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Lessons in Chemistry(140)

Author:Bonnie Garmus

Donatti shook his head at her, then turned back to Wilson. “As I said. Had I known you were coming—”

“But we didn’t want you to know we were coming,” Wilson explained genially. “We wanted to surprise you. Or no, technically I guess this is more of blindside.”

“Ex-excuse me?”

“Blindside,” Wilson repeated. “You know. Like the way you blindsided us by misappropriating Parker Foundation funds. Or the way you blindsided Miss Zott—or should I say Mr. Zott?—when you stole her work.”

Across the room, Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Now look here,” Donatti said, jabbing a finger in Zott’s general direction. “I don’t know what that woman told you, but I can assure you—” He stopped midway. “And why the hell are you here?” he demanded, pointing at Frask. “After those ridiculous lies you wrote in your petulant little letter to Life? My lawyer wants to sue.” He turned to Wilson. “You’re probably not aware, Wilson, but we fired Frask years ago. She’s got an axe to grind.”

“She does,” Wilson agreed. “It’s a sharp axe, too.”

“Exactly,” Donatti said.

“I know,” Wilson said. “Because I’m her lawyer.”

Donatti’s eyes bulged.

“Donatti,” Avery Parker said as she dug in a bag and pulled out a single sheet of paper. “I hate to be rude, but we’re short on time. All we need is a quick signature and then you’re free to go.” She held out a document headed by two simple words: “Termination Notice.”

Donatti, speechless, stared down at the document while Wilson explained that the Parker Foundation had recently acquired a majority share in Hastings. It was Frask’s letter in Life magazine, Wilson said, that had prompted them to take a closer look—blah, blah, blah—malfeasance—blah, blah, blah—decided to take the whole place over—Donatti could barely listen. Wasn’t this Calvin Evans’s old lab? From somewhere far off in the distance, he heard Wilson droning on about “sloppy management,” “faked test results,” “plagiarism.” God, he needed a drink.

“We’re making some cuts,” Frask said.

“What do you mean we?” Donatti said, snapping back.

“I’m making some cuts,” Frask said.

“You’re a secretary,” Donatti exhaled, as if he were tired of this charade. “Fired, remember?”

“Frask is our new head of Personnel,” Wilson informed him. “We’ve asked her to find a new director of Chemistry.”

“But I’m the head of Chemistry,” Donatti reminded him.

“We’ve decided to offer the job to someone else,” Avery Parker said. She nodded at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, surprised, took a step back.

“Out of the question!” thundered Donatti.

“I wasn’t really asking a question,” Avery Parker said, the termination notice hanging limp in her hand. “But if you’d like, we could leave your employment status up to someone who really knows your work.” For the second time, she tilted her head in Elizabeth’s direction.

All eyes turned to Elizabeth, but she didn’t seem to notice; she was already fixated on the sputtering Donatti. Hands on hips, she leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowed as if peering into a microscope. There were two beats of silence. Then she leaned back as if she’d seen enough.

“Sorry, Donatti,” she said, handing him a pen. “You’re just not smart enough.”

Chapter 43

Stillborn

“Very few people surprise me, Mrs. Parker,” Elizabeth said as she watched Frask escort Donatti out. “But you have.”

Avery Parker nodded. “Good. The offer’s sincere. We hope you’ll accept. And by the way, it’s Miss Parker. I’m not married. Actually,” she added, “I’ve never been married.”

“Nor have I,” Elizabeth said.

“Yes,” Avery Parker said, her voice dropping an octave. “I’m aware.”

Elizabeth noted the change in timbre and felt an instant prick of irritation. Thanks to Life, the entire world knew Madeline was born out of wedlock, and because of it, she heard that tone all the time.

“I’m not sure how much you know about the Parker Foundation,” Wilson began as he wandered around the lab, pausing briefly to read a description on a file folder.

“I know your focus is scientific research,” Elizabeth said, turning toward him. “But that your roots were Catholic charities. Churches, choirs, orphanages—” She stopped dead, suddenly acutely aware of that last word. She looked at Wilson more closely.