Page 82 of Think Outside the Boss

“Hi,” she says. “I’m really sorry about this, you know.”

“I’m not,” I say, typing in the keycode for the elevator. “We’ll have your heater fixed tomorrow.”

“I don’t even know what happened. One moment, it was making a lot of noise and heat, and the next… complete silence. It won’t start,” she says. She gets into the elevator with me, but there’s hesitation in her features that she can’t quite hide.

“This is my private elevator,” I tell her. “It only goes to my apartment. I have it serviced twice a year.”

A shaky smile. “You’re telling me no elevator of yours would ever malfunction?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, yes. It wouldn’t dare to.”

And just like that, the ride is over. The doors open into my hallway. Freddie steps out, looking around, before turning to me with alarm in her eyes. “Your son. What did you tell him?”

“He’s not home tonight.”

Her eyes soften. “Right. Sorry, I just realized I had no idea what I was walking into.”

“No need to worry.”

“What were you doing tonight?”

“Come. I’ll show you.”

She follows me into the living room, lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that look over the park. The poker table is still in the middle, the coffee table shoved unceremoniously to the side. Four chairs are empty and abandoned around it.

Through Freddie’s eyes, this might look ostentatious. Showy. It screams of everything her apartment didn’t. Every descriptor an antonym.

“Wow,” she breathes. “The view must be amazing during the day.”

“It is. Especially after it’s snowed, actually. The entire park is white.”

She trails a hand along the green velvet that lines the poker table. Her eyes rest on the pile of hundred-dollar bills in the center. The guys must have forgotten to collect their winnings on the way out.

It looks obscene to me too, suddenly. But Freddie doesn’t comment, continuing on toward the gallery wall by the TV. Black and white pictures, all in dark frames.

I watch in silence as she takes them all in, seeing everything I’ve done in the past few years. Everything Joshua and I are, all that we’ve seen and all that we’ve lost.

Surprisingly, I don’t get the urge to cover them up.

“This one is gorgeous,” Freddie murmurs, stepping closer to a large, black and white photograph of a volcanic coastline.

I clear my throat. “Hawaii.”

“Oh?”

“Joshua and I took a helicopter. The photo’s taken from the air.”

Freddie studies the surrounding photographs. Joshua, standing at the foot of a waterfall in Yosemite. He’s grinning from ear to ear as the water cascades behind him at a ninety-feet drop. Something tiny compared to something huge. Another is Joshua, smaller than he is now, and myself on a boat in the Caribbean. Half of his small face is covered by a snorkel. He’s giving the camera a thumbs up and a smile lacking both front teeth.

“You really do take him everywhere,” Freddie murmurs.

“I try to, at least.”

“How come?” She works her way down the gallery wall, studying each photograph in turn.

“Well, I want him to see the world,” I say. It’s the truth, but it’s not all of it, and my response hangs in the air between us. Inadequate.

Freddie comes to a halt by the final black and white photograph. Jenny is smiling wide, her eyes laughing at the camera. The braid down her back has come half-undone in the whipping wind and tendrils of hair curve around her head like a halo.

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