Playing Broke at My Reunion

When I got home, I dug an old high school yearbook out of storage. A decade of dust came off the cover.

I flipped to the class photo and found her in the back row. Heavy bangs. Black-framed glasses.

Grace Quinn.

The memories came back all at once.

On graduation day she'd stopped me outside school with a pink envelope clutched in both hands, her face bright red. Half our classmates were standing nearby, laughing and cheering her on.

I was eighteen, arrogant and full of myself.

"I'm not interested in you."

I said it in front of everyone, and then I walked away.

Ten years later, she hadn't held it against me. The moment she thought I was ruined, she sent me everything she had.

Guilt hit me hard enough to make my chest ache.

I picked up my phone and called my executive assistant.

"Miles."

"Yes, Mr. Hawthorne?"

"Look someone up for me. Grace Quinn. We went to high school together."

Miles was efficient. Ten minutes later a file landed in my inbox.

Grace Quinn. Twenty-eight. Cardiology nurse at Metro General Hospital.

Single. Small social circle. Her only real hobby was traveling when she could afford it.

Her parents had divorced when she was young, and she'd worked her way into a steady hospital job on her own. Her life was ordinary, steady, hard-earned.

I looked at the photo attached to the file. The glasses were gone. Her eyes were still gentle, but there was something stronger in them now.

She had grown into herself.

I called Miles again.

"Put me in an entry-level administrative job at the company."

There was a pause.

"Three or four thousand a month. Something boring.

"And rent me a one-bedroom near Metro General. Older building, nothing luxury. The worse it looks, the better."

Miles finally recovered. "Understood, Mr. Hawthorne."

The next morning I showed up at a Hawthorne Group administrative office in a cheap gray suit.

The department manager saw me and started to straighten up and greet me by name. I gave her one look. She went rigid and swallowed the words, "Mr. Hawthorne."

At 5:30 I clocked out like everyone else.

I stopped at a soup place near the hospital, the one people line up for, and bought two containers of chowder.

Then I took the subway across town. It had been years since I'd been packed into a train like that.

By the time I reached Metro General it was already dark. It was the first time I had ever come to wait for her.

I stood outside in the cold and watched the doors.

Ten minutes later, she appeared.

Grace wore a beige coat, her head lowered. The moment she saw me she stopped. Then she walked straight toward me.

"Ryan?"

Her voice was soft.

I rubbed my hands together and made myself look awkward.

"I just started a new job nearby."

I held up the insulated bag.

"I got the hundred thousand. Thank you.

"You just finished your shift, right? I figured you probably haven't eaten. I brought dinner."

Grace took the bag. "Thanks."

That was how it started.

For the next two weeks I lived the most absurd double life of my career. Every morning I went to work as an entry-level clerk in my own company. Every afternoon at 5:30 I clocked out. And every evening I went to Metro General to wait for Grace.

After the first few days, she started bringing an extra meal from the hospital cafeteria for me too.