Scandalous novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Frog Jokes

Junie takes to Jillian and laughs for the first time in months, and Jillian copies her first file and hates herself. Hook: Burke says her last employer closed in 2019.

By Wednesday I knew three things about Burke Hartwell.

He took his coffee black, he read every contract himself, and he never raised his voice.

He didn't need to.

When the vice president of operations missed a number, Burke just said, "Again," and the room got colder.

I had spent twenty-four years being told this man was a monster.

So far he was merely terrifying.

"Ms. Lowe," he said from the doorway of his office at six p.m. "Come in."

I carried my notebook and my pen.

The pen was recording, and I had never felt sicker.

Nolan had texted at noon: Two files by Friday, or your father hears you stalled.

"Junie's nanny is stuck in traffic," he said. "I have a call at six fifteen. Can you sit with her ten minutes?"

"That isn't in my job description."

"No," he said. "It's a favor."

Nobody had told me he asked for favors.

Junie was in the conference room, building a tower out of binder clips.

She did not look up when I sat across from her.

"My dad says you're nice," she said.

"Your dad said that?"

"He said 'she is competent.' My nanny says that's how grown-ups say nice."

"Your nanny sounds smart."

"She's not. She thinks frogs are reptiles."

"Frogs are amphibians."

Junie finally looked at me, wide-eyed, with an expression of pure respect.

"Nobody knows that," she said.

"I know a lot about frogs."

She stacked another binder clip on the tower, and it leaned.

"My mom was good at towers," she said.

She said it flatly.

"Was she?"

"She died. When I was four. Dad doesn't like it when I say it at work."

"You can say it to me."

"Okay." She considered the tower. "Do you have a mom?"

"Yes. She's worried about me all the time."

"That's nice," Junie said, and put the next clip on very carefully.

I felt something twist under my ribs that had nothing to do with the plan.

"What else do you know about frogs?"

I thought hard.

"Like why did the frog take the bus to work?"

"Why?"

"Because his car got toad."

There was a long silence.

Then Junie let out a snort, a real one, helpless and loud.

She slapped her hand over her mouth, but it kept coming.

She laughed until she slid off the chair, and I laughed too, because I couldn't help it.

In the doorway, Burke stood with his phone still in his hand.

He had stopped mid-sentence on his call, and his face was open in a way I had not seen.

"I have to go," he said into the phone, and hung up.

"Dad! Dad, she said the frog got toad."

"I heard," he said quietly.

He looked at his daughter, then at me.

"She hasn't laughed like that since the spring before last."

I didn't know what to say.

So I said nothing, and he went back into his office.

At nine thirty, after Junie and the nanny were gone, I let myself into his office.

I had told him I needed to leave the reports on his desk.

The overhead light was off, with the city shining through the glass.

His laptop was closed but his desk drawers were not locked.

The pen in my hand weighed a hundred pounds.

I opened the second drawer and found a folder labeled with a date three years old.

RUDDOCK METALS, it said in black marker.

My own last name, in his handwriting.

My hands went cold.

Inside were loan papers, a bank letter, and a page stapled to the top with a note in small neat script.

I photographed each page with my phone, my breath coming fast.

The photos were blurry from my shaking hands, and I did it anyway, because I was afraid of what waited at home if I came back with nothing.

I put the folder back exactly as it was.

Then I stood in the dark, hating myself, with the proof I had been sent to steal in my pocket.

Something in the corner of the glass moved.

I looked up.

Burke's reflection stood in the doorway behind me, still in his suit, holding Junie's forgotten backpack.

I didn't breathe.

"Ms. Lowe," he said. "Something you're looking for?"

"Reports," I said. "I left them on your desk."

"So I see."

He crossed the room slowly and set the backpack on the chair.

"Your resume says you worked at Arbor and Quill Marketing."

"Yes."

"I called them at six o'clock to thank them for the reference."

My mouth went dry.

"They closed in 2019," Burke said.

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