The House in the Cerulean Sea(112)

Ms. Jenkins stood above him, the same dour expression on her face. Gunther, of course, stood slightly behind her, his clipboard ever present. He smiled sickly sweet down at Linus.

“Hello, Ms. Jenkins,” Linus said dutifully. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Yes, I expect it is,” she said with a sniff. “You’ve returned.”

“Your observational skills remain unparalleled.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Excuse me?”

He coughed and cleared his throat. “I said, yes, I have returned.”

“From your assignment.”

“Yes.”

“Your secret assignment.”

“I suppose.”

The skin under her left eye twitched. “Just because Extremely Upper Management did us all a favor and got rid of you for a month doesn’t mean things have changed around here.”

“I can see that.”

“I expect you to be caught up with all of your work by the end of the week.”

Impossible, of course, but she knew that. “Yes, Ms. Jenkins.”

“Your caseload will be returned to you by lunchtime.”

“Yes, Ms. Jenkins.”

She leaned forward, putting her hands flat on his desk. Her nails were painted black. “Gunning for a promotion, are you? Think you have what it takes to be a Supervisor?”

He laughed. He didn’t mean to, but he did.

Ms. Jenkins looked scandalized.

Gunther’s smile fell from his face. He looked shocked.

“No,” Linus managed to say. “I’m not trying for a promotion. I don’t think I’m quite cut out for Supervision.”

“For once we agree,” Ms. Jenkins said nastily. “I couldn’t think of anyone more ill-suited than you. You are lucky you still have a desk to return to. If I had my way, you would … have … had … Mr. Baker! What is that?”

She pointed a black fingernail at the photograph.

“It’s mine,” he said. “It’s mine, and I like it.”

“It is prohibited,” she said shrilly. “Per RULES AND REGULATIONS, caseworkers are not allowed personal effects unless sanctioned by Supervision!”

Linus looked up at her. “Then sanction it.”

She took a step back, hand going to her throat. Gunther scribbled furiously onto his clipboard.

“What did you say?” she asked dangerously.

“Sanction it,” Linus repeated.

“I will not. This will go into your permanent file! How dare you speak to me this— Gunther! Demerits! Demerits for Mr. Baker!”

Gunther’s smile returned. “Of course. How many?”

“Five! No, ten. Ten demerits!”

The caseworkers around them began to whisper fervently.

“Ten demerits,” Gunther said, sounding rather gleeful. “Yes. So wise, Ms. Jenkins. So knowing.”

“That … that thing will be gone by the end of the day,” Ms. Jenkins said. “Mark my words, Mr. Baker. If it’s not, I will see to it you don’t have a job to return to.”

Linus said nothing.

That didn’t sit well with her. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Ms. Jenkins.”

She sniffed again. “That’s better. Insolence will not be tolerated. I know you’ve been … wherever for the last month, but the rules have not changed. You would do well to remember that.”

“Of course, Ms. Jenkins. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Her words seemed to drip poison when she said, “Yes. There is. You have been summoned. By Extremely Upper Management. Again. Tomorrow. Eight o’clock on the dot. Do not be late. Or do, and save me the trouble.”

She whirled around. “What are you all staring at? Get back to work!”

The caseworkers began to type immediately.

Ms. Jenkins glared at Linus over her shoulder once more before stalking away, Gunther trailing after her.

“I wonder who my new desk neighbor will be?” Mr. Tremblay asked.

Linus ignored him.

He stared down at the photograph.

Right below it was a mouse pad with a faded picture of a white sandy beach and the bluest ocean in all the world.

It said, of course, DON’T YOU WISH YOU WERE HERE?



* * *



By lunchtime, files had been piled on his desk. Dozens of them. He opened the top one. The last notes were his own. They hadn’t been touched in the last month. He sighed and closed it.



* * *



The office was empty by the time he left, a little before nine that night. He put the photograph in his briefcase and headed for home.



* * *



It was raining.

The bus was late.



* * *



On his porch sat a plastic bag filled with his mail. It was all bills. There was a note on the top. It was a receipt from Mrs. Klapper seeking reimbursement for gutting his flower bed.



* * *



He took the photograph out of his suitcase and set it on the nightstand next to his bed.

He watched it until he fell asleep.