Seventeen Minutes on Route 18 Wrecked an Eighteen-Million-Dollar Corporate Buyout
“Good.” Eleanor stepped back.
She looked at my hands again, one and then the other, and then at my face, and the three seconds went by.
“Now,” she said.
“Tell me exactly why he fired you.”
Gavin started to speak, and she raised one finger without turning around.
“Not the paperwork, Christopher.
The morning.”
Gavin answered before I could.