9Before I reached the number three, Tom picked up.
Instead of hello, he said, “Sorry.”
His voice was gruff.
I heard the plunk of water against stainless steel. The noise stopped abruptly.
Maybe when Tom’s phone rang, he’d been rinsing his lunch plate in the sink?
A bachelor, Tom lives alone. I imagined him staring out the kitchen window. Studying the terrain behind his Vista, California, bungalow.
One huge hand cradling his cell. The other swiping across the salt-and-pepper bristles on his head.
That swipe was the only sign of agitation he ever showed.
“I should’ve gotten in touch sooner,” he continued. “Given you more warning.”
“You couldn’t have known it would happen this fast. Ramsey used my failure to appear at the anniversary party as an excuse to terminate me immediately.”
