“So do I.”
Michael drove me to the Meridian Grand Hotel in downtown Indianapolis. When we reached the entrance, he turned off the engine.
“Are you nervous?”
“I’ve been nervous for three weeks.”
He squeezed my hand.
“No matter what happens in there, I’m proud of you.”
The ballroom contained two hundred people seated at round tables covered in white linen. Coffee steamed beside tiny cheesecakes. Bankers, accountants, lenders, and local business owners filled the room.
Many had trusted me with payroll records for years.
Richard stood near the stage, shaking hands.
When he saw me, his face brightened.
He kissed my cheek for the photographers.
“I knew you’d come,” he whispered.
“I said I would.”
“I told everyone you’ve had a difficult few weeks. Let’s keep today positive.”
Then he leaned closer without changing his pleasant expression.
“Smile.”
“Why?”
“So everyone knows you overreacted.”
