Page 23 of Body of Trust

“Amazing publicity,” Sarah chimes in.

“And you three, along with myself, are part of the audit team.”

My colleagues and I look around at each other. Eric seems confused and then asks about special compensation. Sarah starts asking questions about what the assignment entails. I sit, surprised. For me, this is a huge deal. I’ve never been part of a selective team, nor have I witnessed a live lottery drawing.

“Why us?” I ask, making Eric and Sarah go silent. I realize I just put a damper on their parade by asking the question. “I mean … I’ve only been here a few years, where so many out there have worked here for decades.”

DeLuca doesn’t seem bothered by the question. “This will be a regular thing, so I have many opportunities to spread the love around the office. You three were the first names out of my hat,” he jokes with a big laugh.

DeLuca continues with some basic details about the drawing, and I listen on. When the meeting is over, Sarah and Eric file out, but I am told to remain.

“Amelia,” my boss says. He closes the door slightly, leaving it open a crack.

He makes his way behind the desk again, this time taking a seat in his large black office chair. He glances at the door, presumably to check that no one is there, and then locks his hands together as he leans forward and speaks in a quiet voice, “I hope you don’t mind that I put you on the audit team.” His eyes narrow in assessment of my reaction.

“I’m honored. This is a new experience for me.”

“Good. Good,” he assures himself. “I didn’t know if you would be here for the news. I need to know you’ll be there on the big day. I can’t have you sick … or away for family business.”

I smile at his odd comment. “Never.”

He looks toward the door again and then back to me. “I heard about what happened with your father. I’m glad he made it out safely.”

My smile fades. “I didn’t know it was public knowledge.”

“It’s not. I heard from a friend. Your father and I are well connected. Goes back to the old days in Long Island City.”

A wave of familiarity at my father’s stories of the good old days warms me. “He always speaks highly of your friendship.”

“And I, him,” Mr. DeLuca says. “That’s why I’d like to send him something as a get-well gift. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Get well?” I ask in horror. “Is he sick?”

“I assumed you’d seen him,” he says, his eyes shifting as he sits back in his chair.

“No, he’s …” I halt. I don’t know where my father is, but that doesn’t mean everyone needs to know that. I reverse course and say, “I don’t live at home anymore. When I talk to him today, I’ll ask how he’s feeling.”

He frowns as he nods into his knuckles that are now resting against his mouth. “Please send my regards.”

My thumbs tap my notebook as we stare at each other in an awkward silence.

I stand from my chair. “If that’s all, then I’ll go back to my cubicle.”

His fingers rise from his clenched fist for a moment to dismiss me. “That’s all. And if you could, I’d like the files you’re working on by the end of the day.”

“Yes, sir.” I walk to the door and let myself out.

When I started here as a junior auditor, I enjoyed the monotony. Going through data with a fine-tooth comb, connecting the pieces of business funds, comes easily to me. With mathematics, you can always find the answer. If it doesn’t present itself on the first try, you can use another equation.

I take a seat at my cubicle and look at the photo of my family that sits on my desk. It was taken at the holiday brunch at Villa Russo. Mom is in her favorite emerald pantsuit while Dad stands, handsome, in a navy pinstripe. Gia and I are wearing different shades of red—a coincidence that made for a picture-perfect family.

What have you gotten us into, Dad?

I call my mother, as I have been all day, as promised. This time, my voice is urgent.

“Is Dad hurt?” I ask as soon as she picks up.

There’s a pause. I can hear the sound of the local news on in the background as she takes a moment to respond. “Why would you ask such a thing?”