Page 130 of Due Diligence

“Can I get you anything?” I offered as I padded over to stand in front of them.

“What do you have?” mom asked.

“Water,” I said. “And that’s about it. I could make a pot of coffee. Oh, and I have every liquor on the planet. Bottom shelf, though, which I assume is a problem.”

I was baiting them at that point, delivering the kinds of responses that had historically riled them. To their credit, neither of them commented, although they werevisiblyrefraining from doing so. My father had even clenched his hand into a fist that rested on his knee.

“We’re fine,” he answered, speaking for both of them as usual.

I took a seat on Bethany’s pouf, which I immediately regretted because I found myself a few inches lower than my parents. The symbolism, naturally, wasn’t lost on any of us. I was small around them, as usual.

“How’d you find my apartment?”

“Google.” There was a tinge of pride in his voice. It was the kind of pride that could only come from a man who read a paper copy of theWall Street Journalevery morning one day realizing that his phone had access to the internet.

My eyes drifted to the window behind them. It was an overcast morning in New York with clouds blocking the sunlight and covering the neighborhood in a soft haze that clashed with the traffic din outside. The weather was similar the last time I saw them six years ago, in an apartment not much bigger than this one.

“You know my next question.” I returned my attention to their faces, swapping between the two of them. Dad would speak first, I assumed. Mom would nod silently, regardless of what he said.

“It’s been a long time, Cassandra,” he said after a beat.

“And that’s why you’re here?”

“We’re…concerned,” my mother finally said.

“Because I got fired?” I liked the way they both had to look away from me when I said that. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll get another job and I’ll start sending the money I owe you—”

“We don’t want your money,” my father interjected.

“You sure wanted it six years ago,” I reminded him. “Should I get the invoice? I still have it. It’s actually framed and hanging above my toilet.”

I wasn’t messing with him either; there was a framed printout of the invoice that my father sent me for the three months I spent in law school. It was mounted in a sleek gold frame I bought at Michael’s, and I ran a Windex wipe over the glass every time I cleaned the bathroom.

“That was…that was a mistake.”

“By who?” I drew my knees towards my chest. “It was incredibly intentional. Didn’t seem like a haphazard mistake to me.”

“It was just to prove a point. I truly didn’t think you were going to—”

“Dad, you’re a lawyer,” I snapped. “You know better than to send out documents without genuine intent.”

His chest rose and fell as he inhaled sharply and released the breath a moment later. “We’re simply here to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I’m great,” I declared as I climbed to my feet. “I’m going to find a new job, just like I always do. I’ve had plenty of practice, after all.”

Their silence spoke volumes. My mom’s brow furrowed as she watched me rise.

“Oh, Google didn’t tell you what I had to do when you cut me off?” I questioned facetiously.

“Cassandra—” My father began to raise his hand to interject, but we were way past those days in our relationship.

“First job I got was a part time receptionist job at a gym. Somehow, that included me disinfecting weights and lifting machines when there was down time, go figure. That really wasn’t cutting it though, so I also got a job at CVS, and whenthatwasn’t cutting it I started tending bar at night.”

At this point in my diatribe, my father had probably stopped breathing from surprise. He drew his hand up to rest on his stomach.

“Then the gym where I was working cut back on staff, so I went to a temp agency. They got me a filing job at Davenport-Ridgeway, which thankfully turned into a full-time job after the temp job ended. That was a huge relief. I finally had dental insurance again. What—mom really didn’t tell you any of this?”

“She told me you found a job,” he answered. “I really didn’t know that—”

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