I returned to the Bell House on Monday to collect my things.
Dad waited in the office with a folder on the desk. My name was written on the tab. He kept his hands on the folder while I stood across from him.
"I'm placing you on unpaid leave," he said.
"Is this about the fight?"
"It's about your judgment."
"Grace slapped me first."
"And you broke her nose."
"I said I'm responsible for that."
"Then you should understand why you can't be working here right now."
"Is Grace on leave?"
His expression hardened. "This isn't a negotiation."
"I'm asking whether she's still working."
"Grace is the general manager."
I nodded. There it was, the answer underneath all the careful language.
"Do you have a written policy for staff fights?" I asked.
"You're not regular staff. You're family."
