Madison clutched her tiny purse with both hands. “Please don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You called him.”
“I called my boss to explain why I canceled a business dinner.”
Her face tightened. “You should have told us he was your boss.”
I stared at her.
That was the first time I understood it clearly: Madison was not ashamed because they had used me. She was ashamed because someone important had found out.
“I did tell you,” I said. “For years. You all laughed.”
Madison looked away.
Memories flashed through my mind in sharp fragments.
My father at Thanksgiving telling my uncle, “Emily answers emails from home. It’s not exactly corporate America.”
