Seventeen Minutes on Route 18 Wrecked an Eighteen-Million-Dollar Corporate Buyout
With the other, she pressed her palm briefly against her chest, the same steadying motion I had watched her make on the gravel at seven-fifty that morning.
“Christopher.”
“Yes.”
“You had a pitch.
You had a bonus coming.
You said so on the shoulder, twice, and once more while the paramedics were loading me.”
“I did.”
“And you stayed.”