Chapter 5: The Desk

On Monday morning I lifted the glass lid off the display case in the Foundation lobby and took out my seven notebooks.

They had sat in that case for three years under a brass plate that read The Hollin Family Innovation Gift.

The receptionist stood up behind her desk. "Ms. Hollin, I'm so sorry, but Mrs. Hollin said you weren't to come upstairs."

"I'm not going upstairs."

"The notebooks are Foundation property."

"They have my handwriting on every page," I said. "Look at the corners. That's coffee from a garage."

She didn't argue.

The security guard by the elevators took a step toward me and then stopped.

I had stacked the notebooks in the crook of my arm and was already walking to the door.

Then the elevator opened and Colin came out of it, fast, with his tie loose.

"Mel." He kept his voice low and pleasant. "Put those down. We'll talk in my office."

"No."

"You can't be here. You'll make this harder on yourself."

"Harder than what?"

People had started to lean over the mezzanine rail above us.

A development officer. Two interns. The woman who ran donor events and always remembered my coffee order.

All of them had seen the clip.

"I'm here for my notebooks," I said. "And to ask you something in front of everyone, since you like a crowd."

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