Using My Friend's Cast-offs to Become Successful novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Desk By The Window

Susie works beside Benedict while Camryn's mother calls her a stray in front of the staff, and Susie answers; he asks who taught her to say thank you like that.

The brownstone was not an office.

It was his home, and the front room had been turned into a desk with two chairs.

"The firm is being moved," Benedict said. "Until Friday, this is where I work."

He did not explain more, and I did not ask.

He put a paper cup in my hand without looking up.

"Sit. You'll start on the trucking file."

"Mr. Amesbury, I've never read a file like that."

"Good. You'll read it like a person."

He pushed a stack across the desk.

It was forty pages on a trucking company that was losing money on every delivery.

I read the first page twice.

On the third page I stopped.

"This number is wrong," I said.

He looked up.

"The fuel line. It says the cost per mile went down, but the total went up. Somebody added the same invoice twice."

For a second he said nothing.

Then he pulled the page toward him and ran his finger down the column.

"Eleven weeks that number has been sitting there," he said quietly.

"Who checked it?"

"A team of four."

"Then they didn't read it like people."

The corner of his mouth moved.

It wasn't a smile, but it was close.

By nine, I had found two more mistakes, and he had stopped pretending to check his phone.

By ten, someone was knocking.

A woman from his staff opened the door with an apology already on her face.

"Mr. Amesbury, Mrs. Ellingwood is here. And her daughter. They're in the lobby of the temporary office."

"The lobby is a hallway," Benedict said.

"She says she's here to see the project."

Benedict's face went flat.

He stood up and buttoned his jacket.

"Susie. Come with me."

"I'm the project," I said.

"Yes."

We walked to a narrow hall where six employees had set up folding tables.

Miriam Ellingwood stood in the middle of them in a camel coat and pearls, holding a basket wrapped in cellophane.

Camryn was beside her in white, with her phone out.

"Benedict," Miriam said, and kissed the air near his cheek. "You look tired."

"Miriam."

"We brought a little basket. For the staff. And for Susie."

She turned to me with a bright, careful face.

"Susie, dear. How are you finding it?"

"Busy," I said. "Thank you for the basket."

"Camryn found you such a lovely opportunity," Miriam told the room. "We do try, at the foundation, to lift up strays."

Nobody breathed.

The six employees looked at their tables.

"It's what we do," Miriam added. "Camryn's friends are always so grateful. We don't ask for anything."

Camryn lifted her phone and smiled at me over the screen.

"Say thank you again, Susie. I'm posting."

I looked at her.

I looked at the cellophane basket, which held a jar of artisanal honey, a scented candle and a tin of tea.

I took the basket from Miriam with both hands.

"Mrs. Ellingwood," I said clearly. "This is very kind. I'm going to make sure everyone here has some of this honey."

I turned to the room.

"Mrs. Ellingwood was just explaining that her family donates things it doesn't want. Would anyone like a candle? She's had it since Christmas."

A woman at the back made a noise she tried to swallow.

Miriam's smile did not move.

"The tag is still on it," I added, and held the candle up so the room could see the sticker.

Marked down. Seventy percent off.

A man laughed outright.

Then three of them did.

Camryn's phone slid an inch lower.

"It's a gift," Miriam said, in a voice that had lost its warmth.

"Of course," I said. "I'm grateful."

I put the basket on a folding table.

"Camryn, would you like to hold the camera steady? I think you've cut off your mother's good side."

Camryn lowered the phone altogether.

Her ears had gone pink.

"Benedict," Miriam said, turning on him, "I expect this girl is a temporary arrangement."

"She is on payroll," Benedict said. "At the rate you set for your daughter."

His voice was perfectly calm.

"You are welcome to leave the basket."

Miriam turned and walked out, and Camryn went after her, and one of the employees said, very softly, "Oh, that was good."

Benedict did not look at them.

He looked at me.

I had my hands flat against my skirt so no one could see them shake.

"Come back to the desk," he said.

We didn't speak on the way.

When the door closed he leaned against the edge of his desk and folded his arms.

"Who taught you to say thank you like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're signing a receipt."

I thought about it.

"My mother," I said.

"She works night shifts at a hospital in Worcester, and families leave her their leftover food."

"She says every gift gets a thank-you, and the person who gave it gets a bill."

He studied me for a long moment.

Then, for the first time, Benedict Amesbury laughed.

It was low and short and a little rusty.

"Start the trucking call at noon," he said. "I want you on it."

I went back to the desk with my face burning, and I was smiling the entire time.

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