The Person They Asked For

“I don’t know who they’ve assigned,” I said.

“You don’t know?”

“My access ended this afternoon. You need to contact Derek Lawson about the transition.”

“Your name is on our implementation plan.”

“I know.”

“Did you know this was coming?”

“Not until yesterday.”

Sonia was quiet long enough that I heard the pharmacy doors open and close behind me.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Nexora Solutions.”

“Adrian’s company?”

“Yes.”

“We use them for one of our smaller divisions.”

I knew. That was why their name had appeared on the original competitive bid. I didn’t say it.

“Cat, I need someone who understands why this implementation can’t slip.”

“I can’t advise on your Creston project now. Your current plan and records should be available to their assigned team.”

“You sound like you’re afraid to speak.”

“I’m being careful about what belongs to whom.”

Her voice softened a fraction.

“Fair enough. Are you all right?”

The question caught me.

“I will be.”

“Then I’ll call Derek. Send your new professional details when you have them. If our procurement team wants a conversation later, they’ll arrange it properly.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m about to have a very unpleasant afternoon.”

I ended the call and wrote a short factual note for Elise about what had been said. Then I put the phone away and drove to school.

Noah came out with his backpack hanging from one shoulder, scanning the line for Denise’s car.

When he saw mine, he stopped walking.

I lifted a hand through the windshield.

He ran the last few steps.

“Why are you here?”

“Because you need a ride.”

“It isn’t Friday.”

“I noticed.”

He buckled himself in and looked at the box.

“Did you clean your desk?”

I turned toward him.

“I left my job today.”

His face changed before I could add anything. A quick, contained fear. He had learned too much from overheard conversations and the way I checked prices.

“I have a new one,” I said. “It pays better, and we worked out a schedule.”

“Are we moving?”

“No.”

“Do I have to change schools?”

“No, baby.”

He leaned back.

“Okay.”

I waited. He watched a group of children pass.

Then he said, “Was it the job that made you cry in the kitchen?”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I wanted water.”

I had no answer that would make the memory disappear.

“I’m sorry you worried.”

“Was your boss mean?”

“Sometimes.”

He thought about that.

“I’m glad you left.”

The simple loyalty of it nearly broke me.

Before I started the engine, Noah reached into the box and lifted the mug.

“Are you only okay at being a boss?”

“It was a joke.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“My team.”

He considered the lettering, then put it carefully back.

“They must like you.”

“I hope so.”

“Then you should keep it.”

I touched his knee. “I was planning to.”

We bought sandwiches and ate them at a park because neither of us wanted to go straight home. Noah explained his science project between bites: different materials, different rates of heat loss, a small sensor whose wires he had labeled with tape.

“Can you come next term?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“For the whole thing?”

I wanted to promise with the extravagant confidence I had used before. Front row. Big signs. Nothing could stop me.

Instead, I took out my personal calendar and entered the time.

“I’ve told my new company. It’s on my calendar. I’m making a plan to be there.”

He watched me save it.

“Okay.”

His trust had become cautious. I had earned that, even if I had reasons.

At home, I switched on my phone and found a flood of messages.

Maria had sent one: He has asked for a complete status report by nine tomorrow. We told him we need priorities.

David sent a screenshot of a meeting invitation with six overlapping assignments. I asked him not to send customer information to my personal device and suggested he document his workload inside the company.

Paula wrote only: I miss you already.

I stared at that one for a while.

Patricia’s email arrived at five forty. It confirmed that Creston had chosen to end my access and release me from the notice period. It listed the arrangements for final pay and benefits and the return of equipment.

Elise reviewed it with me. Nexora confirmed my revised start for Monday, after the separation date, with onboarding details I could actually rely on.

For the first time all day, my future existed in more than somebody’s voice.

Then Derek emailed.

His subject line read Client Continuity.

He wanted written answers to twenty-three questions by the next morning. Several concerned matters documented in the systems he had just locked me out of.

I forwarded the message to Elise and answered once, using wording we agreed on. The records remained with Creston. I had offered a handover. He had chosen immediate release. Further requests should go through the designated contacts.

I did not spend my evening rebuilding documents from memory.

Instead, I sat with Noah and fixed the loose wire on his sensor.

At seven, Robert texted to say he had spoken to Graham Mercer.

At seven fifteen, Sonia left a voicemail saying she had reached Derek and would be taking her questions to the executive team.

At eight, Noah asked whether he could have another bedtime story even though he was supposedly too old for them.

I read two.

At nine eleven, while I was washing the sandwich containers, an unfamiliar number appeared.

I let it ring once, then answered.

“Catherine Bennett?”

“Yes.”

“This is Graham Mercer.”

I set the container down.

The founder and chief executive of Creston Systems had never spoken to me directly. Not during the acquisition. Not when we lost five people. Not when Clover renewed.

“I understand,” he said, “that we have a problem.”