Chapter 8: The Power Cut

The storm came in from the harbor at seven, and by seven-fifteen the whole annex went dark.

I was alone at my desk with half a schedule on my screen and a thunderclap still ringing in the windows.

"Colby?"

Keith's voice came from the dark of his office door.

"Here."

"Stay there. I have a flashlight somewhere. In theory."

I heard drawers opening, and a muffled curse, and then a small yellow circle swung across the ceiling.

He came out holding the flashlight in his teeth and a box of emergency candles under one arm.

He set the box on my desk and took the flashlight out of his mouth.

"Don't tell anyone I did that."

"I'll put it on the calendar."

He lit three candles with a long fireplace match, and the lobby turned gold and small.

The rain beat against the glass.

Everyone else had gone home hours ago.

I sat on the edge of my desk, and Keith leaned on the opposite wall.

Neither of us said anything for a while.

It was easier in the dark.

"I should have said something," Keith said.

He was looking at the candle, not at me.

"About what?"

"The first two months. Every time they talked over you in a meeting."

"Every time Saltonstall handed you a coffee cup and walked away." His jaw worked. "I watched it happen about forty times."

"You counted?"

"I wrote you an email after every one. I deleted every one."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because I was new. Because you hadn't asked."

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