Chapter 6: Derek
He showed up four days later.
Caleb was in his home office when the front desk called up.
The desk attendant, a young woman named Priya who had worked the morning shift for two years, sounded careful in the way people sound when they are choosing their words around someone who is standing right in front of them.
"There's a gentleman here asking for Olivia Marsh.
He says he's the father of her children.
He'd like to come up."
Caleb said, "Tell him to wait," and went to find Olivia.
She was in the living room, folding laundry with the efficiency of someone who had learned to complete tasks in whatever small windows of time the babies allowed.
When he told her, she set down the shirt in her hands and sat very still for a moment.
"Did he say what he wants?"
"No."
"He wants money," she said.
"That's always what he wants." She stood up.
"I'll go down."
"You don't have to go down.
I can tell them to send him away."
"And he'll come back.
And he'll keep coming back until I talk to him." She picked up the shirt again, folded it, set it on the pile.
"I know how Derek works."
Caleb went down with her.
He didn't ask if she wanted him to.
He simply got in the elevator.
Derek was waiting in the lobby near the front desk.
He was younger than Caleb had expected — mid-thirties, with the particular look of a man who had once been handsome and knew it and was now watching that fact slowly become past tense.
He was wearing a jacket that was too light for the weather and he had his hands in his pockets.
When he saw Olivia he smiled.
When he saw Caleb behind her, the smile adjusted.
"Liv." He spread his hands.
"You look good."
"Derek." Her voice was flat.
"What do you want?"
"Can we talk privately?"
"No."
The smile again.
He glanced at Caleb.
"Who's this?"
"My employer," Olivia said.
"Talk, Derek.
I don't have long."
Derek looked between them.
Something moved behind his eyes — a calculation, quick and practiced.
"I've been thinking about the kids.
I want to be involved.
I think I have a right to—"
"You left," Olivia said.
"Eight months ago.
You packed a bag while I was still in the hospital and you left."
"I was scared.
I made a mistake.
I want to make it right."
"What does making it right look like to you?"
He hesitated.
Just a fraction of a second.
But it was there.
"I thought maybe we could work something out.
Financially.
A proper arrangement.
So I can be part of their lives." He paused.
"I'd need some help getting back on my feet first.
Just to get started."
There it was.
"You want money," Olivia said.
"I want to support my children.
I just need—"
"You want me to give you money so that you can then give some of it back to your children as support." She picked up her voice the way you pick up something you've dropped and are done being careful with.
"No, Derek."
His face changed.
The charm went somewhere else and something harder came up behind it.
"I have legal rights, Olivia.
I'm their father.
I could make things very complicated for you."
"On what grounds?" Caleb said.
Derek turned to him.
"I'm sorry?"
"On what grounds would you make things complicated?
You left voluntarily eight months ago.
You've made no contact, provided no support, and made no legal filing of any kind." Caleb kept his voice pleasant.
"I'm asking because I'm curious what grounds you think you have."
Derek stared at him.
"Who exactly are you?"
"I told you.
Her employer." Caleb smiled.
"I also have a very good lawyer.
Would you like his number?"
The lobby was quiet.
Priya behind the desk was looking at her monitor with great concentration.
Derek looked at Olivia one more time.
The calculation was still running behind his eyes, but it was coming up empty.
"This isn't finished," he said.
"It is for today," Caleb said.
"Have a good morning."
Derek left.
The revolving door turned behind him and then was still.
Olivia stood looking at the space where he had been.
Her hands were clasped in front of her, very tight.
"He'll come back," she said.
"I know.
We'll be ready."
She turned and looked at him.
"Why are you doing this?"
It was a real question.
Not suspicious — just real.
She genuinely wanted to know.
Caleb thought about it honestly.
"Because my father made a promise to your father thirty years ago and didn't keep it.
And because you've been carrying things that were partly my weight to carry, and you never once asked me to notice." He paused.
"And because you were right, in the kitchen the other morning.
I benefited from not seeing.
I'd like to stop doing that."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she pressed her lips together and nodded once, and walked to the elevator.
He followed.
Neither of them spoke on the way up.
But when the doors opened and she stepped out, she turned back briefly.
"Thank you," she said.
"Caleb."
He nodded.
The doors closed.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
A text from a number he didn't recognize.
*You should know who you're protecting.
May you like
Ask her about the Aldridge account.
Ask her what she took.*
