Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Remembered EverythingMaisie Quinn had worked at Sterling House Motors for nineteen months.
She loved cars.
That was why she had applied.
At sixteen, she could identify most sports cars from the sound of their engines. At twenty, she spent weekends photographing vintage vehicles at local shows. By twenty-six, she had become a sales associate at one of Connecticut's most prestigious dealerships.
She had imagined herself helping people find extraordinary machines.
She had not imagined laughing at a man because his shoes were worn.
Yet that was what she'd done.
After Ethan left, Derek returned to his office.
Miranda followed him.
Lauren remained behind the counter, examining the customer contact sheet Ethan had requested before leaving.
Maisie stood beside her.
“That was insane,” Maisie whispered.
Lauren didn't look up.
“Which part?”
“The black card.”
Lauren closed the folder.
“The part where Derek destroyed somebody's property?”
Maisie looked uncomfortable.
“He said it was fake.”
“Did he verify that?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
Maisie shook her head.
Lauren turned toward her.
“Then why are you repeating it?”
Maisie looked down.
She had laughed because Derek laughed.
Because Miranda laughed.
Because she wanted to belong.
It had seemed harmless for one stupid second.
Now she remembered Ethan's face.
The way he had absorbed the insults without defending himself.
The way he had spoken quietly when Derek threatened him.
And the way he thanked Lauren for an envelope.
“He didn't act like a scammer,” Maisie said.
Lauren stared toward the entrance.
“No.”
“Then why did Derek get so angry?”
Lauren hesitated.
“That's a question I've been asking myself.”
Before Maisie could respond, Miranda emerged from the office.
Her expression was tight.
“Derek wants the customer incident marked as attempted fraud.”
Lauren looked up.
“On what basis?”
“The card.”
“The card wasn't processed.”
“Obviously.”
“Then we have no evidence it was counterfeit.”
Miranda's eyes narrowed.
“Lauren, don't start.”
Lauren kept her voice professional.
“I won't enter an unsupported fraud finding into the customer record.”
Miranda stared at her.
“You work here.”
“Yes.”
“Then act like it.”
Lauren looked back at the screen.
“I am.”
Miranda left.
Maisie watched her disappear.
“Are you going to get in trouble?”
Lauren gave a tired smile.
“Probably.”
That evening, Maisie returned to the apartment she shared with her younger sister, Phoebe.
Phoebe was twenty-two and studying nursing.
Their rent had increased.
Maisie's commissions had declined.
She couldn't afford to lose her job.
Phoebe found her sitting at the kitchen table, staring at her phone.
“Bad day?”
Maisie nodded.
“What happened?”
Maisie told her.
The worn coat.
The insults.
The black card.
The crack.
Phoebe listened.
When Maisie finished, her sister looked disappointed.
“You laughed?”
Maisie lowered her eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Phoebe waited.
Maisie sighed.
“Because everyone else did. Because Derek's the boss. Because Miranda acts like she owns the place.”
Phoebe crossed her arms.
“Would you have laughed if the guy walked in wearing a ten-thousand-dollar suit?”
Maisie didn't answer.
Phoebe sat across from her.
“You know what Dad used to say?”
Maisie smiled sadly.
Their father had worked as a school custodian for twenty-seven years.
He died when Phoebe was nineteen.
“What?”
“People who think uniforms make them important usually don't respect the people cleaning them.”
Maisie laughed once.
Then her eyes filled.
She remembered the way some parents at her school had ignored her father.
How teachers occasionally spoke about him as though he weren't in the room.
She had hated it.
And now she had done something similar to a stranger.
“I should've stopped it,” she whispered.
Phoebe took her hand.
“Then don't pretend it didn't happen.”
The next morning, Maisie arrived early.
Lauren was already at the counter.
“Can I ask you something?” Maisie said.
Lauren looked up.
“Sure.”
“Is the showroom footage saved?”
Lauren became still.
“Why?”
“Because of yesterday.”
Lauren studied her.
“Don't touch any recordings. If there's a dispute, the original files need to be preserved properly.”
Maisie nodded.
Then she asked, “Do you think Ethan's card was real?”
Lauren hesitated.
“I don't know. But whether it was real doesn't change what Derek did.”
Maisie looked toward the red Ferrari.
“Why did he get so strange when Ethan asked for the service records?”
Lauren didn't answer immediately.
Then she lowered her voice.
“Because that car has been causing problems long before Ethan walked in.”
Maisie stared.
“What kind of problems?”
Lauren looked toward Derek's closed office door.
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“There's a reason we've been told to stop asking questions about it.”
And for the first time, Maisie realized that the man everyone had laughed at might have walked into something far more dangerous than an unpleasant sales encounter.
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