He Hid Me Twelve Years and Paraded Her, So I Quit Both novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Two Boxes

Nell packs at the penthouse and Everett tells her nobody else will hire her; Bea says Walter Stroud wants to meet her.

The doorman at Everett's building had greeted me by name for eight years.

He did it again that afternoon, and then he looked at my face and stopped.

"Ms. Garrity, can I carry something up for you?"

"No, thank you," I said. "I'm only here for my things. My key is on his desk, so could you let me in?"

He took the spare from the lobby drawer without a question.

Twelve years, and there was almost nothing in that penthouse that was mine.

My name was not on the lease, the mail or the buzzer.

When his father visited, I had spent the afternoon at a coffee shop, because Everett said it was easier.

I took two cardboard boxes from the storage closet and went through the rooms.

I packed my winter coat, the good lamp from my first apartment, and the framed photo of my mother outside her bakery.

I left the necklace he had given me last Christmas on the dresser.

I was taping the second box when I heard the front door.

"Nell?"

Everett came down the hall with his tie already loosened and his face arranged into the one he used on clients.

He stopped in the bedroom doorway and looked at the boxes.

"Okay," he said. "You're upset. I get it. I should have told you about Lacey before the meeting."

"Told me what?"

"That the board pushed for her. I fought them. I really did."

"You called her your favorite," I said.

"It was a line. I needed the room to buy it."

"Did you need the room to buy that I'm nobody?"

He crossed the floor and took my hands in both of his, warm and sure, which had always worked on me.

"Don't be dramatic. Come on. You know I'd give you the whole building if I could. Two more quarters, that's all I'm asking."

"I've waited eight quarters."

"And you were a champion about it. That's why I love you."

I took my hands back.

He watched me do it, and I saw the moment when he decided to stop being kind.

"Nell, take your resignation back tonight. I'll tell HR you were overwrought. Nobody has to know."

"They all know," I said. "Two of your assistants watched me do it."

"Then they'll forget by Friday." His voice dropped. "You think someone else is going to hire you? Every reference you have is me."

"I built the Harlan account."

"With my name on the pitch."

He picked up the box on the bed and carried it back to the closet.

I picked up the other one and walked out through the living room.

He followed me into the hall.

"Put that down. You're not leaving with that."

"It's my coat and my mother's picture. The other box can stay."

"You're making a scene."

"Then make one back," I said. "Say it louder."

The elevator opened.

An older woman from the unit across the hall was standing inside it with her small dog, and she had clearly heard every word.

Everett saw her and put his hands in his pockets.

"Good evening," he said to her, with the client smile. "Lovely night."

"Is everything all right, dear?" she asked me.

"No," I said. "But it will be."

I stepped in beside her and pressed the lobby button.

The doors closed on Everett's face, and the last thing I saw was his mouth saying my name.

In the lobby, the doorman held the front door open and took the box out of my arms without a word.

He walked me all the way to the curb and flagged a cab.

I thanked him, and I did not trust my voice to say more.

In the cab I opened my phone and finally read the email from the stranger.

It was short.

Ms. Garrity, I'm told the last three never reached you. My name is Jonah Calloway, and I run Calloway Partners.

I have written to you three times since 2019, once by post and twice by email.

I'd like to hire you as director of strategy at double your current pay.

No pressure and no strings. If you'd rather throw this out, I understand.

My number is below.

I read it twice.

I had never seen any of the first three.

I did not call him yet.

Bea Fenner lived in Bridgeport, in a two-flat with a green door and a porch full of tomato plants.

She had run the chairman's office at Stroud Group for twenty-five years before she retired, and she had been the first person to ever ask me about my life.

She was waiting on the porch with her glasses pushed up in her gray curls, and she looked at my one box and did not ask a single question.

"The upstairs room's made up," she said. "There's lasagna."

I put the box down on the porch and sat next to it.

Then I cried for the first time all day, and Bea sat beside me with her hand on my back until I stopped.

Inside, she put a plate in front of me and took the chair across the table.

"Eat," she said. "Then I have to tell you something, and you won't like how it sounds."

"Everett already told me everyone would forget me by Friday."

"It isn't about Everett." She folded her napkin in half. "Walter Stroud called the house phone an hour ago."

"Walter? The chairman?"

"He asked for you by name," Bea said. "He says he has waited twelve years to meet you, and he'd like you at his house at ten tomorrow."

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