Equinox
Rebecca“Rebecca,” Samson Quartey says.
Rebecca looks up from her desk to see her father standing in the doorway to her office, his hands behind his back as if he’s about to step in for a formal conversation with a subordinate. He’s always formal in the office, always distant and cool and relentless, stinting with praise and liberal with correction, and so she braces herself as she nods for him to come in.
“Daddy,” she says.
“Shahil says you’re leaving early,” Samson says, coming over to stand by the window. He never sits in her office—whether that’s to keep the advantage of height or simply because he doesn’t want the appearance of family coziness—and therefore favoritism—she doesn’t know.
Both options depress her slightly.
“Shahil is right,” Rebecca confirms, sliding her g
