Colton’s fist connected with Evan’s jaw in a dull thud that sent Evan reeling backward. He tried to catch himself with one hand, but it slipped on the polished surface of his desk. Instead, he careened sideways and crashed to the floor, bringing with him a crystal decanter and an expensive-looking lamp.
The door flew open, and Sarah ran in. “Evan!”
Colton casually picked up Evan’s untouched whiskey and shot it back. The burn brought a satisfying rasp to his voice. “He’ll live,” he said. Then, looking down at Evan on the floor. “You have until five o’clock tomorrow to start the money transfer or—”
“What is this?” Sarah had spoken quietly from the other side of the desk. In her hand was the paper that Jack had given Evan.
Evan scrambled to stand. “Give me that.”
“What is this?” Sarah demanded, louder now.
“It’s none of your business.” Evan lunged for the paper.
Sarah backed up, eyes filling with tears. “None of my business? How many women are you sleeping with?”
Colton blinked. Jack did a double take. “Wait . . . are—are you sleeping with him too?”
“You said you were going to leave your wife for me,” Sarah whispered.
Blood dripped from the corner of Evan’s eye, and his chest shook with spiteful gulps of air. “Get out. All of you.”
“You lying bastard. You used me.” Sarah turned her back on him. “He asked me to leak the video of the fight. And Gretchen’s paperwork for the board seat? He made me delete it. He never even sent it to the board.”
“Get out!” Evan bellowed.
All he accomplished, though, was to bring Frasier and Diane storming into the room. “What the hell is going on now?” Frasier boomed. When he saw Colton, his face hardened. “How dare you come here?”
“Don’t worry. We were just leaving.”
Jack reached out his hand to Evan. “The contract?”
Diane curled her fingers around her pearls. “What contract? What is going on?”
Sarah marched over to Diane and thrust the paper at her. “I quit. That’s what’s going on.”
As Sarah stormed out, Diane skimmed the paper and then looked up at Evan, her face contorted. “Evan, what is this? What have you done?”
Colton was tempted to peer over Diane’s shoulder because he, too, still had no idea what Evan had done. Evan marched to his desk, pulled out a two-paged stapled document, and tossed it at Jack. “Here. Take it. And get the fuck out.”
Jack folded the contract and shoved it in his pocket. “Let’s go, Colton. Evan is going to need some privacy to tell his parents about his decision to step down.”
Frasier became belligerent. “What the hell is he talking about? Step down from what?”
“Wait,” Colton said. He got in Evan’s face. “You want to know what I see in her? Everything you’re not. Everything you could never be. Kind. And smart. And compassionate. And if we never see you again, it will be too soon.”
* * *
? ? ?
Even in the nation’s capital, the fight to protect immigrants was a lonely, low-paying endeavor.
The offices of the Refugee Resettlement Foundation in D.C. were as unimpressive as hers back home. Aging cubicles held computers that were about five years out of date, and the only view from the conference room window was of the entrance to a Metro stop and a Five Guys with a sign proclaiming it as President Obama’s favorite burger joint.
But the office bustled with energy when she walked in just after seven o’clock. More than twenty people of all ages were busy sorting donations into marked tubs for distribution to newly arrived refugees from Afghanistan. Some people donated luxury gifts like purses and iPods, but most people had donated the basic necessities that families needed to start over. Bedding. Socks. Toiletries. School supplies. And all had to be carefully itemized to make sure they went to the right people.
Deep in the middle of it all was Jorge, bent over a single box and checking things off on a clipboard.
“Can I help you?” A youngish woman in an RRF T-shirt greeted Gretchen at the door. “Are you here to volunteer?”
“I am.” Exhaustion stole the volume from her voice. She cleared her throat. “Jorge invited me.”
At the sound of his name, Jorge glanced up and smiled. “Gretchen, you’re here.”
She tried to smile. “Surprise.”
Jorge spoke to a man beside him and handed over the clipboard. He had to dodge several boxes as he made his way to her. “Yes,” he said. “Surprise.”