PART 10:

” “There’s a difference.” “Yeah.” She nodded. She didn’t push past that which was why conversations with Dana usually ended in a place that felt settled rather than complicated. “Lilly has her school thing on Thursday.” She said shifting into the logistics of the rest of the week. “The thing with the science project, she needs poster board.

” “I’ll get it tomorrow.” “The big kind. She was very specific about the big kind.” “The big kind.” “Got it.” Dana stood up, rinsed her mug, and picked up her bag. She paused at the kitchen doorway. “You did a good thing today.” She said. He looked at her. “I know you’re not going to talk about it like that, but it was a good thing.

She put her coat on. Lock the door behind me. He locked the door. He stood in the kitchen for a while after she left, the frozen peas on his arm, the apartment quiet around him in the specific way apartments are quiet when a child is sleeping in them. A quality of quiet that has substance to it, that is made of something rather than just the absence of noise.

He thought about what Sophia Blackwell had said. She doesn’t know what you did today. He thought about what Dana had said. You could have let it go. He took the peas off his arm and put them back in the freezer. He checked the locks on the door and the windows, which was something he’d done every night for 4 years and probably would for the rest of his life.

He looked in on Lily, who was asleep on her side with one arm over her book and her face arranged in the unguarded expression of sleep. The 7-year-old version of her without the opinions and the horse drawings and the very strong feelings about parmazan, just her face in the dark. He stood there for a moment longer than he needed to.

Then he went to bed. His arm hurt until about 2:00 in the morning, then it settled and he slept. The news cycle caught the event by morning. He didn’t watch the news as a rule. He checked weather and traffic and not much else. But Torres texted him a link at 7:15 while he was making Lily’s lunch. Dude, you’re in the news.

He ignored the link. Seriously, man, they’re calling it a thwarted assassination attempt. They’re calling the guy who stopped it an unidentified hotel employee. Lily came into the kitchen in her school clothes, one sock on, the other in her hand. Dad, where’s my other Check under the couch. She disappeared.

Returned 30 seconds later with the sock. Found it. Surprising. She sat on the kitchen floor to put it on, which was apparently the correct location for this activity. “Can I have the pear in my lunch? Not the apple.” “You can have the pear.” His phone buzzed again. Not Torres this time, an unknown number with a city area code.

He let it go to voicemail. He finished making the lunch. He drove Lily to school, walked her to the entrance, watched her join the cluster of kids at the door with the particular quality of watching that he could never quite turn off. Tracking who was where, how people were positioned, what didn’t fit. Lily turned at the entrance and waved.

He waved back. He drove to work. Uh, the Crown Meridian was different that morning in a way that was hard to articulate, but immediately felt. Not dramatic. Nobody stopped him in the lobby or applauded or made a scene, but there was something in the quality of attention he received as he moved through the building.

Gloria stopped her cart and looked at him for a moment before nodding. One of the bellmen he barely knew said, “Good morning.” with a weight in it that made it more than a greeting. Prescott found him before he’d even reach the maintenance office. “How are you?” Prescott asked. “Fine.” “Your arm?” “Bruised, nothing else.

” Prescott nodded. He had the look of a man who had not slept particularly well. “The GM wants to meet with you this morning at 9:00. Nothing to worry about. She wants to thank you personally and to discuss” He paused carefully. “any concerns you might have about how yesterday was handled.” Ethan understood that this was a diplomatic way of saying the hotel was managing its liability exposure and wanted to know if he was going to be a problem.

“I don’t have concerns.” he said. “I have work orders.” Prescott’s expression loosened slightly. “Right.” “Okay.” “9:00, GM’s office.” “I’ll be there.” He went to the maintenance office. He checked his work orders for the day. He poured a cup of coffee from the perpetually 3 days from being replaced machine and sat down at the folding table.

His phone showed a voicemail from the unknown number. He played it with the phone against his ear. Mr. Cross, my name is Janet Reyes. I’m Ms. Blackwell’s executive assistant. Ms. Blackwell would like to speak with you at your convenience. Not today, if that’s not workable, but in the next day or two if possible. She wanted me to make clear that this is entirely at your discretion.

You can reach me at this number. Thank you. He set the phone down. He looked at his work orders. He looked at the phone. He thought about Sofia Blackwell sitting in a chair across from him in an empty ballroom saying, “I don’t know how to start this conversation.” and starting it anyway. He picked up the phone and dialed back.

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