We won’t be moving forward with the investment.”
Grant’s confidence disappeared.
The deal had been large.
His firm expected access to our newest platform and a seat at the table when we expanded overseas.
He had assumed money made him untouchable.
“You’re throwing away millions because I complained about a courier?”
“No.
I’m walking away because you showed me what happens to people when you think they have less power than you.”
Grant looked at Maya for support.
She held the dining-room door open.
He left without another word.
When the front door closed behind him, Charlotte placed the photograph back on the table.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.
“Yes, I did.”
“Because of prom?”
“Because he was wrong.
Prom only taught me not to pretend I didn’t see it.”
Her phone rang again.
She answered immediately.
The dispatcher’s voice was loud enough for us to hear.
“Did the customer complain? You’ve been parked at that address for twelve minutes.”
Charlotte turned away, humiliated all over again.
“I’m leaving now.
The customer knew me from school.”
“That isn’t my problem.
Finish the route or don’t bother logging in tomorrow.”
The call ended.
Charlotte closed her eyes.
“I have to go.”
I reached for my wallet, but she saw the movement and shook her head.
“Please don’t.”
“It’s a tip.”
“Not the kind you’re about to give me.”
There was a trace of the old Charlotte in her voice—gentle, but unwilling to be pitied.
I put the wallet away.
“Then let me replace the missing drink.”
That earned the smallest smile.
“Still trying to fix everything?”
“I’m new at it.”
Maya brought a sealed bottle from the kitchen.
Charlotte placed it with the order and photographed the bag from an angle that hid everything readable on the receipt.
Before she left, I asked one question.
“Can we talk when your shift is over?”
Her guard returned.
“About what?”
“About what happened after you left town.”
“That’s a long story.”
“You once gave me an entire evening.
I can give you an hour.”
She studied my face, perhaps searching for the lonely boy she remembered.
“There’s a diner near the old highway,” she said.
“It stays open all night.
I finish at two.”
At two fifteen, Charlotte entered the diner carrying the smell of rain and fried food.
I had chosen a booth in the back, away from the windows.
She had changed out of the delivery jacket but still wore the silver bracelet.
