"The microloan's interest rate should be a fixed rate, in line with inflation—yes, this is Tom again."

I switched my phone to my other ear and did my best to swallow my rising sigh.

"We'll get questions on why a charity is charging interest rates," one of the PR assistants chimed in.

"Because inflation—"

I started to answer but Cynthia cut me off.

"Legacy Works is an ethically and financially responsible non-profit organization. Long-term change requires reinvestment, which requires return on successful investments. That's the answer."

There was murmuring in the background as the assistants attempted to jot down what Cynthia had dictated. I picked up my long empty coffee mug and walked round the kitchen counter to refill it.

"If that's all..." I started as I watched the steaming black liquid splash against the porcelain walls of the cup.

"You've got a call with the Footprint Foundation in ten minutes," Cynthia reminded me.

I took a sip and immediately hissed at the scorching temperature. "Yeah, I've got my notes right here."

Cynthia mumbled something and I heard the distinct sound of chairs moving followed by the whoosh of the conference door closing.

"It's just me," Cynthia announced.

"I'm set for the meeting," I assured her.

"How is she?"

I glanced up at the closed bedroom door and then back down at the bare counter. "They were close... incredibly so. It's not just something you get over."

"Tommy..." I grimaced at the hesitation in her voice. "It's been weeks since Alice... it's a horrible loss, but at some point she has to reenter the land of the living."

I said nothing, so she merely sighed.

"Has she at least come out of the bedroom yet?"

I took another sip of coffee, careful not to burn my tongue this time. "I've got that meeting."

She sighed again, heavier this time. "Tommy—"

"Thank you for holding down the fort. I'll be try and come in to the office for a few hours at some point this week."

I ended the call before she could respond and let me phone clatter onto the counter top.

My eyes lifted again to the bedroom door and silently willed it to open, even just a crack or a hair. Some movement to show me she was there, show she was trying...

My phone trilled again, and the door remained steadfastly shut. I took a final swig of my coffee before picking it up again and swiping the screen.

"Hey, Bill. Yes, I'm ready for you. I've got my notes right here..."

❤️