Chapter 10: Petty Cash

"Don't do anything," Dez said on the porch. "I mean it this time. Go to work like it's a normal day."

"It's never a normal day."

"Go to work like it's a Tuesday."

"It's Wednesday."

"Devlin."

"Fine," I said. "Like it's a Tuesday."

He didn't laugh.

He went down the steps two at a time and didn't look back.

I didn't sleep.

At eight I rode into the Loop with Dad's driver.

I sat at my desk with my headset on and my hands flat so they'd stay still.

The petty-cash cards lived in a gray lockbox in the finance office.

There were three.

Finance had one.

Facilities had one.

And Verity's assistant had the third, for flowers, coffee, car service and whatever else Verity needed in a hurry.

Verity's assistant sat ten feet from me.

She was maybe twenty-six, with a long brown ponytail and two phones.

She ate almonds out of a bag in her drawer all day long.

She'd brought me a coffee on my first morning without asking how I took it.

She'd gotten it right.

At two, a lawyer from the foundation's outside firm came up with a man from the bank.

They went into Verity's office.

The door closed.

I could see them through the frosted glass, three shapes leaning over the desk.

At two-forty, Verity came out.

She'd been crying.

Or she wanted us to think so.

"Everyone," she said. "In the big conference room, please. All staff. Now."

There were thirty-one of us.

We filled every chair, and the tip line people stood along the back wall.

The woman with the reading glasses stood next to me and put her hand under my elbow without looking at me.

Verity stood at the head of the table.

She was in white, like always, a white silk blouse and white trousers.

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