She opens the door and gives me a weary smile.
“What will you do next?” I ask softly.
Tracy pulls the door open wider, beckoning me inside. “I was just on the phone with Harold Cooper’s wife, begging her to call for a vote of no confidence in Mr. Dawson. Besides that? There’s not much Icando. I have no proof of anything, no evidence of wrongdoing or ill intent I’d be able to pin to Robert or Dougie’s sleeve.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it. Guilt slithers through my veins like a cold shot of espresso. “I just… can’t help you more than I already have.”
Her eyes turn pitying. “What did I tell you all those years ago about that unnecessary apologizing, Casey?” She steps forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know what Alex did, what exactly you’re protecting him from. But Idoknow you tried your best to break a pattern of complicity. That’s something to be proud of.”
“I’m still keeping secrets,” I whisper.
“Because you love him.” She smiles softly.
“He’s with Robert now, today,” I tell her. “I think it’s too late.”
Tracy sighs. “Then it’s too late.”
To stop myself from crying, I redirect. “You didn’t seem at all surprised when Don said it should have been me that got Alex’s job. Did you know I applied for that?”
Tracy nods. “Of course I knew one of my own was looking around.”
I nod. “Did you put me up for the travel cost manager position?” I ask.
After a beat, she admits, “Of course I did.”
I nod again and breathe out, “Thank you,” accompanied by half a sob. “For pulling me up the ladder.”
“You know the CEO of CycleBar just got divorced?” Benny says. He picks up my pencil holder, upturns it, and shakes out a unicorn-shaped eraser he proceeds to glare at. “I’ll be sure to keep you updated on her whereabouts in proximity to our COO.”
“You better,” I say, dumping an entire drawer full of paperwork into the recycling bin.
“Casey,” Fari says, her tone stressed. “I really don’t know if I have room forallthese plants—”
“Ohmigodfine.” Benny grabs the heartleaf philodendron and the monstera and storms back to his desk.
“Don’t say I never gave you anything!” I call after him.
“Don’t say I never gaveyouanything!” he shouts back.
My tote bag of meager office belongings comes with me to my HR exit interview. It’s boring and stupid, but Molly is nice and not boringorstupid, so I answer all her questions even though they are basically the same question rephrased every time.
On my way out, I run into Dougie Dawson.
He’s walking in the opposite direction and nods once before his eyes catch mine in recognition. His face is still purple, and his belly is still round. We both slow, watching each other from half a foot away.
“You,” he says. “The finance girl.”
“Hello, Mr. Dawson. Casey Maitland, yes.”
“You’re friendly with Alex Harrison.” His eyes cloud with bitter resentment he’s so clearly incapable of keeping at bay. “Be carefulwith that family, girl. Robert Harrison is the sneakiest son of a bitch New York City ever saw. His son is no different.”
“They’re not a family,” I say quietly. “And Alex is nothing like his father.”
Dougie makes a disbelieving face. “He is just as ambitious. That much was made obvious during the BTH presentation.”
In a split-second decision that I quite literally make on my way out the door, I decide to poke the bear. “Yes, well, I suppose that kind of professional drive isn’t for everyone. I hear you’re planning to retire soon?”
Dougie narrows his eyes. “That’s not for you to know.”
