Chapter 13: Welcome, Cal

Cal's POV

The boardroom on the second floor had a long oak table, eight leather chairs and a screen on the wall.

Clarissa sat alone on the near side of it with Walter's iPad in front of her and her hands flat on the case.

I sat in the first row of folding chairs behind her, where I could see the back of her neck.

She had put her hair up the way she wore it for work, and one piece had come loose.

I wanted to tuck it back, and I kept my hands on my knees.

Deborah sat in the middle of the board's side in a grey suit, with four board members around her.

The woman who would not look at the stills in the lobby sat at her left and looked at the table.

In my jacket, next to the index card, was the envelope from the fire crew in Alaska.

It had come Monday, and I had not answered it, and I had not thrown it out.

"Miss Breuer," Deborah said. "The board asked for documentation of your relationship to Mr. Weatherhead."

"I brought some," Clarissa said. "May I use the screen?"

A man in a tie cabled the iPad to the wall without being told how.

Clarissa touched the screen once and sat back.

Walter's face filled the wall, forty-four years old, in his Tigers cap, with his hand over the lens.

I had not heard his voice since the funeral home, and my stomach turned over.

"Cal, buddy, you're eleven," Walter said to the room. "You're ours because we say so, you hear me?"

Two of the board members looked at their laps.

When the little girl's voice asked off-screen if I could have her swing, someone coughed hard.

Keep reading free with an account. Start Everyone Thinks I'm Thirsting Over My Own Brother from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.