Page 79 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
The company Slack chat was all lit up. Oliver chewed on the inside of his cheek as he opened it.
He was assaulted by a thread that had started yesterday, lively with comments. Pinned to the top was a video segment fromThe Today Show, featuring a resurfaced clip of his CNBC interview where he’d fallen apart and said awful things about the paper roses.
“Oh god… no, please, no…”
But, of course, he had to watch the video.
There he was, sitting in front of that pristinely curated bookshelf at Hawthorne Drake, so cocky as he sneered at the idiots who wanted so desperately to believe in something good that they’d latched onto origami flowers. Every word dripped with superciliousness. How had he gotten so insufferable?
And even worse, he now knew those paper roses were Chloe’s.
Oliver’s heart sank, a ship going down in flames.
Chloe
First thing in the morning, Chloe rolled over in bed and grabbed her phone. Jennifer had begun the process for the incorporation of the Paper Roses Foundation two days ago, and she’d said that everything ought to be ready today. It was a fast turnaround, but she assured Chloe that her friends owed her a few favors and would be able to move quickly to get the paperwork ready for signature.
Chloe had been so keyed up with excitement about it last night, she’d had to take a sleeping pill and turn her phone off so she could get any rest at all and not be tempted to check it every hour.
But as she squinted at the brightness of her phone and opened her email, there was nothing new there. She checked her texts, but only the conversation from last night was there:
Chloe:Hi Jennifer! Just wanted to say again how much I appreciate your help with the Paper Roses Foundation. Checking in if you or your friends needed any more info from me? Thanks!
Jennifer:Don’t worry, I’ve got it all under control. Have a nice evening and get ready for great things in the morning.
Chloe:You’re the best! Thanks again and good night!
It’s fine, Chloe thought.It’s barely past seven a.m. I’m way too jumpy.
She took a long, hot shower, forcing herself to slow down before she was allowed to look at her phone again. She tried to be present in the moment when she brushed her teeth, thinking about scrubbing small circles on every single tooth. It was a little weird, though, to focus too hard when she was putting in her contact lenses; it made her cross-eyed and then she hadto start over again. Which was perhaps not a terrible thing, since she was trying to burn time.
Still, after her hair had been dried and she finished her morning routine, it was only 8:21, and her inbox remained empty.
“Relax, read a book, and eat some breakfast,” she said, laughing at herself under her breath.
She made herself some chocolate chip waffles and tried to chew very slowly, all while attempting to concentrate on the murder mystery she was halfway through. (She failed on the concentration front and probably missed half the clues that were dropped in the three chapters she “read.”)
When Becca left for work, Chloe finally allowed herself to check her phone again. The morning was nearly over, so the documents from Jennifer’s accountant and lawyer friends were probably in Chloe’s inbox.
But once again, there was nothing. Chloe frowned.
Chloe:Good morning, Jennifer! Checking in over here. Sorry if I’m overeager, I’m just really excited!
A second later, a red exclamation point popped up and read: “Message Not Delivered.”
“Weird.” Chloe had never had a problem with the cellular network in her apartment. She tried to send the message again.
Almost instantly, another red exclamation point appeared. “Message Not Delivered.”
Chloe decided to call Jennifer. That was the fastest way anyway. But no sooner had Chloe dialed the number than a mechanical recording answered and said, “This number is no longer in service.”
Her stomach went into free fall.
“No…”
But the past reared its head, and Chloe could again hear the rumors that had circulated sixteen years ago after the Jones family disappeared—a prior rap sheet of con after con after con. Pyramid schemes. Massive international fraud. Fronting for a drug cartel.
Everyone had been so eager to paint a villain story. But Chloe had resisted. Not only because they were impugning Oliver’s character byassociation, but also because even at sixteen, Chloe didn’t want to be the kind of person who relished mean gossip. So Chloe refused to succumb to the rumors that were circulating about the family, which grew more exaggerated every time she heard one, like a salacious game of telephone.
