Page 31 of Love & Other Disasters

“Yes,” he conceded, “but, I can’t get them.”

Violet scrunched up her nose. “But you’re the CFO?”

He smiled, she was adorable. “I’m not a board member, yet. It’s not an automatic posting. If anyone could read the minutes, then boards would be less open to discuss business in the meeting.”

“There’s no way to find out how Bob voted in that meeting.” She slumped in the seat. “But if he were involved, would he still be here?”

“People do strange things.” J.P. stared at her. He wasn’t only talking about the business. He should leave their personal issues alone, but he was too tired to care. It all weighed heavy, crushing him to where separating his feelings for what she did wasn’t possible. She met his eyes and in a moment shrank in front of him. Violet was a conundrum.

“You’re not talking about the company anymore,” she said.

“I’m not… we need to talk about it.”

“There’s so much going on right now. You don’t have time—”

“Here’s the thing,” he cut her off, “not knowing is already a distraction. And I’m certain you will ignore this forever and never talk to me about it.”

“I just came in here to tell you, you’re scaring everyone and might want to pull it together.” Violet stood, pointing at his desk. “I’m keeping all of this quiet not for you, but for everyone else left out there. I don’t want to cause a panic. If this place is going under, you need to give everyone time to find jobs.”

“I’m working to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

She nodded, and moved toward the door.

“Violet, wait…”

She paused. “I need to keep this separate from that night.” She left without giving him a chance for a counter offer.

After a few minutes, he opened the company messenger.

Jordan: How about Sunday at a neutral site?

Violet: No. I have a family dinner, and that’s hard enough.

That afternoon, he refused to work late another day in a row. He had to get out of the office, exercise, eat, and, if possible, sleep. After the employees left, he packed up his computer and hit the door. He pulled out of the parking lot and into stopped traffic behind a car that looked like Violet’s.

A homeless man holding a sign approached Violet’s car. She waved at him. The man bent, and they conversed for a minute, he took something offered, and backed away waving. Then the line of cars moved. The man stared into the bag. J.P. rolled down the passengers’ window and called to him.

“What did that lady give you?” he asked, after the man approached.

“Who? Miss Violet?”

“Yeah.” The homeless man knew her name?

“Well, she gives me stuff all the time. Sometimes a sandwich, sometimes a couple dollars if she don’t have food with her.”

“Do you know her?”

“No, sir. She stops ‘cause she want to.”

A car behind him honked, and he had to move. “Thank you,” he said, holding out a ten. The man snatched it.

“God bless you,” he cried.

J.P. nodded, and had to drive away. She handed out food and money to a random homeless man. Would a selfish liar do that? Perhaps his first impression of her was correct after all?

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