The Speed of Light: A Novel(44)

I’m satisfied now with my successful adulting, and when the meeting ends, I bounce back to my office and throw my focus into the story about the bicycling alum—hmm, better ask her to email me a high-res picture. My fingers fly over the keys, and I don’t notice the figure lurking in my office doorway until a throat clears. I look up in surprise. “Oh. Hi, Louise.”

“Hello, Simone. How are you?”

The tone, the emphasis—they’re nails on a chalkboard, and yet I keep my smile. “I’m fine, thanks.” Stan’s wife is a nice lady—she is—and yet there’s something about her that’s hard to pinpoint. It’s like she goes through the motions of being friendly, checks off all the boxes required to be a polite person, but it seems false somehow, like the boxes are empty. “How are you?”

She sighs, tucks a lock of her graying blonde hair behind her ear. “Can’t complain.” Her eyes dart back and forth across the office before resting on me again. “Is Stan around, by any chance? He’s not answering his cell, so maybe he’s in a meeting?”

I click over to our shared calendars, scan his column. “Hmm . . . nothing scheduled, but something might’ve come up. Do you want me to try emailing him? Sometimes it’s easier to respond to emails in a meeting than a phone call.”

“No,” she says quickly, then pauses, composes herself. “It’s not important. You don’t even need to tell him I was here.”

There’s a twinge to her voice now, a crack in her smile, but I nod. “Okay.”

She smiles a moment longer. “Stan said you’ve started dating someone?”

I blush, silently cursing myself for not just ignoring Stan last week when he asked, Say, whatever happened to that young man from the construction tour? “Um, yeah,” I say now to Louise. “A few months ago.”

There’s no denying the sadness in her smile. “Ah, so new. Enjoy it.” Then she’s gone, as if she were an apparition I’d simply imagined.

I shake my head, pop back into Microsoft Word, and try to type again, but my fingers lag and I stare at the doorway where Louise had stood. There’s something strange going on with those two. Distracted now, I click open Facebook for some good old-fashioned social media stalking.

I’m a week back on Stan’s profile page when another figure looms, clears his throat. I look up, automatically clicking back into Word.

Chet raises his eyebrows. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your busy schedule.”

My face blazes, but I straighten my shoulders, trying to hide my embarrassment from the admissions director. “Uh, hi. Can I help you with something?”

A smile slides across Chet’s face, and yet somehow that only makes me more uneasy. “Do you know where Stan is?” His voice is quiet, yet there’s a heaviness behind it, like something’s simmering beneath the surface.

“His wife was just here looking for him, too. He must be out, because I just checked for her, and there’s nothing on his calendar this afternoon.”

Chet runs a hand through his perfectly clipped dark hair, peering at me like he’s calculating, then finally sighs. “I just don’t understand how you have no idea where your boss is in the middle of a workday.”

My defenses shoot up. “Well, I mean, I think he had a video to work on, so maybe he’s out shooting some footage with the videographer.” I scrunch up my face, thinking. “Or that might be tomorrow . . .”

Chet raises his eyebrows for a full two seconds before his lips curl up, his smile crueler than before. “So you don’t know anything?”

I ball my fists. “Last time I checked, it wasn’t part of my job description to keep tabs on my boss. We’re a little too busy over here to do that.”

He throws a pointed glance at my computer screen before his icy eyes cut back to me. “Yeah, it sure looked that way. Perhaps you can find the time to give Stan a message for me?” I fight to keep my face blank, fuming inside, as he continues. “I came over here to tell your boss that Joel over in Financial Aid has been let go.”

My eyes widen. “Why?” I don’t really know Joel, but he’s always seemed friendly. Nikki said he has two daughters in high school he likes to brag about.

“Used up his FMLA.” Chet shrugs, indifferent. “Rules are rules. Weakness doesn’t give you a pass.”

I shrink back from the sting of this callous dismissal. But Chet is oblivious—or maybe that’s part of his game, a cat toying with his mouse before he destroys it. “Fortunately, his duties were absorbed by the rest of his department, but if someone in your office could find time in your extremely busy schedules to update the website accordingly, that would be—” Suddenly he turns, a look of irritation quickly replaced by a tight smile. “Can I help you?”

Connor steps into view, arms crossed, stony gaze on Chet, who takes a step back. “I’m here to see Simone.” Connor’s voice is one step above a growl, and I’ve never loved him more.

“Ah, well. We were just finishing up.” Chet’s face is red now as he turns to me. “Have Stan call me when he comes back from wherever he is.” His eyes flit to Connor, then back to me. “Please.”

He walks away and Connor glowers after him. “Who was that?” He turns to look at me. “You okay?”