Chapter 6 - The Paperwork of Reckoning
Marissa froze.
Landlords didn't knock like that. Bill collectors were usually louder, more aggressive, jiggling the brass doorknob. This was three measured, deliberate raps.
“Are you expecting someone?” Clara whispered.
Marissa shook her head, wiping her cheeks with the hem of her sleeve. She stood up, stepped into the short hallway, and peered through the brass peephole.
Standing in the dim, poorly lit hallway was the man from Table Twelve.
He was alone. His hands were clasped in front of his long wool coat. He wasn’t looking around with disgust at the peeling wallpaper or the scent of boiled cabbage that perpetually haunted the apartment stairwell; he simply stood there with calm, patient stillness.
Marissa cracked the door, keeping the safety chain secured. “Can I help you?”
Ethan met her gaze through the two-inch opening. “Marissa Evans?”
“Yes. Who are you? Were you... were you at the diner today?”
“My name is Ethan Calloway,” he said. His voice was warm, carrying none of the razor-sharp chill he had used against Richard Vance an hour earlier. “I was sitting at Table Twelve. You served me coffee and told me it was hot.”
Marissa’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Sir, if you left your sunglasses or a briefcase, I don’t work there anymore. I can’t help you get back inside.”
“I didn't leave anything,” Ethan said. “I came to deliver something. May I come in for five minutes? I brought Dr. Alan Sterling with me. He’s waiting in the car downstairs, but I thought it best to speak with you first.”
“Dr. Sterling?” Marissa unlatched the chain, driven by a mixture of shock and wariness. She opened the door wide. “Who is Dr. Sterling?”
“He is the chief of cardiology at Northwestern Memorial,” Ethan said, stepping into the small entryway and immediately removing his gloves. “And if your mother will permit him, he would like to review her medical charts and replace her pharmaceutical regimen this evening.”
Marissa backed up until her shoulders hit the wall. “What is this? Is this a joke? Did Richard send you to mock me?”
“Richard Vance has been removed from Harper’s Table by building security and Cook County deputies,” Ethan said simply. “He is currently sitting in an interview room explaining why five years of payroll tax deductions never reached the state treasury.”
Clara appeared in the hallway, leaning heavily on the wooden doorframe, her eyes wide as she looked at the tall stranger. “Who did you say you were, young man?”
May you like
Ethan dipped his head in genuine deference. “Ethan Calloway, ma'am. And I have spent my entire adult life watching people make excuses for selfishness. Today, your daughter reminded me what courage looks like.”
***
