The next day Justine came home and dropped her bag in the corner. She looked at Patrick.
"Were you at school yesterday?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You didn't tell me."
"I didn't know what to say to you." Justine nodded. "Kelly said you were crying when you left Ms. Hall's room." Patrick just nodded. The memory of that conversation was enough to make his eyes sting.
"I know just how you feel." She wrapped her arms around him. "I feel like that every day in that place." Patrick just hugged her.
"What can I do?" he asked finally.
"Nothing, I guess. It's not like you could quit working."
"No, I'm sorry."
"It's OK, Dad. I'm getting used to it."
You shouldn't have to.
***
Patrick watched Justine put her coat on and walk to school the next morning. He wondered at the courage that allowed her to go back every day.
On the drive to work Patrick realized that apart from Wanda, he didn't know anything about any of his co-workers other than their names. He stole glances at the work spaces of the other people on the floor. Some had family pictures up, some had sports stuff. One fellow had pictures from travel brochures plastered all over his walls.
"All the places that I want to take my family to before I retire," he said.
"Where have you been?"
"Nowhere," he said. "Every time I get enough money something breaks." He shrugged. "We go to her parent's cottage. It isn't Disneyland, but the kids like it." He looked back at the wall. "Got to dream though."
"True enough."
Patrick sat down at his computer and put his reports together. He added a summary of the history of the third property and noted that the church had a deed for the land then hit the send button and forgot it. It was Mr. Ball's problem now.
He looked at the next job on the list and dove into the searches.
The email notice pinged and he checked it.
Mr. Carson wants to see you in meeting room 412.
It didn't mention a time, so Patrick put his work on standby and headed to the elevator. He didn't spend any time wondering why Mr. Ball's supervisor wanted to talk to him. It wasn't common, but it happened occasionally. Mr. Carson managed the lawyers who weren't partners. Sometimes it was faster for him to ask the questions than to try to schedule a meeting with an already overbooked lawyer.
Room 412 was bare bones with barely enough space for four people. It had a wall monitor, a desk station, and a white board. The white board still had words and lines scribbled on it from an earlier meeting. The only word that stood out was 'pizza'.
"Patrick," Mr. Carson said, "sit down."
He sat in a chair where he could see Mr. Carson and the screen. The other man walked over and closed the door, then leaned against one of the chairs. He was younger than Mr. Ball, but he wore his suit like he'd been born in it.
"You went to this church, Redeemer, and asked about the deed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
"It seemed like the logical next step. The records weren't completely clear, but if the church had a deed then the situation would be much easier."
"Now they know someone is interested in the property."
"I never mentioned a reason for my visit."
"They will be able to figure it out," Mr. Carson said. "If they starting asking for an exorbitant amount for that parcel it could be trouble."
"Perhaps," Patrick said, "but if a sale was almost completed and they showed up with a deed, it could be more trouble."
"We'll hope so," Mr. Carson waved his hand in dismissal.
Patrick went downstairs to find Mr. Ball waiting at his desk.
"Well, it looks like you still have a job," he said.
Patrick felt a twist in his gut. He hadn't imagined that he could lose his job over something so small.
"You're a good researcher," Mr. Ball said, "but leave the personal contacts to the people paid to do that. As long as the property doesn't suddenly appear on the market you'll be fine. Next time check with me and I'll give you a decision on whether you or someone else should go."
"Thanks, Mr. Ball."
"I'll let you get back to work."
Patrick sat down at his desk and spent a long time looking at Justine's picture before he logged back in and started work.