Chapter 5: The Man Who Didn't Want to Be Fixed
Raymond Mercer was watching a nature documentary when Abby got home.
He had the volume too loud, the way he always did since the stroke, and he didn't hear her come in.
She stood in the doorway for a moment watching him — the left side of his face slightly slack, his good hand wrapped around a mug of tea that had gone cold an hour ago.
She went to the kitchen and made him a fresh one.
"You're late," he said when she handed it to him.
"I had a conversation."
He looked at her over the rim.
Raymond Mercer had been a high school shop teacher for thirty years.
He could read a student's face across a noisy classroom.
"What kind of conversation?"
Abby sat on the arm of the couch.
She pulled the folded document from her pocket and held it in both hands without opening it.
"The man who owns the penthouse offered me a job," she said.
Raymond muted the television.
"What kind of job?"
"I don't know yet.
I haven't opened the contract."
"Why not?"
She looked at the document.
"Because I don't know what he wants."
"Did he say what he wants?"
"He said he wants to correct a mistake."
Raymond was quiet.
The muted television showed a whale moving through dark water.
"What mistake?" he asked.
"He tests his employees," Abby said.
"Leaves money out.
Sees if they take it."
Raymond's good hand tightened around the mug.
"And you—"
"I didn't take it."
He let out a long breath.
"He saw," Abby said.
"He was watching the whole time."
"And now he feels guilty," Raymond said.
"Maybe."
"Abby." Her father's voice was careful.
"Rich men don't offer things without wanting something back.
You know that."
"I know."
"So what does he want?"
"He said he's been looking at the wrong thing for eight years." She finally unfolded the document.
Her eyes moved down the page.
They stopped.
"Dad."
"What?"
She turned the document toward him.
Raymond squinted at the number on the page.
He read it twice.
His mug went down on the side table with a small hard sound.
"That's not a cleaning salary," he said.
"No," Abby said.
"It's not."
"What does he want you to do for that?"
"It says — household operations manager.
Full benefits.
Housing allowance." She looked up.
"He wants me to run the penthouse.
Scheduling, vendors, staff coordination."
Raymond stared at the document.
"That's a real job."
"Yes."
"That's a career."
"Yes, Dad."
He was quiet for a long time.
The whale on the muted screen turned slowly in the dark water and disappeared.
"Your mother would say take it," Raymond said finally.
Abby's throat tightened.
"I know what she'd say."
"But?"
"But I don't know if I trust it." She folded the document again.
"I don't know if I trust him."
Raymond reached over with his good hand and put it on top of hers.
"Then find out," he said.
"Before you decide."
She looked at him.
"How?"
He almost smiled.
"Ask him the question he doesn't expect."
Abby looked down at their hands — his large and scarred from thirty years of shop class, hers smaller but just as worn.
"And if he gives the wrong answer?" she asked.
"Then you walk away," Raymond said.
"You're good at that."
She laughed once, short and surprised.
Then she looked at the document in her lap, and the laugh faded, and something steadier took its place.
May you like
She had a question to ask Julian Cross.
She just needed to decide if she was ready to hear the answer.
