Mockingbird by Sean Stewart Page B

position, so you won’t be required to train a replacement. I should make it clear that this move reflects the direction of the company, and is not intended as a slight against your professional qualifications.” He reached into the breast pocket of his suit. “I have already written a letter of reference.” He handed it to me. “You can review it this afternoon and tell me if there are points you would like to have clarified.”
    â€œYou can’t do this.”
    Bill regarded me across the table.
    â€œYou can’t do this. This is wrongful dismissal.”
    â€œYou are not being dismissed, Ms. Beauchamp. The position you currently hold has been eliminated.”
    â€œI’ll sue.”
    â€œYou are certainly welcome to speak to legal counsel, if you think it appropriate,” Bill said. “I think you will find Friesen Investments is acting well within its legal rights.”
    â€œLegal rights. Legal rights! What about moral rights, Bill? Your family owes us every goddam dime,” I said hotly. “If it wasn’t for my mother—”
    â€œI agree,” Bill said. He looked out the window. “But you aren’t your mother, are you? Ms. Beauchamp, the . . . special relationship between your mother and my father has been very productive. But your mother was an exceptional woman. To be perfectly frank, I very rarely need an actuary. And when I do, I can always hire a far more experienced one as a consultant.” He met my eyes again.
    â€œYou had this scripted out, didn’t you? You read it in one of your magazines: ‘How to Lay Off an Employee: Make eye contact. Be unemotional. Don’t be drawn into arguments.’” I looked down at my beautiful silk shantung jacket and felt outraged that he should ruin the first occasion on which I’d worn it. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer this afternoon.”
    â€œI think you will find you have no case, Ms. Beauchamp. Don’t waste your money.”
    â€œOh, I’m not filing for wrongful dismissal,” I said. “I’ll be naming you in a sexual harassment suit.”
    â€œWhat! I’ve never—”
    â€œYou invited me out to lunch. I couldn’t very well say no, could I? Not to the boss. We came here, sat down, and then you made it clear that if I wanted to keep my job, I would have to sleep with you. When I turned you down, you came up with this ‘downsizing’ scam.”
    Bill’s doughy face got blotchy and congested. “That’s ridiculous. No one would ever believe I’d force myself on you. Why not Maria, or that pretty secretary down the hall?”
    I smacked my forehead with my hand. “Gosh, Bill, you sure know how to flatter a girl. I don’t know, maybe you have a thing for bowlegged chicks.”
    He started to flush. “Toni, I didn’t mean—”
    â€œIt’s too late to be a Southern gentleman now.”
    â€œI can’t believe you’d . . . You’ll never win that suit, you know.”
    â€œProbably not. I’ll make sure to get it in the papers, though. Often, and I’ll be especially sure to tell your mother, Bill. Gosh, how upset will she be to think that her son—” He slammed his hands on the table. “My momma used to call me the hatefulest child there ever was,” I said. “You oughtn’t to mess with me, Bill.”
    â€œGo ahead,” he said, white with anger. “Try telling my mother. While you’re at it, you can tell her how your mother was screwing my dad nearly up to the day she died.”
    The instant he said it, I knew it was true. Oh, Daddy. “What did you say?”
    â€œYou heard me.”
    Momma, you lying, lying bitch.
    â€œHe told me the night of the funeral,” Bill said. “He had a few too many bourbons in him. Wanted to stay up talking after we got home. Mother went to bed. ‘Just between us,’ he said.