I Like You a Latte {Completed}

17 | Witnessing the Panic

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Knott," Beverly said as she clambered out of the man's luxury SUV. "And thanks for the tour—your company is amazing."

Mr. Knott smiled at her through the open passenger-side window. "Of course, Beverly, it's no problem at all. I do hope, however, that this causes my company to be high on your list of employer choices."

She couldn't tell him that Griffin hated him, so she just smiled and replied, "It's definitely above McDonald's." He chuckled good-naturedly, and she waved before beginning the trek up to her dorm. If Deb wasn't there, she would have some peace and quiet to study—

"Beverly." She stopped and spun around to find Mr. Knott leaning over the passenger seat, his features twisted in emotional conflict; her stomach dropped. "I realize this will put you in an unfair position, but . . ."

He trailed off, and—for the first time since Beverly had known him—appeared uncertain and perhaps a bit desperate. "Please," he held out an envelope with the name Cynthia scrawled on the front, "give this to her? I want her to have—if nothing else—some form of closure."

Going against every fiber in her being that told her she'd be better off drowning in the lake than taking the letter, she slipped it from his grasp. "No promises," she told him honestly. "If it feels right, then I will."

His smile was sad. "That's all I ask. Thank you, Beverly; regardless of what happens, remember that you always have a place at Silvertone." And then he rolled the window up and drove off, leaving Beverly half-lit by the lampposts, clutching an envelope tightly to her stomach.

God, her calculus homework made more sense then this mess.

Blowing out a weary sigh, Beverly turned and trudged up to her dorm, consumed by her thoughts the whole way.

She'd keep the letter safe, but she'd been telling Mr. Knott the truth; she would only give Cynthia the envelope if it felt right. The last thing she needed was to create her own drama with the woman who had been so kind to her.

Besides, her brain snarked, Griffin will probably hate you regardless of what you do—he despises Mr. Knott.

Shut up.

Opening the door to her dorm, she was pleased to find it empty—at least she'd be able to tuck the note somewhere safe without Deb watching her every movement. Of course, the other girl often went through Beverly's things on a regular basis already; her best bet was to keep the letter near her.

Slipping a folder out of her backpack, she tucked the letter inside, making sure it wouldn't crease before sliding the folder back into the safety of her bag. She rarely let the backpack out of her sight, so it would be safe there.

Giving the backpack a pat before hiding it under her bed, Beverly shifted her attention to her desktop computer. The whole ordeal with Cynthia and Mr. Knott was always bothering her, but tonight was even worse than normal.

She would never even consider reading the letter meant for Cynthia—she had morals, after all—but she was tempted to use the knowledge of the internet. Mr. Knott was well-known, in both their city and the rest of the nation; surely, if there was drama, it would have been publicized.

Pushing aside the voice that told her snooping was wrong, Beverly typed Francis Knott into the search engine, her heart in her throat.

Various news reports greeted her, and she scrolled through several pages before realizing that the search would take forever this way. Whatever had happened between them had occurred several years ago, at least, so she'd need to change her tactic.