The door slammed.
Harold came back on the line.
“Do you understand how embarrassing that was?”
I looked at my cast.
Then at the two lunchboxes I’d packed that morning.
“Harold, I didn’t write that poster.”
“You put it in my car.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she’d see it.”
“I knew it was there.”
“Scarlett.”
“Apparently the passenger seat comes with complimentary document review.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“You’re right.”
My voice changed.
“It isn’t.”
Silence.
“I have to go.”
“Don’t be late.”
He hung up.
I expected Harold to come home furious.
Instead, Adele called me that afternoon.
“I hope this isn’t inappropriate.”
I looked at the laundry basket beside me.
“I think we passed inappropriate around breakfast.”
She laughed nervously.
Then she became serious.
“There’s something you should probably know.”
“What?”
“Harold talks about you at work.”
My hand stopped over a sock.
“What does he say?”
“Nothing terrible.”
There are sentences you never want to hear.
That is one of them.
“He says you’re very particular.”
“About what?”
“Everything, I guess.”
