Chapter 14: Showroom Floor

My father sold flooring from a showroom on Brandt Pike with forty carpet samples in the window.

I walked in at noon on Monday in my pharmacy smock, with the two sleeves in my hand.

A couple stood in the middle of the floor, arguing softly over two shades of gray laminate.

My father stood beside them in his quarter-zip with his hands folded.

"Either one will wear beautifully," he said. "I put it in my own condo."

He saw me, and his smile stayed where it was.

"Lace," he said. "Honey. What a surprise."

"Hi, Dad."

"Can it wait? I'm with clients."

"It won't take long."

His girlfriend sat at the front desk with a salad, and she had her phone propped against the pen cup.

She looked up and smiled at me, and I saw the little red light come on.

"Go ahead," I said to her. "You'll want this."

"Lacey," my father said, in the voice he used on children.

"I found something in Crispin's desk," I said. "Two checks. I thought you should hear what's on yours."

The couple stopped arguing.

My father's face went stiff.

"That's private."

"Not anymore."

I took out the second sleeve and held it up so the light through the window caught it.

"Pay to the order of Crispin Rainey, five thousand dollars and no cents," I read. "Signed Curtis Swanson. August sixteenth."

"Lacey, stop."

"Memo: For Lacey. Take her. Keep her away from the condo."

The showroom was very quiet.

Somewhere a ceiling fan ticked.

The woman in the laminate couple put a hand over her mouth.

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