“Most of you know Laura from Customer Operations,” David said. “She’s the person who saved the Kellerman account in 2021 by driving six hours to a warehouse in Pittsburgh with a box of replacement parts in her own trunk. She’s the one who stays after hours when somebody’s mother is in the hospital.”
He paused.
His hand, on the edge of the microphone, was trembling.
“What most of you don’t know, what Laura doesn’t know, because I was a coward for ten years, is that this woman has never been anyone’s housekeeper.”
“David,” I whispered. “Please.”
“She’s my daughter.”
The room made a sound I will never forget.
It was a hundred and twenty people sucking in a breath at the same moment, like the whole building gasping.
Someone dropped a glass.
It shattered on the hardwood, and nobody turned around.
PART 3
“That isn’t funny,” I said.
My voice came out thin and strange, like it belonged to somebody standing farther away.
