“We know that’s not enough for a full ride for any of them,” Trish says quickly before they can argue. “But 25K is a good start. And you can give all of them fantastic recommendation letters for other scholarships.”
No one speaks.
“You’ve given us your opinions,” Dad finally says, his brow creased with frustration or anger—maybe both. “Now please leave. We need to choose the winner.”
Shoulders slumped in defeat, I turn away, anxious to escape. Trish shadows me, and somehow reading each other’s minds, we head for the rooftop to commiserate.
“One thing our dads have in common,” Trish says as we climb the stairs, “they’re both too damn stubborn.”
…
Two hours later, everyone gathers for the scholarship announcement. Employees line the stairs and fill the lobby. Laughter echoes off the brick walls and anticipatory energy bounces through the crowd—for the announcement, but also for the surprise party that will follow on the rooftop. Somehow everyone has managed to keep it a secret from my dad.
The interns stand on one side of Miss Emmaline’s desk. Carlos wore a tie today, as did Jason and Elijah. Ashley, as always, looks lovely. I don’t feel envy anymore when I look at her. I’m impressed at how determined she is, in spite of her mom’s low expectations.
I can tell by their body language and anxious glances the interns are nervous. I desperately want to stand next to Carlos and hold his hand, but I stay where I am, next to Trish, my stomach roiling with worry. Lexi has texted me three times to ask who won, which only made me more anxious, so my phone is on Do Not Disturb.
Carlos’s gaze scans the crowd and locks on me. My heart dances in my chest. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes are full of warmth. I pray that no matter what happens with the scholarship, our new relationship isn’t just a summer fling.
Miss Emmaline stands behind her desk, scrutinizing the crowd over the rim of her eyeglasses. When I catch her attention, she studies me with a long, appraising look, then reaches into the candy bowl, slowly unwraps a Crazy Cowboy, and pops it into her mouth. I guess I’ll never understand her, and she’ll never get me. But that’s okay—she’s devoted to my dad and Emergent, and that’s what matters.
The crowd parts as my dad, Mr. Mantoni, Ms. Simmons, and Cal Stockwell make their way across the lobby. Vader doesn’t even have to ask for everyone to be quiet. At the beginning of summer, I would’ve said his minions were scared of him. Now I know the reason for the silence is respect.
As sad as I am that Dad rejected our idea to split up the scholarship award, I can’t deny how much my view of him and his company has changed.
Trish shoulder-bumps me. “Here we go,” she whispers. I nod, unable to speak. Carlos isn’t looking at me anymore; he’s focused on my dad.
“Thank you all for gathering to celebrate our first summer internship program.” Dad flashes a quick smile. “You all know we experienced some unexpected drama this summer, and our interns suffered for it. Some more than others.” He nods at Jason, who blushes. “All of them deserve a round of applause for sticking it out.”
The crowd claps enthusiastically. Brian blows an air horn, probably from his desk toy collection. I’m trembling with nerves. Why didn’t I argue my case better? Why didn’t I wheedle my dad about the scholarship money on our drives to work this week?
“Deciding on a scholarship winner might be one of the toughest decisions I’ve made at Emergent.” Dad gestures to the other bigwigs. “I think I speak for all of us.” Each of them nods, including Cal Stockwell.
My heart is in my throat. The interns are frozen in place, eyes wide.
Please, Dad. Don’t do this.
Dad nods at Mr. Mantoni, who takes a step forward. He gestures toward the interns, who eye him warily.
“This is a great group of kids,” he says, surprising me, and probably them, too. “I might’ve been too hard on them, but as Mr. K said, they stuck around anyway.” He runs a hand over his gleaming bald head.
Brian and Jiang have moved to the front of the crowd, phones and cameras ready to take pictures for social media and a press release, I assume. For once, I don’t want my camera. The last thing I want is a picture of one happy intern and three crestfallen ones.
“You all know a college education is expensive these days,” says Mr. Mantoni.
A rumble moves through the crowd. I wonder how many of them are still paying back student loans? The profound realization of how fortunate I am hits me square in the chest and to my dismay, tears fill my eyes.
Ms. Romero watches me from across the room, sympathy in her warm brown eyes. I chew the inside of my lip as my attention returns to the interns. I want the best for all of them, but I failed them. Only one person’s life will be changed today.
“The four of us spent a long time debating,” Mr. Mantoni continues. He pauses and all I can hear is the muffled sound of traffic outside, and the thudding of my heart.
“As you know, the intent of the scholarship is to provide one hundred thousand dollars to the winner. Depending on which college they attend, that could be a full ride, or a big chunk of the final tab.” He glances at my dad, who steps forward as Mr. Mantoni steps back.
I wonder if that’s what happens when you work so closely together for so long—reading each other’s invisible signals. Dad and Mom do that at home, too. Maybe someday I’ll be lucky enough to find that closeness with someone.
“Most of you know my story.” Dad’s voice is strong and clear, reaching the employees on the stairs. “I worked my way through college. It was hard, but I don’t regret it.” He faces the interns, who shift nervously. “But when I started this company, I vowed that someday I’d make earning a degree easier for others than it was for me.”
Trish is vibrating next to me. Or maybe it’s me that’s shaking.
“I was hell-bent on making sure one of you got a full ride, at least to a state college.”
Dad’s never looked more intense than he does in this moment.
Jiang is discreetly taking photos with her camera, but my dad doesn’t notice. Brian’s riveted by my dad, not taking any photos. I smile to myself. I see why Jiang got the promotion.
“However.”
The word floats in the air, taunting me. Trish grasps my hand, squeezing it hard. Dad’s penetrating stare searches out Trish and me and stays there.
“I’ve learned a few things over the years.” Dad’s lips twist in an ironic smile. “Such as wisdom sometimes comes from unexpected sources.” For a long moment, he looks only at me. Trish’s grip on my hand tightens.
“So.” Dad tears his gaze from me and strides toward the interns, who look ready to keel over from stress. “We’ve made a change to the award.”
Carlos tugs at his Windsor knot, Jason’s blush returns, Elijah stands up straighter, and Ashley smooths her skirt. Trish and I dare to look at each other, but we don’t speak. I think we’re afraid to jinx whatever’s coming next.
Dad talks directly to the interns, but we can all hear him. “From what we’ve observed, and based on what we’ve learned from those who worked with you closely, we’ve decided that all of you are winners.”
A murmur begins in the crowd, but the Vader side-eye stops it.
“Now, splitting the pot four ways gives you each twenty-five thousand, but it’s not what you signed up for.”
The interns look shell-shocked. I can’t tell if they’re excited or disappointed. Trish is definitely vibrating. So am I.
Dad motions for Cal Stockwell to join him. Cal’s almost seven feet tall; his height combined with his stern countenance are intimidating as he looms over the interns. Jason stares at the floor, and I know he feels guilty about the Twitstorm, even though he didn’t do anything wrong.
“I got my degree by winning a basketball scholarship.” Cal’s booming voice matches his size. “I know one of you sees that as your only option.” He stares at Jason, waiting until he lifts his head. “But it’s not.”
&nbs
p; Jiang’s camera is getting a workout.
“Mr. Kristoff and I have spent the past couple of hours on the phone. A lot of the guys I played with went to school on scholarship, too.” He cracks a small smile, the first one I’ve seen. “And Mr. K knows how to call in a favor.”
My dad’s words echo in my ears: “When you have friends in powerful positions, you don’t ask for random favors. You choose wisely, holding onto the bigtime favor until it’s something important, for someone special.”
“Ms. Simmons, join us,” my dad says. She beams as she hurries to his side. Now the four bigwigs face the four interns. The crowd whispers excitedly, but this time my dad ignores it.
“Due to the generosity of a whole lot of people who want to pay it forward,” Dad announces, his voice booming almost as loud as Cal’s, “we’re able to award each of you eighty-thousand dollars.”
Cheers and applause roar through the room, echoing off the brick walls, along with Brian’s air horn, followed by the pounding beat of Van Halen. Someone just launched my dad’s surprise party playlist.
My whole body goes numb, like I’m having an out-of-body experience, floating up and up, over the excited, chattering crowd below me. The interns hug and laugh and fist pump and mug for the camera. My dad and Cal laugh together, punching each other on the arms like dorks. Ms. Simmons makes each intern pose with her, holding their certificates. Mr. Mantoni watches it all like a benevolent dictator.
A swirl of warmth and happiness floods my body, bringing me back to the ground, to reality. A squeal builds in my throat but I tamp it down—until Trish grabs me and spins me around and around, crashing into the employees standing nearby.
“We did it, princess!”
I’ve never seen her so happy. I release my squeal and join her in a goofy celebration dance to the famous Van Halen “Jump” song. I spin around again, jumping in sync with the lyrics…and crash smack into Carlos, whose arms lock around me, pinning me close.
He smiles down at me with those stupid dimples, then slowly lowers his forehead to mine. “I think you have something to tell me,” he murmurs.
I’m dimly aware of the flash of camera lights, and the other interns joining us for the expanding dance party, but I tune it all out.
“You’re breaking rule number eight.” Our lips are just millimeters apart, but the party is now dancing its way upstairs to the roof, so no one’s paying attention to us.
“The internship’s over, Special K. The only rules I’m following are my own.” He kisses me softly, gently, and I sigh into his mouth.
To my horror, my phone buzzes in my bra. Carlos leans back, bestowing me with the teasing smirk he wore the first day I met him.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn him. “My dress doesn’t have any pockets so—”
“I have sisters, you know. Rose’s bra is always buzzing.” His grin is distracting, so I turn away and reach into my bra.
My phone buzzes again. Where are you, sweetie? We’re all on the roof. Slideshow is about to start!
Mom. I grab Carlos’s hand and drag him toward the stairs and we race each other to the rooftop.
Twenty-Five
The anniversary video plays on a screen under a canopy. I drag Carlos up to the front so I can wave to my mom. From her spot by Ms. Romero, she waves back, glancing at Carlos curiously.
Jiang did an amazing job, weaving together photos and music that effortlessly portray the past fifteen years in reverse. Dad’s eyes look shinier than usual when the final slide lingers on the screen—one of him and Miss Emmaline way back in the day when they shared an office. Mom, Kendra, and three-year-old me are in the background. Miss Emmaline looked crabby back then, too, but Dad is grinning in the photo. He doesn’t have strands of gray hair in that picture, or any crinkle lines around his eyes. It’s easy to picture him as the handsome college guy who won Mom’s heart.
Carlos steps away to join the other interns as the slideshow ends. Mom tackles me with a big hug, wiping a few tears from her eyes as everyone toasts Dad with champagne, and sparkling cider for the interns, under Cal’s watchful eyes.
“This was a fantastic idea,” Mom tells Jiang, who’s joined us. “Thank you for coordinating it.”
Jiang winks at me. “I had a lot of help pulling it all together. Your daughter was a terrific intern this summer.”
“Assistant,” I correct automatically, but Jiang shakes her head.
“You were much more than that.” She grins. “If it weren’t for you and that mannequin attack on Lewis, who knows what would have happened?”
Mom sighs and shakes her head.
“I had a lot of backup.” I glance at Brian and the interns, who are taking selfies together.
“Yes, but now you’re an Emergent legend.”
Mr. Mantoni commandeers the microphone and treats us to a high-pitched feedback whistle. From across the roof, Trish catches my attention and rolls her eyes. I shrug and grin in solidarity.
“Today’s a special day,” the Manicotti begins. The crowd is chattering, but as his voice booms over the portable speakers, they have no choice but to listen. “We’re thrilled with our scholarship awards and now we get to celebrate Emergent’s fifteenth anniversary.” He pauses to take a sip of champagne. “Twelve years ago, I applied for a job at this small start-up company called Emergent. I interviewed with Rhett at a bakery that’s no longer in business, which is surprising, since I’d never seen a guy put away so many pastries at once.”
The crowd laughs as Mom and I share knowing looks.
“I didn’t know what to think about his company. It was young, and so was he.”
More laughter. Who knew the Manicotti was a comedian?
“But I liked his energy and his ideas. And for some reason, he liked me.”
He smiles at Dad, and Dad grins, a big sloppy one like he’s a human Golden Retriever. I wonder how much champagne he’s had.
“I was at the end of my rope,” Mr. Mantoni says, his voice now serious. “My wife had died of cancer and I was raising my young daughter on my own.” He pauses and rubs his hand over his shiny bald head. “I didn’t know what I was doing, as a dad or in any other area of my life, but I knew I needed to get it together, for Trish.”
I glance at Trish, whose eyes are wide as she stares at her dad.
“Anyway.” Mr. Mantoni clears his throat. His audience is completely quiet, respectfully waiting as he composes himself. “I’d had at least twenty interviews before I met Rhett. But no job offers. I was running out of money. Running out of hope.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath. I glance at Mom, whose eyes are shiny with tears. My own eyes are blinking rapidly, too.
“So after he ate one of everything in the bakery, Rhett offered me a job. And I was able to pay my rent. And take care of Trish. And each year I worked here, my life, and my daughter’s, got easier.” He holds my dad’s gaze, and all the pieces fall into place—why he’s so loyal to my dad, and vice versa. Why he was so tough on Trish here at work. Why he almost lost his mind over the Twitstorm. Why Dad will never fire him, no matter how wacky he is.
Mr. Mantoni wipes a hand across his brow. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to kill the buzz. Somebody else come up here and talk before I make things worse.” A few people laugh. He glances at my dad again and touches two fingers to his forehead. “Thanks for everything, Mr. K.” He raises his glass in a toast and my dad does the same. Dad looks suspiciously near tears.
Ms. Simmons takes the mic from the Manicotti and starts her own tribute to my dad. She’s funny, too, but I tune her out because I’m watching Trish and her dad. He bends down, and she whispers in his ear. His frown disappears as he smiles down at her, and I turn away because they’re having a private, special moment.
The party goes on for another two hours, and by the time three o’clock rolls around, Dad tells everyone to go home and take Monday off in celebration of the anniversary, and everyone cheers. Yeah, I think I get why his staff is so loyal. Lewis was an anomaly.
After everyone leaves, Mom and Miss Emmaline sit on couches in the lobby, deep in conversation. So basically Miss E likes everyone in my family but me.
Oh well, can’t win ’em all.
I make my way to Dad’s office to tell him how thrilled I am about the scholarship money. He’s been surrounded by people ever since the announcement and I want one-on-one time with him before he and Mom disappear on another date night. Ms. Romero sweeps me into a hug.
“It’s been quite the experience for you, young lady. I hope you don’t regret a minute of it.”
There are definitely parts I regret, but today was the big payoff—the culmination of a crazy roller coaster of a summer. I couldn’t be happier about the scholarship money. And the rest of it? I wouldn’t change a thing, because it’s true what Dad says—Kristoffs never quit.
“No regrets,” I tell her, and she smiles wide, eyes crinkling. I’ve entered her photo, along with a dozen others, in my Faces of Denver collage contest entry. I don’t even care about winning; I just hope my photos move others to feel what I felt when I took them.
She pats my shoulder as she heads to the door, then stops and turns. “Your dad’s in a meeting, so don’t knock on his door.”
“What? Now?” Why would he be in a meeting after a party, and after sending everyone home early?
Ms. Romero shrugs, an impish smile tugging at her lips. “It shouldn’t last long.” She gestures to a chair. “Why don’t you wait? I know he wants to talk to you.”
I take a seat.
Tonight Carlos and I get to officially be a couple. He told me we’re having a date night, but he disappeared after the flurry of congratulations and goodbyes to the other interns.
Dad’s office door swings open and I glance up, startled to see Carlos and my dad emerge together. Carlos winks at me, then turns to shake my dad’s hand.
“Thanks for everything, Mr. K. I can’t thank you enough.”
My dad nods as he shakes Carlos’s hand, but he looks almost shell-shocked. Carlos tilts his chin as he glides past me. “Meet you at the elevator.”
Spies, Lies, and Allies Page 31