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I frown at her. “Why do you need to work at the bar? Don’t we pay you enough?”
Her smile wobbles at the same time as her shoddy ankle that desperately needs surgical attention. “Of course.”
“Don’t lie to me, Martha. I thought we had a connection.” I even let her go home early last week, for fuck’s sake.
“Sir, our connection is weaker than the dial-up internet at the local library.”
Jesus. Dial-up internet still exists? That’s almost as sad as the beat-up sneakers she swaps with her work flats.
I’m disgusted by her big toe peeking out from the hole at the front of her tennis shoe. “Why do you have a second job?”
She bites down on her frail lip.
“Don’t make me repeat my question.”
“Because my husband has a heart condition and his medications cost more than a monthly mortgage.” Martha’s lips clamp together again.
“Why doesn’t your health insurance cover it?”
The glare she sends my way chills me to the bone. She’s never been anything but respectful and meek in my presence, but the fire in her eyes could flay the skin off a weaker man. “With the company health insurance policy, the copayments are severely out of budget.”
“And you find that your paycheck isn’t sufficient.”
She nods. “Some months are tougher than others. With the holidays coming up and all…” Her voice trails off.
I picture Zahra’s little icepick smacking into my cold heart with the strength of a jackhammer. With my hand, I rub at the burning spot in my chest. “Follow me.”
I walk back to my office with Martha dragging her feet behind me because of her usual limp. “Have a seat.” I stroll around my desk and drop into my chair.
She takes a seat across from me. Her eyes move back and forth from me to the grandfather clock at the corner of the room. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t be late to my job. Every hour counts for someone like me because I don’t make as much as the other young ones.”
I’m pretty sure that comment aged her another ten years.
The loud breath I release has Martha wincing. “Give me a moment of your time. How long has your husband had this heart condition?”
“He was diagnosed at forty-five after our grandchild passed away suddenly.”
Jesus fucking Christ. A grandchild?
She prattles on. “The stress did him in. Instead of attending our grandbaby’s funeral, he was recovering in the hospital. He’s never gotten over that still to this day.” Her eyes water but no tears fall.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Something about Martha working late into the night on a shitty ankle because I don’t pay her enough doesn’t sit right with me. It’s my fault she can’t afford these things.
Doesn’t feel too good to trim the bottom line now, huh?
My skin becomes flush beneath my suit, with my body temperature spiking. At the moment, I can only think of a temporary solution.
I type out an email to the head of Dreamland finances requesting a bonus.
“What are you doing?” Her voice comes out in a whisper.
I flip the monitor so she can read the email. “Consider this your Christmas bonus.”
“But it’s October.” She puts on her reading glasses and gasps. Her eyes roll into the back of her head as she passes out.
Fuck. This is why I don’t do nice things.
* * *
