No, sweetheart. If, and it’s a big if, I take this job, we’d stay right here. Your school wouldn’t change. Emma nodded, visibly relieved. And would you still pick me up every day? Every single day? Daniel promised, reaching over to squeeze her hand. That’s non-negotiable. After dropping Emma off, Daniel drove home to prepare for the interview.
He stood before the closet, staring at his limited wardrobe. The suit he’d worn for teaching was at least three years old, slightly too loose now, after months of stress and grief had whittleled away at Hibage’s frame. He’d had it clean, though, and the navy blue was timeless. His one decent tie, a gift from Sarah on their last anniversary, completed the outfit.
As he nodded the tie, Daniel caught his reflection in the mirror. Who was this man in the suit pretending to be a professor again? The calluses on his hands wouldn’t fade in time for the interview. The slight sunburn on his neck from outdoor repair work last week marked him as clearly as a brand. Would he fit in the sleek offices of Morgan Medical Technologies? Or would he be as out of place as Sophia Morgan had been in his world at Whole Foods? Two hours later, Daniel stood in the gleaming lobby of the MMT headquarters downtown, a 40-story testament to modern
architecture and corporate success. The receptionist greeted him with professional courtesy, offering him water in an actual glass, not a paper cup. Everything about the space spoke of money, from the original artwork on the walls to the subtle scent of something expensive in the air. Daniel felt the weight of eyes on him.
Not hostile, just curious. He didn’t belong here and everyone knew it, including him. Mir Carter. He turned to see a young woman with a tablet and an earpiece. Dr. Carter, actually, he corrected gently, surprised by his own insistence on the title he rarely used anymore. The woman blinked. Of course, to Carter. Ms. Morgan is ready for you.
Please follow me. The elevator ride to the executive floor was swift and silent. Daniel used the time to center himself, to remember that whatever happened today, he and Emma would be fine. They’d weathered worse, far worse. The doors opened to reveal another reception area. This one more intimate, but no less impressive.
Sophia rose from behind a desk that could have paid his rent for 6 months. “Daniel,” she said, extending her hand. Today, she wore a charcoal gray suit, her blonde hair swept back in an elegant twist. professional, powerful, but somehow less intimidating than she’d been in Whole Foods. “Thank you for coming.
Thank you for the opportunity,” he replied, acutely aware of the contrast between them. Her perfectly tailored suit versus his slightly worn one, her manicured nails against his work roughened hands. Sophia led him through a set of glass doors into a conference room where a man with familiar features waited. “This is my brother, James Morgan.
He oversees our international division and the Schneider merger specifically. James stood, offering a firm handshake. So, you’re the linguistics expert, Sophia discovered. His tone was friendly but evaluating. The look in his eyes calculating in a way that reminded Daniel of tenure committee meetings. Discovered is a generous term, Daniel said with a small smile.
More like insulted in German and was surprised when I responded. James laughed genuinely amused. Sophia told me about your encounter. Quite unorthodox recruitment methods, but sometimes the best talent appears in unexpected places. As they settled around the table, Daniel noticed a stack of papers before James.
His curriculum vi realized with surprise. You’ve done your research. And he observed. Of course, Sophia said, “When you mentioned H Highleberg and UMass, it wasn’t difficult to find your academic record.” James tapped the papers. six languages fluently published in top linguistics journals, postdoal research on Germanic language evolution and its impact on technical terminology.
He looked up, meeting Daniel’s eyes directly. What I don’t understand is why someone with your credentials is working as a handyman. The question wasn’t accusatory, just direct. Still, Daniel felt his spine stiffen. I believe Sophia mentioned my situation. She did, James acknowledged, but I’d like to hear it from you. Daniel took a measured breath.
My wife was diagnosed with aggressive pancreatic cancer three years ago. I took a leave of absence to care for her, which eventually became a resignation when her condition worsened. After she passed, I had significant medical debt and a traumatized six-year-old daughter who had just lost her mother.
Returning to academia wasn’t feasible. The room fell silent. Daniel didn’t elaborate on the night spent beside Sarah’s hospital bed, grading papers while she slept. He didn’t mention how he’d continued teaching remotely until his department head had gently suggested that perhaps his focus was compromised. He didn’t describe the day he’d packed up his office, colleagues avoiding eye contact in the hallway, unsure how to interact with grief so raw and visible.
I understand priorities, James said finally. Family comes first. But that doesn’t explain why someone with your expertise couldn’t find corporate work. Surely there were options between professor and handyman. Before Daniel could respond, the conference room mower opened and a man in an expensive suit entered without knocking.
Sorry I’m late, he said, though his tone suggested he wasn’t sorry at all. Traffic was a nightmare. Richard, Sophia said, her voice noticeably cooler. I don’t recall inviting you to this meeting. The man, Richard, smiled thinly. As CFO, I make it my business to be involved in all potential hiring decisions, especially for highlevel positions.
