The Real Inheritance
She hung up without saying goodbye.
Twenty minutes later, Harold stormed past my cubicle on his way to his office. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t acknowledge that I existed.
He just slammed his door hard enough to rattle the windows. Through the wall, I heard him on the phone.
“Ridiculous waste of time. Margaret’s probably confused. We’ll address her concerns and move on. No, I’m not worried,” he said.
A pause. “Cecily? My God, Josephine. She can barely read a spreadsheet. She’s not a threat to anyone,” he scoffed.
I smiled to myself. For the first time in twenty-eight years, being underestimated felt like an enormous advantage.