Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO REFUSED TO BE A PROBLEM
Adrien Voss had a reputation that made people whisper.
I discovered that approximately twenty minutes after leaving The Linden Room.
I was sitting in my car, trying to decide whether crying would help my financial situation, when my phone buzzed.
A text from my friend and former coworker, Nina.
SOPHIE. DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU JUST YELLED AT?
I typed back.
A guy with excellent tailoring and questionable social skills?
Her response came immediately.
ADRIEN VOSS. THE ADRIEN VOSS.
I stared.
Then searched his name.
The results were not reassuring.
Businessman.
Real estate investor.
Private security executive.
Alleged connections to organized crime.
Rumored influence over several Chicago criminal organizations.
No convictions.
Lots of speculation.
And photographs of a man who never smiled.
I looked at my phone.
Then at the restaurant.
"Wonderful," I whispered.
I had apparently insulted a mafia boss before lunch.
I was about to start the Honda when someone tapped on my window.
I nearly screamed.
Mrs. Ellis stood outside, smiling.
I rolled down the glass.
"Mrs. Ellis?"
"May I sit with you?"
I looked toward the restaurant.
"Where's your son?"
"Being dramatic somewhere."
I laughed despite myself.
She climbed into the passenger seat with surprising determination.
The car smelled faintly of old coffee and the vanilla air freshener I'd bought six months earlier.
Mrs. Ellis looked around.
"Charming."
"That's a generous word for it."
She smiled.
Then her expression softened.
"I'm sorry about your job."
I shrugged.
"Daniel's been looking for an excuse for months."
"Why?"
"Because I don't pretend he's brilliant."
Mrs. Ellis laughed.
Then she looked at my hands.
They were rough from work.
A small burn marked my wrist.
My nails were short.
"You have someone depending on you," she said.
It wasn't a question.
I nodded.
"My mother."
"Is she ill?"
I hesitated.
"She has rheumatoid arthritis. Some days are better than others."
Mrs. Ellis's expression changed.
"Does she live with you?"
"Yes."
"And you work long hours?"
"Usually."
Mrs. Ellis was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "Adrien thinks I need someone to manage my life."
I looked at her.
"Do you?"
She smiled sadly.
"Sometimes I forget things."
"Everybody forgets things."
"Not like this."
I turned toward her.
For the first time, I noticed the worry behind her smile.
She looked down at her hands.
"My doctor says I have mild cognitive impairment. It doesn't mean I can't make decisions. But Adrien hears the word impairment and imagines I'm going to wander into traffic."
I nodded slowly.
"That must be frustrating."
"It is."
She looked at me.
"Everyone speaks to him now. Not to me."
Something tightened in my chest.
I knew what that felt like.
When my mother's arthritis worsened, doctors sometimes addressed me instead of her.
As though pain had made her invisible.
I looked at Mrs. Ellis.
"Then maybe your son needs someone to remind him you're still a person."
She smiled.
"That's what I told him."
I laughed.
Then she reached into her purse.
"I'd like to offer you a job."
I stared.
"Didn't Adrien already try that?"
"Adrien offered you a job helping him manage me."
She lifted her chin.
"I'm offering you a job helping me manage him."
I blinked.
May you like
Then burst out laughing.
For the first time that day, the laughter felt good.
