Chapter 5: Statuses

"Is that blazer from a thrift store? How brave of you."

Vivian Cole didn't look up from her screen when she said it. She was the senior analyst on the fortieth floor, with perfect hair and a voice like honey with a knife in it.

"It was four dollars," I said. "It fits."

"I'm sure it does." Now she looked at me. "Mr. Hale hired you in twenty-five minutes. The rest of us went through three rounds of interviews. Everybody's wondering what you did."

"I read a budget."

"Of course you did." She dropped a thick folder on my desk. It landed with a thud. "Welcome to Finance. Three years of vendor ledgers. I need every duplicate charge flagged by Friday. Don't worry if it's too much. Some people just aren't built for numbers."

Some women just aren't built for it, dear. For a second, I heard Callan's mother. My jaw tightened.

"Friday," I said. "No problem."

Two desks over, someone whispered bakery girl. Someone else whispered hired on the spot. They didn't say the rest out loud. They didn't have to.

I worked through lunch that day and ate crackers at my desk. I counted every line like it was a rent notice.

That night, six kids waited at the door like a tiny welcome committee.

"Did you meet the boss?" Noah asked. "Is he mean?"

"He's very serious."

"Is that the same as mean?" Lily asked.

"Sometimes."

"Does he have kids?" Max asked, with his mouth full of Dot's stew.

My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth. "No. He doesn't."

"That's sad," Mia said. "A giant building and no kids to run in it."

Across the table, Dot looked at me. She didn't say a word. She didn't have to.

After dinner, I spread the ledgers across the living room floor. The kids were supposed to be asleep. Leo crept out of bed and sat down beside me in his pajamas.

"Mom, these two are twins." He pointed at two lines on the page. Same vendor. Same date. Same amount.

"They're not twins, baby. They're duplicates."

"Same thing," Leo said.

It was. I kissed his head and sent him back to bed. Then I worked until two in the morning with that word stuck in my head. Twins.

I sent my report at 6:12 on Wednesday evening. Four minutes later, Vivian's email landed. Did you even check it? I'd checked it four times.

On Thursday morning, Julian called my desk. "Boss wants you. Now. Don't panic."

I panicked all the way up the elevator.

Gideon stood behind his desk with my report in his hand. He didn't say hello. He never did.

"Two point one million dollars," he said. "Three years of the same invoices billed twice. My auditors missed it."

"I just looked closely."

"Ms. Cole assigned this?"

"Yes."

"Due Friday?"

"Yes."

"You finished Wednesday." He set the report down. "How?"

"I had help." The truth slipped out again. "A very small, very smart consultant."

His eyes narrowed. "Who?"

My heart flipped. "My neighbor's kid. He likes numbers."

It wasn't even a good lie. But Gideon stared at me for a long second, and then something in his face eased, like he'd decided to let it go.

"Ms. Cole gave you three years of work and three days to do it," he said. "Someone will try that again. Something built to make you fail. Don't let them."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know how this building works." He said it quietly, like a fact he'd learned the hard way. "Also, you leave at exactly five every day."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. It's curious."

"I have people to get home to."

His hand tightened on the folder. Just a little. "Family?"

"Yes."

He nodded once. "That's all. Go back to work."

I got to the door before I realized I'd been holding my breath for two minutes. I should have been afraid of him. Instead, my heart was going too fast. You don't get to feel that, I told myself. He thinks you're a stranger.

Back at my desk, Vivian had a new folder waiting and a very red face. Julian told me later that Gideon had called her in for a talk. She didn't say a word about it.

"Don't think one lucky catch makes you special," she said instead.

"It wasn't luck," I said. "It was a long night and a five-year-old."

She stared at me. I realized what I'd said. "My neighbor's," I added. "The consultant."

On Friday, at 4:40, my phone buzzed. Dot.

"Amy. The van died. I took the bus. We're in your lobby."

"Your what?"

"I don't have my keys, and you have the only set. Don't yell. Just come."

I ran. One elevator ride that felt like a year. When the doors opened, I saw six small backpacks lined up by the fountain like soldiers.

"Mom's building has a fountain!" Noah said.

"Can we throw pennies?" Zoe asked. Her toaster robot was beeping in her hands.

"Ma'am," the guard said, "children can't wait in the lobby."

"Five minutes. I swear."

That's when the front doors opened. A black car had pulled up outside. The guard straightened like someone had pulled a string. "Mr. Hale is coming in."

My blood went cold.

Gideon. Julian next to him, talking fast. Twenty steps away.

"Statues!" I hissed. "New game! Everyone freeze behind the big plant. Whoever moves first loses!"

"What do we win?" Noah whispered.

"Ice cream. Go!"

Six kids dove behind a plant the size of a small tree. Dot pulled Max down by his collar. I ducked behind a pillar and pressed my face to the cold marble.

I was thirty-one years old, hiding from my boss while six kids hid in a houseplant. Six years of careful plans, and it all came down to a plant.

Footsteps. Julian's voice. "...the board wants an answer by Monday."

"Then they'll wait."

They were passing the plant. I stopped breathing.

Beep.

Zoe's robot.

Gideon stopped. He turned his head toward the plant. The silence stretched until I thought I'd faint.

A giggle came out of the leaves. Then a whisper that was much too loud. "I'm winning!"

Gideon stood there. His face didn't change, but his eyes stayed on that plant for a long, strange moment, like a man listening to a song he half remembered.

"Sir?" Julian said.

"Nothing." He walked on. "A kid's toy, I think."

The elevator doors closed. I slid down the pillar and sat on the floor.

"We won," Zoe announced, climbing out of the plant. "Where's the ice cream?"

Dot came up beside me and handed me my own keys. Wait, no. I handed her the keys. My hands were shaking too hard to get them out of my bag.

"That man," she said, watching the elevator. "That's your boss?"

"Yes."

Dot looked at the six faces behind the plant. Then back at the elevator. "Hm," she said.

"Don't."

"I didn't say a thing."

I spent the whole weekend sure I'd imagined it. He didn't see us. He just heard a toy.

On Monday morning, Julian caught me at the coffee machine.

"Weird thing," he said, stirring his cup. "The boss asked security for the lobby camera footage from Friday."

My coffee stopped halfway to my mouth.

"Why?"

"No idea. He said he heard kids." Julian shrugged. "Probably nothing. Right?"

"Right," I said. My voice sounded far away.

Rule two: keep them hidden. I'd been in the building five days.