Chapter 3 - The Umbrella and the Shoes
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Emily was halfway through changing out of her grease-stained kitchen uniform when she felt a presence near the employee lockers. She slammed her locker shut and spun around. The stranger was leaning against the wall, watching her.
She instantly stiffened, crossing her arms defensively. “If you’re here to convince me not to press charges against the Carter family to avoid a scandal for the hospital, save your breath.”
“I’m not,” he said.
“Then what do you want?”
He hesitated. For a man who had commanded the hallway like a king, he suddenly looked unsure of what to do with his hands. “My name is Jack.”
Emily narrowed her eyes. She had spent a lifetime dodging debt collectors and dealing with a cheating husband; she knew a lie when she heard one. But she played along. “You work here, Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
He glanced toward a heavy gray door labeled MAINTENANCE. “Facilities.”
Emily’s gaze slowly dragged from his intense eyes, down his perfectly tailored slacks, landing on his feet. “Facilities.”
“Yes.”
“Those shoes,” Emily said, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “are hand-finished Italian leather. They cost more than my washing machine. You wear those to unclog toilets?”
Alexander looked down at his feet, silently cursing his morning wardrobe choice. He had negotiated billion-dollar pharmaceutical acquisitions with less anxiety than he felt right now under the scrutiny of this woman. “I’m... management-adjacent.”
Emily let out a sharp, genuine laugh. It was the first time she had laughed all day. “Management-adjacent? That sounds like something people say when their real job requires a badge they don’t want to show.”
She slung her battered canvas bag over her shoulder and pushed through the exit doors. Outside, a brutal North Carolina rainstorm was violently hammering the pavement. Emily popped open a cheap, faded umbrella. One of the spokes was entirely snapped, making the fabric droop pitifully to the side.
Alexander stared at it. “That thing isn’t protecting anyone.”
“It has survived four storms and one angry pigeon,” Emily shot back, stepping into the downpour.
Alexander stepped out into the rain with her, the water instantly ruining his shirt.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Walking you to the bus stop.”
“I know where it is, Jack.”
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“I know. But what happened to you today shouldn't have happened.”
Emily stopped in the rain, looking up at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like I’m a charity project. I don't need a savior.”
