“And I want it handled quickly and cleanly, without a fight, because a fight will require me to explain to the licensing board exactly how your residency placement came to be.”
Nathan stared at me.
“You’ve thought about this,” he said.
“I’ve had several hours.”
“Cassandra’s father—” He stopped himself.
“Cassandra’s father what?”
He shook his head slowly.
“He’s not someone you want to make an enemy of.”
“Is that a warning?”
“It’s a fact.”
“So is this.” I placed my hand flat on the envelope.
“I have documentation, a recording, and a witness who is willing to speak on my behalf.
What do you have?”
The room was quiet.
Outside, a car passed on the street below.
The small plant on the windowsill caught the last of the evening light.
Nathan reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.
It was a gesture I had seen a thousand times.
