Monday morning, Sheldon called me into his office.
He was sitting behind his desk with his reading glasses atop his head. There was no sunflower seed mug in sight. He looked uncomfortable, like a man who’d been caught doing something embarrassing and knew it. ShopChairs
“Sit down, Brent,” he said.
“How was prom?” he asked. “We never really got to talk when you brought Georgia back. I was…” He cleared his throat. “Resting my eyes.”
“Educational,” I said.
“Georgia told you,” he said. “Didn’t she?”
“Yep. Everything.”
“I should’ve known she couldn’t keep a secret,” he said into his palms. “She’s never been able to keep a secret. When she was seven, she told her mother what we got her for Christmas. Before Thanksgiving.”
I sat across from him and waited until he took his hands off his face.
“Sir,” I said, “why didn’t you just ask me whether I wanted to apply for the position?”
