The business card sat in the cup holder.
He drove his daughter to before-school care.
At the curb she paused.
“You’re going?”
“To work.”
She gave him a look.
“The other work.”
“I don’t know.”
“Go.”
“You’re seven.”
“So?”
“So stop managing my career.”
She leaned through the open truck window and kissed his cheek.
“You’re welcome.”
Then ran toward the entrance.
The father laughed.
He sat there for almost a minute.
Then drove toward the warehouse.
He told himself he had decided.
He would clock in.
Take lunch at eleven.
Call the number on the card then.
Responsible.
Safe.
Ordinary.
At 7:41 he pulled into the employee lot.
At 7:43 he saw three black SUVs parked beside the loading docks.
At 7:44 he saw his warehouse supervisor running.
Not walking.
Running.
That man did not run for fire alarms.
The father climbed out.
“What happened?”
The supervisor pointed toward the office.
“Some corporate people are here.”
“Corporate from where?”
“No idea.”
Then the supervisor stopped.
Stared at him.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Do you know a woman who looks like she walked out of a magazine?”
The father closed his eyes.
“No.”
The supervisor pointed.
“She knows you.”
Of course she did.
Inside the warehouse conference room, the elegant stranger from the highway sat at a folding table beneath a safety poster.
The contrast was absurd.
Yesterday’s ivory clothing had been replaced by a dark tailored suit and a cream blouse.
Her wet hair was now smooth.
Two attorneys sat beside her.
Another man stood near the wall with a laptop.
The father stopped in the doorway.
“You said eight.”
She looked at the clock.
“Seven forty-seven.”
“That is not eight.”
“I was early.”
“You came to my job.”
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t call?”
“I did.”
He checked his phone.
Three missed calls.
His battery had been on silent during school drop-off.
He sighed.
The warehouse supervisor looked between them.
“Should I…?”
The woman stood.
“Yes.”
She offered her hand.
This time the single father took it.
Then she looked toward the supervisor.
“I need an hour of his time.”
The supervisor blinked.
“He’s scheduled.”
The woman’s attorney slid a document across.
“We’ll reimburse the company for the labor interruption.”
The father immediately shook his head.
“No.”
Everyone looked toward him.
He continued.
“You don’t buy an hour of me from my employer.”
The CEO’s expression changed.
Not offended.
Interested.
He added:
“If you want my time, ask me.”
She nodded once.
“Fair.”
Then:
“Will you give me an hour?”
The father looked toward the loading dock.
His supervisor looked terrified of being involved.
He sighed.