But I answered.
“Emily.”
His voice sounded different.
Softer.
“Yes?”
“Come to the east dock at Lake Hart tonight at seven.”
I froze.
“Why?”
He remained silent for a few seconds.
Then he said:
“Dress up. And don’t tell anyone we’re meeting.”
I literally pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen.
“Mr. Wilson… I don’t understand.”
“I know. Trust me for a few more hours.”
And he hung up.
At that moment, all sorts of terrible possibilities raced through my mind.
Why had he said goodbye to me in front of everyone, only to ask me to meet him in secret later?
Why by a lake?
Why outside of work hours?
And strangest of all…
Why did I have to dress up?
I was almost certain I wouldn’t go.
But then I remembered his last words.
“Trust me for a few more hours.”
Shortly before seven, I arrived at the lake.
Mr. Wilson was already there.
He was wearing a red polo shirt and light-colored shorts; he looked nothing like the strict manager I saw at the office every day.
“You came,” he said.
“Yes. Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”
He looked around.
“We have to do something first.”
Then he handed his phone to a woman passing by.
“Would you mind taking a picture of us?”
I looked at him in confusion.
“A picture?”
“Yes. Just stand next to me and smile.”
That was when I started to feel uncomfortable.
If someone from the company saw us there, what would they think?
Worse yet…
What if that photo ended up somewhere? But he stepped up beside me, casually placed a hand behind my back, and we took a photo.
Then he took back his phone, looked at the image, and said:
—Good.
Dictionaries and encyclopedias
—And now?
His only reply was:
—Come to the office tomorrow at nine.
—But you fired me.
For the first time, he smiled.
