That single word and I’m winded, my vocal cords tightening. “What happened?”
“Look, Mr. Cook. There is no way she did it.”
My phone is ringing. Two lines. What the hell is going on? I’m not answering. I’m not going anywhere or speaking to anyone else until I have the story. My muscles are seized up in anticipation of moving. Figuring out what’s going on and moving. “No way she did what?”
“They’re claiming she stole some earrings,” Jordyn explains, her outraged expression making it crystal clear what she thinks of the accusation. “I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I just came to get you. But I think security will have taken her to human resources.”
Jesus Christ. I’m already standing up, moving toward the door, Leland running to catch up with me. Wind is roaring in my ears. The concept of pressing the call button for the elevator makes no sense, so I don’t even bother. I go for the stairs.
She has to be terrified.
This is my fault. This is my fault. I hired Stella and assumed everyone wouldn’t question that decision. That they would accept the fact that she has a troubled past and treat her with the same respect as everyone else. Like any other employee. I’d just lead by example and everyone would follow suit. That was na?ve of me—I can see that now. Now she’s been brought by security to the back office. Like a criminal.
Anger filters in through the shock and denial.
It crowds into my throat and burns down my esophagus.
Cold perspiration has already soaked the back of my dress shirt by the time I reach the lobby floor and burst through the steel door. I hook a right and rush through the entrance of the first office on the left. Two security guards and Roxanne Bunting, head of human resources, turn to look at me. The guards are stoic but Roxanne looks nothing short of smug, setting off a wild hammering in my temples.
“Where is Miss Schmidt?” I ask through my teeth. One of the guards takes a step back, wisely recognizing that I’m on the verge of imploding.
“Mrs. Bunting asked us to bring her to the back room.”
I stride past them, intending to find and reassure Stella that this mess is going to get straightened out. But I’m brought up short when I see my grandmother sitting behind one of the desks, a cup of tea steaming at her elbow. Behind her, my father leans against a file cabinet, twisting the gold watch around his wrist. My gut plummets.
Here it is. This is the T I didn’t cross, isn’t it? This is the disaster I didn’t see looming.
“Hello Aiden,” my grandmother says blithely, leaning down to blow on her tea.
“Aiden,” sighs my father with a lazy nod.
My gaze travels to the closed back door, everything inside of me protesting the fact that Stella is on the other side. Scared. Probably worse than the time she locked herself in the window box. Heartburn detonates in my chest with a vengeance just thinking about it. “What are you doing here?” I ask Shirley and Brad.
My grandmother blinks, as if the question is absurd. “Apparently we can’t trust you to keep our affairs in order. Dear Roxanne was kind enough to give me a call and let me know some issues were going overlooked. Such as the fact that a felon has been hired behind the board’s back.”
“I am responsible for hiring. I don’t need permission or approval.”
“Well clearly we need to change the hiring procedure.” She shoots a look at the closed door. “I knew something was off about her at the unveiling. And I always trust my instincts.”
“I thought something was off, too,” my father interjects, frowning.
“Yes, you get credit, too, Brad,” Shirley assures him, without turning. “Shrewd as ever.”
This is where I would normally make nice. Say something to smooth ruffled feathers and keep the peace. It’s how I was taught. I was given kindness and even-temperedness to combat the feeling of being lonely. Cast aside. And the resentment that came with it. I’m an outsider in this family and I’ve been giving my relatives what they want, hoping they’ll accept me. But I realize in this moment with absolute clarity that I don’t want to be accepted by them. God, no.
I no longer accept them.
I’m not going to quell this anger inside of me. Not this time. That would be doing myself and Stella a disservice. She deserves to have someone pissed off on her behalf. And I’m not responsible for making everyone comfortable, especially when they’re in the wrong.
I can’t wait another second to get my eyes on Stella, so I take two final steps to the door and push it open. She jolts at my entrance, her back going ramrod straight. She’s not crying, thank Christ, but she’s shaking. She’s shaking like a leaf and the sight of it goes through me like a javelin. “Aiden…” Clenching her eyes shut, she shakes her head. “Mr. Cook—”
“Don’t say another word,” I interrupt, as evenly as possible when the girl I’ve fallen for has essentially been arrested on my watch—and now she’s calling me mister.
Her face loses even more color. I’m working on softening my tone enough to tell her everything is going to be all right, when I hear Shirley whispering with Roxanne and red trickles into my vision. I turn away slowly from the back room, noting absently that Leland and Jordyn are shoulder to shoulder in the doorway, visibly invested in the proceedings. Furious for Stella’s sake. And that’s when I start thinking semi-clearly. Enough to know what has to be done.
“Jordyn, lock the registers on the main floor and bring the sales staff in here.”
My floor manager’s eyes widen. “All of them?”
“Yes. All of them.”
Jordyn takes off her heels and runs. She’s getting a raise.
“They’re working, Aiden,” sputters my grandmother. “The store is packed. We can’t just shut down the main floor on a whim.”
My jaw bone is going to crack, my teeth grinding so hard. “You think it’s a whim to accuse someone of stealing?”
“Oh please,” snorts Brad. “I’m sure the girl is used to it.”
Roxanne laughs quietly at my father’s remarks, drawing my attention. “Mrs. Bunting. When did you run the inventory report and find the earrings were missing?”
She shifts uneasily over being the new center of attention. “Last night around five thirty. Before I left for the day.”
“And even though I was working upstairs until at least eleven o’clock and my personal phone is always open for calls, you decided the best thing to do was alert my grandmother about the issue. Is that right?”
“Roxanne has been working here since me and your father ran the store, Aiden,” says Shirley, as if that is an adequate explanation.
“Ran it into the ground, you mean,” I say.
The wind sails straight out of Brad, sending him into a coughing fit.
My grandmother’s teacup freezes on the way to her mouth. “Aiden, what has gotten into you?”
“It’s finally happening,” Leland whispers. “He’s losing his temper. Get the popcorn.”
Now that I’ve apparently brought the room to a standstill, I focus on the human resources director. “Mrs. Bunting, I might have excused the breach in protocol if you didn’t seem gleeful over an employee being falsely accused of stealing merchandise. You may keep your position through New Year’s and then I suggest you find another place of employment. You don’t represent this company in the manner it deserves. Or rather, that the employees deserve.”