PART 2: The Price of a Broken Star
Marisol slipped the phone away and struggled to her feet.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for the figurine. You can take it out of my paycheck.”
Russell studied the fragments scattered across the marble floor.
“Do you know what it costs?”
Marisol slowly shook her head.
“No, sir.”
“Nine hundred and fifty dollars.”
She felt the floor give way beneath her.
It was almost as much as she owed in rent.
“Please don’t fire me. I need this job.”
Russell was about to respond when Rosie began to cry.
Marisol tried to calm her, but her own hands trembled so badly she could hardly adjust the carrier.
“Sit down,” he said.
“I still have work to do.”
“I’m not talking about work. I’m asking if you’re okay.”
Marisol lowered her gaze.
Russell noticed the little sandwich poking out of her purse.
“Have you had dinner?”
“I’m not hungry.”
But her stomach betrayed her with a perfectly audible growl.
She blushed.
Russell opened the refrigerator in his office.
Inside were two meals prepared by the company’s catering service.
He set them on the table.
“I haven’t eaten either. Will you join me?”
Marisol hesitated, but in the end she accepted.
As she ate, Russell learned that she held an associate degree in accounting from a community college in Chicago.
Before Rosie was born, she had worked as an administrative assistant at a small bookkeeping firm.
After the pregnancy, her temporary contract wasn’t renewed.
Her boyfriend had walked out shortly before the birth.
With no savings and no family to lean on, she took the first job she could find.
“Why haven’t you applied for something else?” Russell asked.
Marisol smiled sadly.
“Because when I say I have a baby and I’m raising her alone, the interview tends to end pretty quickly.”
Russell said nothing.
Then she added something that hurt him more than he’d expected.
“I don’t want anyone to hand me anything. I just need a job that lets me take care of my daughter without having to choose between the two.”
Just then, the door swung open.
It was Pamela Sterling, the chief operating officer, who had returned for her laptop.
When she saw Marisol with the baby, her expression hardened.
“What is this? You brought a child into the building without authorization?”
Marisol stood up at once.
“It was an emergency. It won’t happen again.”
Pamela eyed the broken glass.
“And you’ve destroyed company property. That’s a serious violation.”
“Pamela, not now,” Russell said.
But she was already taking out her phone.
“Tomorrow I’ll call the cleaning contractor. This woman can’t stay here.”
Marisol pressed Rosie against her chest.
“Please…”
Pamela replied coldly:
“Her personal problems are not this company’s responsibility.”
Russell turned slowly to face her.
“Are you sure about that?”
Pamela frowned.
Then Russell asked a question she didn’t see coming.
“How much do we pay the contractor every month for Marisol’s position?”
“Excuse me?”
“I want to know how much this woman takes home and how much we’re paying.”
Pamela went silent.
Russell sensed there was more here that he needed to dig into.
And before leaving the office, he made a decision that would put his own company’s practices on trial.
On Christmas morning, Marisol woke before seven.
Rosie was still asleep in her crib beside a window that let in the winter cold.
The apartment was barely four hundred square feet.
The heat worked unevenly, and the kitchen was so cramped that Marisol had to push a chair aside to open the refrigerator all the way.
On the table lay the pink socks she’d bought for her daughter.
They had cost $4.95.
It was the only gift she had been able to afford.
She placed them next to the crib and stroked Rosie’s forehead.
“Merry Christmas, princess.”
She tried to smile.
But she remembered everything about the night before.
She was certain Pamela would make good on her threat.
While she was making coffee, her phone rang from an unknown number.
“Marisol Vega?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“I’m calling from the human resources department at Kane Group. We need to talk with you about your employment situation.”
Marisol closed her eyes.
This was it.
They were going to fire her on Christmas Day.
“I understand,” she said in a flat voice. “Do I need to return the uniform?”
“No, Marisol. We’d like to offer you a meeting on December 26. Mr. Kane will be there.”
The young woman was bewildered.
“What for?”
“We’d prefer to explain in person.”
The call ended.
Marisol looked at Rosie, feeling fear and confusion in equal measure.
