"For what?"

"For making my son cry," said Denise Pryce. "It's been a long time coming."

Administrative Leave

The letter arrived on Friday, delivered by courier to Marcus's office and read aloud at ten in the morning in a low, unhappy voice.

It came from Aurelia Motor Company's regional headquarters in Detroit and had been signed by a woman whose name Brandon did not recognize. It stated that the dealership's conduct toward a former employee and distinguished guest had been brought to the attention of senior leadership. It stated that Aurelia was deeply troubled. It stated, in language so smooth it was nearly weightless, that all individuals involved in the incident would be placed on a mandatory suspension of one week pending formal review.

Marcus finished reading and set the paper on the desk.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's out of my hands."

Brandon sat in the visitor's chair with his arms folded across his chest. The warning he had signed on Wednesday lay in the folder between them. Two days later it already felt like a different life.

"Paid or unpaid?" he asked.

Marcus hesitated.

"Unpaid," Brandon said.

"I argued." Marcus rubbed his knuckles. "I told them it was disproportionate. I told them you'd already been disciplined internally, and that you'd shown remorse. But the video's up to nine million views. They've got to be seen doing something."

"So I'm the something."

"You're the something." Marcus met his eyes. "I'm sorry. I mean that."

Brandon nodded slowly. He thought he should be angry, but the anger would not come. It had burned itself out sometime during that long night in the showroom. In its place was a flat, dry quiet, the kind he remembered from the day he had learned his father was not coming back. All right, he thought. So this is what it costs.

"How long before they decide?" he asked.

"A week. Possibly two. After that, it depends." Marcus looked at the window, at the cloudy sky. "I'll be honest with you, Brandon. I don't know if there'll be a job for you at the end of it."

"I understand."

"I'd like to help. I don't know how."

"You've done enough." Brandon stood, and the movement felt unexpectedly steady. "Thank you for being straight with me. You didn't have to."

"You were my best. I wasn't going to lie to you."

Was. Brandon let the word pass. He gathered the folder, shook Marcus's hand, and walked out onto the showroom floor, where a few of his colleagues were working at a pretense of normalcy. Kyle glanced at him and gave a small, awkward nod, the nod of one man at another's funeral. Dev lifted a hand.

At the reception desk, Lucy was standing with her purse over her shoulder, as if she had been waiting.

"I took my lunch break early," she said. "Walk you to your car?"

They went out together into a pale, cool morning. The lot was nearly empty. It had been that way for two days, a stillness that felt like mourning, the rows of cars gleaming for no one. The wind carried the smell of wet leaves.

"I'm sorry about the suspension," Lucy said.

"Don't be. It's fair."

"It's the company covering itself."

"It can be both." He unlocked his car and stood with his hand on the roof. "Lucy. I never thanked you. For picking up the pin. For telling Marcus. I know that's why any of this happened, and I know I should hate you for it. But I don't. I think you're the reason I'm finally seeing it."

She looked down at her shoes. "I didn't do it to hurt you."

"I know."

"I did it because the pin didn't belong in my pocket."

"No." He smiled, faintly, a smile with nothing performed in it. "It really didn't."

A silence settled between them, not uncomfortable. Somewhere over the building, a flock of starlings wheeled in the gray sky, turning all at once as though at a signal.

"Where will you go?" she asked.

He drew a breath. "Maple Hollow Road."

"Marcus said not to."

"I know. I'm going anyway. I'm not going to ask for anything. I'm not going to defend myself. I just—" He stopped, and tried again. "I've spent my whole life making sure I was never the one who had to say sorry first. I want to know what it feels like."

Lucy studied his face for a long moment.

"Be careful," she said. "His friend is a bear. Marcus met him. Eddie something. He said the man is built like a refrigerator and talks like a sergeant."

"I'll bring a helmet."

She laughed, a short, startled laugh, and then covered her mouth, as though embarrassed to have found something funny. "Go on," she said. "And Brandon?"

"Yes?"

"Don't wear the blue tie."