Page 62 of Statler

Because she was finally off the hot-seat.

She needed to take the win and bow down to her father’s wishes.

Which would be the judicious thing to do.

Having spent time with Statler, she already knew, deep in her gut, that he wasn’t “up to” anything nefarious, so being her father’s little spy wouldn’t hurt a thing.

“I can make that happen,” Eliza assured William with what she hoped was the right amount of subservience. She was already trying to rearrange her daily schedule in her head. “But it might mean I’ll need to work past five-thirty each day to get the balance of my tasks done,” she warned. “I know you’ve made a point of having everyone off premise by that time, but can you make an exception in this case?”

She waited.

“No. Take any work you haven’t finished, home,” he growled, clearly through with the meeting. “After all, you have nothing else to do with your time.”

Eliza so wanted to rebut her father, but he was correct. Other than her reading, she didn’t have a life outside of work anymore, except on Saturdays and Sundays.

“Yes, sir,” she finally said. “Will there be anything else?”

“Nothing,” he barked, and picked up his phone.

Eliza attempted to stem the trembling in her legs as she turned to go, reaching the other side of his office door before she leaned her back on it and gave a huge relieved sigh.

That had actually gone better than she’d thought.

His tirade had been blessedly short.

But what had she expected? To be fired?

That was a joke. Just let him try to find someone to replace her who would put up with his endless bullshit, and at least outwardly turn a blind eye to the many “anomalies” within the books.

Not happening.

Which meant for now, at least, she was a glorified spy.

But Eliza wasn’t worried. Anything she’d be able to report to her father would probably be so innocuous, he’d eventually pull her off his little covert detail after she’d given him his written drivel every morning.

She’d have to make the most of being allowed to see Statler while she could.

* * *

The rest of the day crawled by.

Not because she didn’t have work to do.

Her desk was certainly piled high, as always, despite the endless hours she spent plowing through everything that got thrown at her.

Hah.

She’d actually had the audacity at one point a few months earlier, to request additional office help. Her father, of course, had turned her down flat, citing privacy issues with the figures that passed through her hands.

Whatever.

Materials were materials, expenses were expenses, and profits were profits, at least on the surface. She’d never thought much, before the last few years, about what the numbers were saying. She’d always been more concerned with keeping things balanced.

But since Holden’s change in personality, followed by his death…

Eliza wasn’t dumb. She’d begun opening her eyes, seeing things that didn’t add up, yet she never questioned it. Instead, she was documenting everything on hidden thumb drives while constantly trying to tell herself that whatever special component her father was developing behind those closed doors downstairs, might legally be accounting for the anomalies in their revenue stream.

After last night, however, seeing all the cars in the lot, and being confronted by one of her father’s strong-arms?