The words came easily.
“Yes.”
Eleanor’s expression didn’t change.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
“Eleanor—” Gavin began.
She didn’t even look at him.
I answered.
“He asked whether you were my wife or mother.”
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed.
“And when you said no?”
“He said I should have kept driving.”
Nobody moved.
For the first time since returning, I heard the wall clock ticking.
Eleanor turned slowly toward Gavin.
“He said what?”
Gavin’s face lost color.
“I was frustrated. We had lost an important opportunity.”
“What opportunity?”
“The Whitcombe account.”
One of Eleanor’s attorneys glanced down at a tablet.
Then he murmured something to her.
Eleanor looked back at Gavin.
“Three-point-eight million over three years?”
“Yes.”
“And your response to potentially losing that account was to terminate the employee who stopped because he believed another human being might d/i/e?”
Gavin opened his mouth.
