Nora took a deep breath. This abrupt airing of her grievances, tumbling as it had from her lips, was almost as unexpected to her as it must have been to Weingrau. But it was now said—and, maybe, for the better. The fact was, being honest with herself, for some time now she’d been practically looking for an excuse to leave. And here it was, gift-wrapped. If the Institute wanted to ruin its reputation, at least she wouldn’t be around to catch the blowback.
“In other words, you’re firing me,” she said.
“If you drop off a letter of resignation on your way out, we won’t have to term it a dismissal. We’ll call it a resignation.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“If you’re going to fire me, fire me.” She turned to Digby. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
And with that, she stood up and left the office.
2
NINETY MINUTES LATER, Nora exited the main door of the Institute into the bright April sunlight, carrying a box and a backpack toward her car. Her rage was starting to cool, replaced by bitter regret and second-guessing. If she’d handled the situation differently; if she hadn’t pushed back so hard; if she’d only said she needed to give it some thought; if she hadn’t called the project tacky or Digby a toady…maybe she could have talked her way out of it and sloughed the excavation off on him. Beyond that was the sheer stubbornness that kept her from taking the resignation offer. It was going to be hard enough to find another position in the current academic job market, but with a dismissal on her record…What was she thinking? And yet the thought of submitting a resignation letter now, after all she’d said, was just too much humiliation for her to bear.
And she couldn’t help but worry about her brother, Skip, who also worked at the Institute. He was likely to quit in a huff as soon as he heard she was fired. He was in a tougher position than she: he hadn’t exactly put his Stanford physics degree to good use. How many collections manager positions were there in Santa Fe? But even if he didn’t quit, Weingrau might fire him just to spite her. Nora didn’t want to see him spiraling back down to the dark place he’d been in a few years before.
A vehicle was idling in the parking lot, blocking the way to her car. As she walked around it, wrestling with her stuff, a man got out.
“Dr. Kelly?”
She stopped. “Yes?”
“Could we have a moment to chat?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really busy and I’ve got to go.” Whatever he wanted, whatever he was doing here at the Institute, was no longer of interest to her. She resumed her walk.
“Here, let me help you with the box,” he said, hurrying over.
“No thanks,” she said sharply. She arrived at her car, fumbled out the key, unlocked the doors, and threw the box in the back seat, tossing the backpack in after it. She slammed the door and realized the man had come up and was standing behind her.
She ignored him, opening the driver’s door and getting in. He placed a hand on it, preventing her from shutting it in his face.
“I take it you quit?” he said.
She stared, momentarily flummoxed. Had word gotten around already? Nobody knew that, not even Skip.
“Who the hell are you?” she asked.
He smiled. “Lucas Tappan.” He held out his hand.
She stared at him, really seeing him for the first time. He was around her age, mid-to late thirties, in a linen jacket, black lambskin cowboy shirt, jeans, suede Lanvin sneakers, with curly black hair, gray eyes, white teeth, cleft chin, dimples. She immediately disliked him and his smug I’ve got unlimited money but it hasn’t really changed me look.
“Get your hand off my door or I’ll call the police.”
He complied, and she slammed it and shoved the key into the ignition. The engine started and she twisted around to back up, pressing the accelerator harder than she intended and spinning the wheels in the gravel.
“I’m glad you quit,” he said, raising his voice to be heard through the window. “Now we can work free of encumbrance.”
She jammed on the brakes, rolled down the window. “What?”
“I was hoping this might happen. Frankly, I wasn’t looking forward to working with that Weingrau lady.”
“You were hoping? This is ridiculous—”
“Look, can we talk? Just for a moment?”
Nora stared at him. “I really don’t have time for this.”
“You have all the time in the world. You don’t have a job.”