital system had completed a product trial.”
“And they hadn’t?”
“They had started it.”
“That sounds different.”
“It is.”
“Did you know?”
Her silence answered before she did.
“I knew the trial wasn’t technically complete.”
“Why approve it?”
She stared across the cemetery.
“Because we were trying to close the quarter.”
The sentence came out flat.
I could hear how many times she had already said it to herself.
“And because my team was behind.”
“And because of your bonus.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“And because I didn’t want my director asking why my numbers were down again.”
I let that sit.
“What happened?”
“The hospital caught the inconsistency.”
“Did they lose money?”
“No.”
“Was anyone harmed?”
“No.”
“Then why quit?”
“Because Rachel put me on a performance plan.”
“That’s not the same thing as being fired.”
“I know.”
“You could have stayed.”
“I know.”
“You could have fixed it.”
“I know.”
I stopped.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Please stop saying the reasonable things.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
“I couldn’t walk back into that office.”
“Why?”
“Because everybody knew.”
There it was again.
Not the mistake.
The audience.
I looked at Dad’s name carved in granite.
“You really do hate people knowing you’re imperfect.”
Jenna gave a tired laugh.
“That’s rich coming from the woman who hid a seven-figure company sale from her entire family.”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
“Fair.”
“Thank you.”
“No, not thank you.”
I nudged her shoulder with mine.
“You still handled this terribly.”
“I know.”
“And your letter was cruel.”
Her eyes widened.
“Cruel?”
“Yes.”
“I said I wasn’t doing anything stupid.”
“After the first line.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You wrote, Lil, I’m sorry.”
“I was apologizing.”
“You cannot begin a letter like that and then disappear.”
She covered her face with both hands.
“Oh God.”
“Exactly.”
“I really didn’t think that through.”
“No.”
“I thought you’d read the whole thing.”
“Evan read it.”
Her hands dropped.
“What?”
“He found it.”
Her face changed completely.
“What was he doing there?”
“Getting his things.”
She stared at me.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, he said tonight.”
“It is tonight.”
She checked the sky as if time had betrayed her.
The light had begun fading behind the bare trees.
“Oh.”
“He called me.”
She closed her eyes again.
“He thinks I’m insane.”
“He was scared.”
That landed.
Her posture folded slightly.
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
She stared at her boots.
For a while there was only the distant rush of traffic beyond the cemetery wall.
A groundskeeper drove a small utility cart along another row of graves and lifted one hand when he saw us.
I waved automatically.
Jenna did not.
“What did Evan say?” she asked.
“Mostly that he was worried.”
“Did he sound angry?”
“Yes.”
Her mouth twisted.
“That sounds right.”
“He also sounded like someone who still cares what happens to you.”
She looked at me sharply.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not matchmaking.”
“You are terrible at subtlety.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re doing the face.”
“What face?”
“The hopeful face.”
“I do not have a hopeful face.”
“You do.”
She almost smiled.
Then the smile disappeared.
“I don’t want him back because I scared him.”
“Good.”
She frowned.
“I mean, not good that you scared him.”
“I understood.”
“I mean don’t use today as leverage.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I know.”
The fact that she said it quietly made me look at her.
She picked mud from one thumbnail.
“I know you wouldn’t.”
I looked away before she could see how much that mattered.
“What are you going to do about the job?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have savings?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
She gave me a look.
“Sorry.”
“You almost enjoyed that.”
“A little.”
She leaned her head back against the stone.
“I have maybe four months if I’m careful.”
“Mortgage included?”
“No.”
“Jenna.”
“I know.”
“The house has to go.”
“I said I’m selling it.”
“And the contractor?”
May you like
“I’m going to fix the leak before listing.”
“With what money?”
