I know I’ve got a frown on my face now. It can’t be helped. “I have no idea.”
* * *
“He tripped. Hit his head,”I tell Clive, leaving off the part about the drinking.
“Seriously?” he asks, looking astonished.
“That’s the word on the street. Or in this case, the break room.” I chuckle.
“Is he okay?”
“That, I can’t say. Hopefully. I’m going to see if I can visit him over lunch.”
“Yeah?” Clive sighs. “Maybe we should all go.”
“I’m not sure where they took him. It’s a good idea, but maybe not all at once.”
“True.” He nods like he’s giving that some thought. “Why don’t I call around to see where he is, and we can go together.”
This is a surprise. “Sure. That’d be great. Thank you, Clive.”
If the look of sincere shock on his face tells me anything, it’s that I must not have been very nice to the guy. Didn’t I ever thank him? Jesus. No wonder he hates me.
“He’s got two daughters. I wonder if they know.”
That’s a good question. His ex-wife doesn’t live in New York, and neither do the girls. “I think they’re both back in Wisconsin.”
Clive has a pen in hand ready to add something to his list. I’ve seen it a million times. The guy loves his lists. “Should I try to find them?”
“Nah. We can ask Sam about that over lunch.”
“Right. Good plan.”
I’m out of his fancy office into my tiny one, ready to get shit done because the sooner I get throughmylist, the sooner I can get Sky and then cook my girl some dinner.
My two girls.
Now that has a nice ring to it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alison
“Why didI say yes to this?” I’ve walked up to the front door of his building three times and walked away twice. “I shouldn’t be here.” This is wrong. But I really want to see Sky, not to mention the fact that I’m hungry.
I know, excuses, excuses.
In my defense, with all of the hullabaloo today, I didn’t get lunch. I ate an old granola bar that I found at the bottom of my purse. Plus I spent the afternoon talking with five more people, but I couldn’t get any real information out of them because all they wanted to talk about was Sam.
Correction: I did get some information out of them. I guess Sam getting injured has made some of them rather sentimental. A few tears were even shed as they regaled me with stories about Sam being the funniest, best boss in the entire world. I guess it’s possible.
Mo, one of the staff who works in the art department, said something kind of interesting. I almost missed it, but thankfully I didn’t. She said, “That poor man. I feel so sorry for him. He’s got no one. It’s no wonder he searches the break room fridge for something good to eat.”
The urge to choke a little bit was strong. And laugh. At least that takes off number three from my list of complaints. I wonder how many other people knew it was Sam stealing lunches. Probably everyone. I mean, who would complain about the boss doing something like that?
I guess whoever wrote up the green folder complained. And maybe they already knew it was Sam but didn’t want to name names. And if that’s the case, it’s reasonable to assume he or she knows who has been stealing ideas as well.
Now all I need to figure out is who created this folder.
