The Contract (The Contract 1)

“Hey. Look at me.”

She lifted her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her eyes wide, and her hands clutched the cushions of the sofa so hard her knuckles were white.

“Why are you this upset?”

“You expect me to remain calm after hearing how neglected you were your entire life?”

I shrugged. “It’s the past, Katharine. I told you it wasn’t pretty. Still, it doesn’t concern the here and now.”

“I disagree. I think it does, Richard.”

I shook my head. “Nothing will change because I told you my story.”

“Perhaps not for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, I’m not surprised.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It explains a lot to me. Why you are the way you are when you interact with people. Why you don’t get close to anyone in your life. And why you don’t let people in.”

I glared. “Don’t start to analyze me.”

“I’m not. I’m stating what I think, that’s all.”

“I don’t want your tears, or your sympathy.”

“That’s too bad, Richard—because you have them both. Your parents were horrible people, and you—no child—deserves to be mistreated or ignored.” She smiled sadly. “But you choose the way to live your life now. You think you’ve let go of the past, but you haven’t. The way you see the world, the way you treat people is colored by how you were treated.” She stood, brushing her cheeks. “If you let yourself try, I think you’d discover people aren’t always as horrid as you think we are. Some of us are actually worthy.”

Her words stopped me cold. “I don’t think you’re horrid, Katharine—quite the opposite, in fact. I’m the despicable person.”

“No, Richard. You aren’t despicable. I think you’re lost. You haven’t let yourself feel. Once you do, once you allow yourself to connect to someone, I think you’ll find this world is a much better place. Love doesn’t make you weak. Real, honest love—it makes you strong.”

With those words, she bent down and brushed a kiss on my cheek. I felt the evidence of her sadness on my skin, the wetness of her tears lingering.

“Thank you for telling me. And, for the record, I don’t think you’re anything like your father. You only think so because you don’t know any other way. I think, if you try, you could be a great man.”

She turned and left the room, leaving me with much to think about.RICHARD

I WAS UNSURE WHAT TO do with myself after the conversation with Katharine. Her words kept echoing in my head, making me question the truths I held onto for all these years. I felt drained, and I needed to stop the barrage of thoughts, so I changed, hitting my gym. I pushed myself hard, showered, then headed straight to my den. I expected Katharine to approach me wanting to continue the conversation, which I hoped to avoid, but she was busy in the kitchen, not bothering to look my way as I went past.

Waiting on my desk was a plate of sandwiches and a thermos of coffee. I stared at the offering for a moment, then with a shrug, dug in as I lost myself in the files I had brought home. It wasn’t until early evening I saw her again.

“Dinner is ready, if you’re hungry.”

I looked up, squinting.

“Richard, you need some light.” She crossed over, snapping on my desk lamp. She shook her head. “And maybe a pair of reading glasses. I’ve been noticing how close you hold things to your face to read.”

I looked down, realizing she was right.

“I’ll make an appointment for you,” she offered, a grin tugging on her lips. “I doubt that falls under your assistant’s job listing, either.”

I had to chuckle, even as I rolled my eyes. When I met with Amy on Friday, listing out my expectations, she had surprised me with her own list. PAs at The Gavin Group were a vastly different species than at Anderson Inc. She was there to provide back up, keep me organized, and even, on occasion, fetch me lunch, but she was not there to make me coffee, toast a bagel, or pick up my dry cleaning. To say I was put in my place would be an understatement. She was kind enough to show me the large employee lounge, how to use the coffee machine, and where I could find the bagels and other assorted foods Graham kept on hand for his staff.

Katharine had to leave the room to hide her laughter when I told her the story.

“It’s not funny!” I yelled after her.

“Oh, but it is.” Her dry reply drifted down the hall.

I had to admit, she was right. In retrospect, it didn’t kill me to get up and grab a coffee. It was a good way to stretch my legs. I had a sense Amy would be skimpy with the cream cheese on my bagel, anyway. Katharine always piled it on the way I liked it.