Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO SIGNED HER OWN NAME
I filed for divorce on a Thursday.
It was raining.
The courthouse smelled like wet coats and old paper.
I wore a navy blouse and carried a folder containing the documents Meredith had prepared.
Five years of marriage reduced to legal descriptions.
Dates.
Addresses.
Financial disclosures.
A statement that the marriage had broken down irretrievably.
I signed where Meredith indicated.
Then sat back.
I expected to feel devastated.
Instead, I felt tired.
And strangely relieved.
Kyle called twenty minutes after he was served.
I let it ring.
He called again.
Then texted.
You actually filed?
I didn't answer.
Another message arrived.
Over a piece of cake?
I stared at the screen.
He still didn't understand.
Or perhaps understanding would require him to admit too much.
I forwarded the message to Meredith.
At work, the independent review continued.
Patricia interviewed members of the marketing team.
Procurement provided authorized records directly to the review team.
Finance examined the campaign forecasts.
I kept doing my job.
Payroll deadlines didn't stop because my marriage was ending.
Employees still needed accurate paychecks.
Overtime calculations still needed verification.
The ordinary work was comforting.
Numbers had rules.
Relationships apparently didn't.
One afternoon, Margaret Voss asked to see me.
The founder had retired from daily operations but remained chair of the board.
She was in her seventies, with silver hair and sharp blue eyes.
I entered her office nervously.
“Mrs. Voss?”
She smiled.
“Eleanor. Sit down.”
I did.
She studied me for a moment.
“I understand you've had a difficult week.”
I lowered my eyes.
“Yes.”
“I'm sorry.”
I nodded.
She leaned forward.
“I want you to know something. Your work here has been exemplary.”
My throat tightened.
“Thank you.”
“You've caught payroll discrepancies that saved this company significant money.”
I smiled faintly.
“That's my job.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Doing your job well is not something to dismiss.”
I looked at her.
She continued.
“Whatever happens in your personal life, I don't want you questioning your professional value.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“I appreciate that.”
Margaret stood.
“Good.”
Then she smiled.
“Now go make sure everyone gets paid correctly.”
I laughed.
“Yes, ma'am.”
That evening, I returned home and found a letter taped to the front door.
Kyle's handwriting.
You can't erase five years just because you're angry.
I stood in the hallway holding the paper.
Then I turned it over.
On the back, I wrote one sentence.
I didn't erase them. I lived them.
May you like
I placed the letter in my legal folder.
And went inside.
