Wednesday
I think you’ll find that the evidence points directly to you, Rae. All we would have to do is access security tapes from last year to see which paintings have gone missing. You might be the star of a few of those tapes. Ever think of that?”
Rae does not offer me candy, a seat, or a response.
I hug my arms around myself to keep warm in her icebox of an office. “Look, I’m not here to ruin your life. I’m here to get mine back.”
Her eyes show that she is considering this as a possibility, weighing whether I am being truthful. “There is no funding for your position. I explained this.”
“I will exchange this portfolio of evidence for the chance to hold an end-of-year fund-raiser on Saturday and to earn enough to cover my position until Golden Horizons gets back up to financial speed. If the fashion show brings in enough to fund me, Sonya, and the recreational program for two years, you will make sure that I am hired back and that my record is cleared. I can only imagine what terrible lies you have written in my file or submitted to the state.”
“Three years. Funding for three years.”
I wave the paperwork in front of her. “Do the right thing, Rae.”
“I could say I was selling old pieces to buy new ones…to offer a variety of visual beauty to the residents. You don’t have much leverage here.”
My mouth starts to protest, but I realize this argument might work.
“Okay, three years. I want it in writing and notarized.”
Rae fans herself and looks, for the fifth time, just beyond me to the right corner by the door. When I catch her eye, she looks away quickly. “That would take this matter out of house. I won’t go for that.”
“Lysa!” I call out to her. She is listening on the other side of the office door.
“Rae, if you knew anything about your employees, you would know Lysa used to have a career in banking before she decided to become a nurse.”
“Let me draft the letter,” Rae stalls. She is starting to log on to her computer.
“Not necessary. I have it right here. We’ll just fill in the details of three years coverage and that estimated amount.” I pull from my briefcase the document Angelica helped me create. I had forgotten that Angelica had been pre-law when we met in college.
“Mind if I have a piece of candy?” Lysa asks boldly.
No answer.
“I don’t recommend the red hots,” I say, extending the dish to Lysa while Rae signs on her line. A moment later I sign on mine.
On our way out, I look to the right and see a stack of flat banker boxes.
“Lysa, be sure a copy of this stays in my file. As a matter of fact, could you sit on my personnel file until next Monday?”
“I have a lockbox tucked away in a place she’d never go.”
“Where?’
“A resident’s room.”
We laugh at this unfortunate truth.
“Do you think she might be planning her escape?” I ask.
“Would we care?” Lysa deadpans while grabbing her coat and locking up her file drawer.
“Only if it ruined my plan to start back here on Monday.”
“Keep your perspective, Mari. What if she did leave on the first plane to Nepal tomorrow? Do you think some new director is going to reject a big, fat check and a fantastic person, like yourself, who is willing to work here for peanuts because you care? She’d be nuts.”
I consider this. “Why Nepal?”
“Just a random location.”
“Very random.” She’s right that I shouldn’t worry.
“Let’s walk out and grab a coffee at the corner? I can’t wait to have my office buddy back.” Lysa’s arm goes around my shoulders for a quick squeeze.
“Sure.” My eyes take in the hallways that used to seem so drab and sorry. Now I notice the small things that make them personal and warm. The scattered decorations. A master list of every resident’s birthday. Embroidered nameplates on each door. Photos of family members and days gone by pinned to bulletin boards and door frames. “Can you believe I miss this?”
“I wouldn’t have believed it my first week here…but yeah, now I can.”