Chapter 15 - THE PAPER DENISE WOULDN’T SIGN.
“Don’t go there.”
Sarah said it twice.
Gaby was halfway down the apartment stairs when the attorney called.
“Why?”
“Because this is Denise’s employment situation.”
“She’s scared.”
“I know.”
“She has kids.”
“I know.”
“She asked me what to do.”
“Then tell her to read anything before signing it and consider getting advice.”
“That sounds useless.”
“It sounds legal.”
Gaby stopped beside Robert’s car.
Robert had followed but stayed several feet behind.
Sarah continued.
“If you show up at Caldwell while they’re meeting with Denise, they may characterize it as interference.”
“I’m not trying to interfere.”
“Intent isn’t the only thing people argue about.”
Gaby closed her eyes.
“What do I do?”
“Support Denise. Don’t become her lawyer.”
Gaby hated it.
Then she realized something.
This was the same problem she had with Robert.
Helping could become control.
She called Denise.
“Don’t sign anything you don’t understand.”
“That’s what Sarah said?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“They’re waiting.”
“You can ask for time.”
“They said it’s routine.”
“Then routine can wait long enough for you to read it.”
Denise breathed.
“Will Sarah talk to me?”
“I’ll ask.”
Sarah agreed to connect Denise with another attorney to avoid conflicts.
Gaby stayed in the parking lot.
Robert leaned against the car.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
She looked at him.
“I want to walk in there.”
“I know.”
“I want to tell Trent he’s a coward.”
“I know.”
“I want to tell Martin twenty-five thousand dollars doesn’t turn this into a misunderstanding.”
“I know.”
“And I want Denise to keep her job.”
Robert nodded.
“That’s the hard part.”
Gaby looked at him.
“You ever have employees who didn’t complain because they were scared?”
Robert took too long answering.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because sometimes they complained after they quit.”
That answer stayed between them.
Robert stared across the parking lot.
“One machinist told me his supervisor screamed at people every morning.”
“What did you do?”
“Fired the supervisor.”
“Good.”
“Three years after it started.”
Gaby said nothing.
“I asked why nobody told me.”
“What did they say?”
“That the supervisor controlled overtime.”
There it was again.
Hours.
Money.
Dependence.
Robert had thought owning a company made him the most powerful person inside it.
Sometimes power sat one layer lower.
With whoever wrote schedules.
Approved overtime.
Recommended raises.
Granted days off.
“No one ever said I told him to treat people that way,” Robert said.
“But you still owned the place.”
“Yes.”
“You feel guilty?”
“Yes.”
“Were you guilty?”
Robert thought.
“Not of doing what he did.”
She waited.
“Maybe of building a company where people thought telling me was more dangerous than enduring him.”
Gaby nodded.
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
“And still important.”
“Yes.”
Denise called forty minutes later.
She had refused to sign.
The document was described as an acknowledgment of confidentiality and data-security obligations.
It included language confirming she had not retained or shared company records.
“That sounds normal,” Robert said.
Gaby looked at him.
“Maybe.”
Sarah later agreed it could be routine in response to suspected document copying.
But Denise had shared photographs months earlier.
She did not want to sign a statement she feared could be inaccurate.
Her attorney advised her.
Caldwell allowed her to leave without signing.
Her shift was canceled.
That was the fact.
Why it was canceled remained disputed.
Caldwell said the meeting had made staffing impractical.
Denise believed it was punishment.
Sarah would not let Gaby state that as fact.
Again.
Frustration protecting accuracy.
That afternoon, Gaby got a call from the grocery store.
Interview tomorrow.
She smiled.
Robert saw it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That is definitely something.”
“I got an interview.”
He stood.
“Great.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t buy me interview clothes.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were.”
“I was thinking.”
“The face.”
He sighed.
“You have clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will do nothing.”
“Thank you.”
“Extremely difficult.”
At the interview, Gaby wore the navy blouse from court and black pants she had recovered from the apartment.
The hiring manager asked about the gap in employment.
Gaby told the truth simply.
“My previous event work ended after a scheduling and payroll dispute. I’m looking for stable hours.”
No dramatic explanation.
No attack.
No shame.
The manager asked about availability.
“Weekdays, weekends, mornings. I need predictable notice because I have an infant.”
Honest.
Risky.
Necessary.
She was offered twenty-eight hours a week starting Monday.
$18.25 an hour.
Not glamorous.
Not enough to solve everything.
Enough to begin.
When she told Robert, he hugged her.
He did it before asking.
Gaby stiffened for one second.
Then hugged him back.
Robert noticed both parts.
That evening, Sarah called.
Caldwell had made another offer.
$35,000.
Gaby stared.
“Why does it keep going up?”
“Because the case is developing.”
“Or because they’re scared.”
“Could be both. Could be negotiation strategy.”
Gaby laughed.
“You never let me enjoy a theory.”
“That’s what you pay me for.”
“I’m not paying you.”
“Then you’re getting excellent value.”
Gaby smiled.
The offer now included a commitment to review timekeeping policies and supervisor training.
Still no admission.
Still confidential.
Still no guaranteed audit of prior employees.
Gaby asked, “Can we require them to repay other people?”
“Not through your individual settlement without additional structure and agreement.”
“What if I don’t settle?”
“We continue.”
“How long?”
“Could be months. Longer.”
“And I might lose.”
“Yes.”
The word mattered.
Not every righteous person wins.
Not every document becomes a verdict.
Not every injustice receives the ending Facebook wants.
Robert watched Gaby absorb that.
“What does Eric want?” she asked.
“He says he wants the records corrected.”
“For him?”
“For everybody.”
“Will he testify?”
Sarah paused.
“He says yes.”
“Then why are you hesitating?”
“Because Caldwell just sent us something about him.”
Gaby’s face tightened.
“What?”
“Personnel records alleging he was disciplined twice for unauthorized access to management files.”
Robert leaned forward.
“Before or after this?”
“One before. One very recent.”
“Does that destroy his credibility?”
“No.”
“Does it hurt?”
“It could.”
Gaby looked at the notebook photographs.
Then Sarah added:
“There’s something else in the file.”
“What?”
“An email Eric wrote six months ago.”
“To who?”
“Martin Caldwell.”
Gaby sat straighter.
“What does it say?”
Sarah read the relevant part.
Eric had written:
We should stop tracking employees’ personal financial situations in scheduling notes. It’s inconsistent and creates unnecessary risk.
Gaby stared.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“And Martin?”
“He replied.”
Gaby’s voice dropped.
“What did he say?”
Sarah answered:
KEEP SCHEDULING DECISIONS WITHIN MANAGEMENT DISCRETION. REMOVE PERSONAL COMMENTS FROM FORMAL FILES.
Robert looked at Gaby.
Formal files.
May you like
Not all files.
The blue notebook suddenly mattered even more.
