Shelley’s cheeks flush dark red.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” one of the society women asks, looking at me in faint alarm. She seems to be the leader of the group. Her white hair is short and tightly curled, and the shiny button on her dark-green jacket gleams in the dim light.
“A volunteer we had to dismiss,” Shelley says quickly. “Mentally unstable,” she adds in an undertone.
“I am not!” I say fiercely. “My name is Emily, ma’am,” I add to the society woman. “I volunteered here earlier this summer, and I was Jim’s caregiver for a while.”
“Oh,Emily!” the woman says. Her suspicious frown melts away. “Of course.” She holds out a hand to me. “I’m Elaine MacQuarrie. I think we met at one of the events. Jim told me all about you,” she adds pleasantly. “He said you designed that fabulous new exhibit, the one children can take photos with.”
I smile. “Yes, ma’am. And I organized the Barrel Into Summer event, and the Canada Day event. With Trey and Jim’s help, I mean.”
“She means she pitched in,” Shelley says.
I glare at her. “I didn’tpitch in. I organized everything. And you didn’t even want me to do the events in the first place.”
Shelley makes a dismissive noise and shoots the society women an incredulous look, as though she expects them to agree with her. But instead, all three women are frowning at her.
“Is that true?” asks Elaine.
Shelley lets out another scoff. “Of course not.”
“No? Then who was the caterer for the Canada Day event?”I demand. “What was the prize for the scavenger hunt? What brands of soda did we sell?” Shelley’s mouth moves soundlessly for a moment, and she looks at the society women again, as though she expects them to jump in. “You can’t tell me,” I snap, “because you have no idea. You sit in your office all day scrolling through Facebook, letting this beautiful museum go to waste. You don’t care about any of it! You just want to get paid to do nothing.”
A muscle twitches furiously in Shelley’s jaw, and her whole face has turned a red-purple color. I can sense how badly she wants to shout at me, but she also seems keenly aware that the society women are watching her.
“This is very inappropriate, Emily,” she says instead, in an exaggeratedly patient, condescending voice. “We’re all very grateful for your volunteer work, but what you don’t seem to understand is that there’s a little more to running a museum than pickingsoda brands. I’m terribly sorry for the disruption, ladies,” she adds to the society women. She shakes her head regretfully. “All this, on the day after Jim’s death—”
“You didn’t give adamnabout Jim,” I say. “How dare you pretend like you cared about him? Don’t you have any shame?”
“Ridiculous,” Shelley says, shaking her head in that stupid way again. “Ridiculous.”
“It is ridiculous,” I say. “It’s ridiculous that you’re paid to scroll through Facebook in your office all day while volunteers do all the work. Trey is by far the best part of this place, and yet the minute you had the chance to give out proper salaries, you threw them at your daughter and her friend instead of him!” I let out a sharp laugh as I realize how terrible it actually is. I turn to thesociety women abruptly. “You should hire someone else as manager. This museum deserves someone who’ll treat it with the care it deserves.”
“Hear, hear,” says a deep voice behind us. Trey is leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, looking as though he’s been standing there for quite a while. “And if it helps your decision-making process,” he adds, smiling charmingly at the society ladies, “I plan to resign immediately if you don’t.”
I grin at him and turn back to the women, breathing quicker with triumph. Elaine and the others exchange uncertain glances. They don’t seem to know quite what to make of the whole situation.
“This is insane,” Shelley says, red with fury. “You two are slandering me. I could have you up oncharges.”
Trey rolls his eyes. “You do that.”
A beat of awkward silence falls; the only sound is the heavy huff of Shelley’s breath. The tourist family who were watching Trey earlier poke their heads into the room, then back out immediately when they see all of us standing there.
Smart family.
“Well,” Elaine says finally. Then again, “Well.” She glances at the other two society women. “I suppose we’ll—take this back and discuss it.”
“You can’t be serious!” Shelley snaps.
She seems to realize right away that it’s a mistake. She tries to backtrack hastily, adopting a calm, pleasant tone that doesn’t match her reddened face. “What I mean is, of course we should all discuss it, obviously.” She draws a circle with her hand to indicateherself and the society women. “If there are any problems at the museum, I’m perfectly happy to fix them. Not that I think we’ll find anything worth fixing.”
Elaine’s eyebrows lift. Again, I can see Shelley realize she’s made a mistake, but it’s too late—the words are out. What Shelley meant, I’m sure, is that she wouldn’t find any problems thatneededfixing. But that’s not what she said. And all the society women heard it.
“Hmm.” Elaine frowns at her, and the tiniest flicker of distaste crosses her face, one that’s mirrored on the faces of the other two. They aren’t stupid, these women, and it’s clear they care deeply about their society. Shelley’s mediocre job performance over the past few years can’t have escaped them.
Perhaps Shelley realizes it, because a fresh wave of mottled color perfuses her face. “This is ridiculous,” she says again. “I have other job options, you know. I could make twice the money I make here managing the call center in Charlottetown. They already offered me the job,” she adds pointedly. “And I was going to turn it down because of my dedication to this place, but if my work is no longerappreciated—”
“Perhaps that would be best,” Elaine interrupts.
