Page 25 of Don't Tell

I nod. “I understand. I’ll have it tomorrow morning."

She looks up at me, wringing her fingers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She gives me a grateful smile and turns around. I close the door quietly, then click the lock. My eyes find the notebook. So much for art school. The numbers are about to get much smaller.

I take some cash from my savings, add to spending, and close the notebook.

There comes a point in your life when you start to wonder if your dreams are possible. I think I’m at that point.

Don’t say that, Suzy. You can still make it,I hear a voice say. It sounds like Marguerite, although I can’t be sure. I haven’t heard her voice in so long.

“Hey, Suzanne!” Maeve yells from the other side of my door. “There’s someone at the door for you.”

I stiffen. My first thought is my mother. She’s been here once, when I was foolish enough to let her know where I live. Maybe she’s come here to search for the jewelry and china herself.

“Thank you!” I yell back. I square my shoulders, adjust my sweatshirt, and go out to find out who exactly it is.

It’s not my mother. It’s a man I don’t recognize. He’s tall and lanky, with cropped dark hair and a neatly shaped beard. He’swearing a suit and holding a small, brown envelope in one hand and a phone in the other.

I frown.Did my mother die?

"Suzanne Jenkins?"

"Yes?" I tilt my head back, just in case he tries to attack me on the request of my maybe dead mother.

"Good morning. I'm with the office of Marisol Vega. I'm here on behalf of Mr. Cade Nightingale. May I have one minute of your time?"

I furrow my eyebrows and bite the inside of my cheeks. So my mother is very much alive, but someone else is about to not be a part of the living.

I open the door. He opens the envelope and removes a check. He hands it across the threshold. I take it, just because I’m curious to see how much Cade Nightingale thinks I’m worth.

$15,000. Oh my god.

That’s a year of not asking Maeve to wait for my rent, two semesters at Santa Rosa, with money left over for materials. But it’s been offered by Cade Nightingale. And that in itself is the biggest problem of all.

I look at the man and hold the check out to him. "Take it back."

"Ms. Jenkins, the check has been issued in your name. It is a token of appreciation for your discretion. There is no further obligation."

"I said take it back."

"You don't have to cash it. If you don't cash it within ninety days, the funds will be returned to the issuing account. I'm simply delivering the — "

I tear it in half.

The paper rips clean. I hand the pieces back to him through the door. His hand opens up as if on instinct, and I dump the torn pieces in his palms.

"Tell Mr. Nightingale that if he wants to insult me, he can come do it himself."

I close the door and lock it. Then I sit down on the floor, and I laugh.

I’m back at the second stage — anger. That is what I feel as I sign in at the front desk. Carmen is already there. She looks up when I walk in. I know she’s been eager to see me. We haven’t had the chance to talk since Cade made a scene in front of everyone. It makes me wish I was late.

“Hey!” She waves me over even though we’re 3 ft. away. “How’s our Cinderella doing?”

I shoot her a glare. Frank comes around the corner with a clipboard and a phone tucked under his ear. “Good morning, Suzanne. Carmen.” He nods at both of us and continues on his way.