Chapter 8 - I QUIT WORKING FOR NATHANIEL BEFORE I AGREED TO HAVE DINNER WITH HIM
I resigned three months later.
Nathaniel looked offended.
“Why?”
I stared.
“Really?”
He sighed.
“Fine.”
We were in his study.
Sophia at preschool.
Eli with his nanny.
The mansion quiet.
I placed my resignation letter on the desk.
“I cannot figure out whether I like you freely while you sign my paycheck.”
“I don’t personally sign—”
“Nathaniel.”
“Bad joke.”
“Yes.”
He leaned back.
“What will you do?”
“I accepted a position with a children’s rehabilitation center.”
His expression changed.
“You applied?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I stared.
He corrected.
“None of my business unless you wanted.”
Good.
“They need family-support coordinators.”
“My mother worked in special education.”
“I have childcare experience.”
“Administrative experience.”
“And apparently I’m good at finding hidden tapes.”
He smiled.
“Very marketable.”
Then his face became serious.
“Do you need references?”
“Yes.”
“From the household manager.”
“Not you.”
He laughed.
“Painful.”
“Healthy.”
“Apparently.”
I gave two weeks.
Nathaniel refused to make them sentimental.
Good.
My last day, staff held a small lunch.
Sophia cried because she thought leaving the job meant leaving Eli.
I crouched.
“You can still see him if Mr. Nathaniel and I agree.”
She looked at him.
“Agree.”
Nathaniel nodded solemnly.
“Agree.”
Eli said:
“Dance.”
Naturally.
We went to the ballroom.
The forbidden room was no longer forbidden.
Nathaniel had not reopened it for parties.
He reopened it for his son.
There was a difference.
We played Evelyn’s dance.
Sophia and Eli spun.
I sat beside Nathaniel.
When the song ended, he said:
“Now?”
“What?”
“Can I ask you to dinner?”
I smiled.
“Ask.”
“Would you have dinner with me Friday?”
“As?”
“A man who no longer employs you.”
“Good.”
“Yes.”
He actually looked nervous.
I enjoyed it.
Our first date happened at a small Mexican restaurant I chose.
Nathaniel arrived early.
No private room.
No security at the table.
One car outside because he was still Nathaniel Reed.
Reality.
He ordered badly.
I corrected him.
He let me.
We talked.
Not about Evelyn for the first hour.
Not Mateo.
Books.
Music.
Sophia.
Eli.
Nathaniel confessed he hated golf.
I nearly stood and applauded.
He said his board would consider it a betrayal.
I told him to be brave.
Then he asked:
“What did you want to do before Sophia?”
I thought.
“Dance.”
His face changed.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Professionally?”
“No.”
“I studied modern dance through college.”
“Then life happened.”
“Mateo?”
“Partly.”
“My mother got sick.”
“Money.”
“I stopped.”
He smiled faintly.
“That explains Sophia.”
“She stole everything.”
“Good genes.”
Then:
“Did you ever see Evelyn dance?”
“No.”
“Not alive.”
The phrase hurt.
“I feel strange copying her.”
Nathaniel looked toward the table.
“Why?”
“Because Sophia learned Evelyn’s movement.”
“Then I’m sitting here with Evelyn’s husband.”
He looked at me.
“I’m not Evelyn’s husband now.”
The sentence sounded wrong.
He corrected.
“I was.”
“You still are in some ways.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
He continued.
“But loving her memory does not make me married to the past.”
Good.
Then I said:
“I still wear Mateo’s ring sometimes.”
Nathaniel looked at my hand.
Not tonight.
“Would that bother you?”
“Probably some days.”
Honest.
“Would you ask me not to?”
“No.”
Good.
Dinner became easier.
At the end, Nathaniel walked me to my car.
“Another?”
“Yes.”
No kiss.
Not yet.
We dated for six months before he kissed me.
That was partly because every time the moment arrived, one child became sick.
Or cried.
Or Sophia spilled juice.
Parenting does not respect romance.
The kiss finally happened in my kitchen after I moved to a new apartment closer to work.
Sophia asleep.
Nathaniel had helped assemble a bookshelf.
Badly.
“You own a construction company.”
“I do not personally build.”
“Clearly.”
He laughed.
Then became quiet.
“Clara.”
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you?”
My heart slammed.
“Yes.”
Soft.
Careful.
I kissed him back.
Then stepped away.
“Okay.”
He smiled.
“Okay?”
“I need a minute.”
“Take ten.”
I laughed.
Then cried.
He immediately looked terrified.
“Bad?”
“No.”
“Mateo?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
No jealousy.
No reassurance speech.
I sat.
“It feels like leaving him.”
Nathaniel sat across from me.
“I know that feeling.”
“Evelyn?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The first time I laughed with you.”
My chest tightened.
“I went upstairs afterward and apologized to her photograph.”
I laughed through tears.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
“Did it help?”
“No.”
“Good.”
We sat.
Two widowed people discovering that happiness can feel disloyal before it feels hopeful.
Then Nathaniel said:
“I don’t want you to stop loving Mateo.”
“I don’t want you to stop loving Evelyn.”
“Then maybe we stop making dead people compete.”
I smiled.
“Probably.”
Our children handled the relationship better.
Sophia asked:
“Are you kissing Mr. Nathaniel?”
I nearly died.
“What?”
“I saw.”
Children are surveillance.
Nathaniel said:
“Yes.”
Sophia thought.
“Okay.”
Then:
“Does that make Eli my brother?”
“No,” both of us said.
Good.
Not yet.
Maybe never legally.
She looked disappointed.
Eli handed her a block.
Problem solved.
Then Reed Meridian faced its own rebuilding.
Nathaniel resigned as CEO for a year.
The board hired an outside executive.
He remained controlling shareholder and later executive chairman.
Why step back?
“Because I cannot rebuild a company while pretending the man who inherited it is automatically the man best qualified to repair it.”
Good.
He spent more time with Eli.
Not performatively.
Breakfast.
Daycare pickup.
Pediatric appointments.
He read medical records now.
Too much.
The pediatrician finally told him:
“You are not allowed to diagnose him from portal results.”
I liked her.
Nathaniel also created an independent whistleblower office outside management.
Aster victims received support.
No confidentiality requirement tied to medical facts.
The company survived.
Smaller.
Less shiny.
Better.
Then Maya called me.
Mateo’s estate had been awarded restitution from Marcus’s seized assets and a civil settlement from Reed Meridian’s insurer.
I stared at the amount.
Millions.
Too much.
I called Nathaniel.
“Did you do this?”
“No.”
“Did Reed pay?”
“The company’s insurer and settlement fund did.”
“Did you influence?”
“I recused.”
Good.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Whatever you choose.”
I cried.
Money could not bring Mateo back.
But it could pay for Sophia’s future.
My future.
Therapy.
A home.
I kept some.
Placed most in trust for Sophia.
Donated a portion to paramedic family-support programs after asking no one’s permission.
That mattered.
Then I made another choice.
I enrolled in dance classes again.
Adult beginner.
Even though I was not a beginner.
I wanted the humiliation.
Sophia came once.
She laughed at me.
Fair.
Nathaniel watched from the back.
After class:
“You looked happy.”
“I was.”
“Good.”
Then:
“Would you ever dance in the ballroom?”
I froze.
He saw.
“Too much?”
“Maybe.”
“Then no.”
I looked at him.
“Not no.”
“Later.”
He smiled.
“Later.”
That room had belonged to Evelyn’s grief.
May you like
Then Sophia’s discovery.
Maybe one day it could hold something new without erasing what came before.
Related Stories
