Roland stood up. His chair scraped against the floor, a horrible, screeching sound.

“This is a mistake,” he said. His voice was shaking. “You don’t know the first thing about trucking. You make soap.”

“I make four million dollars a year in revenue,” she said.

The room went cold. I swear, the air just vanished.

“What?” he said.

“Four million,” she repeated. “And I have the capital to run this firm properly. I’ve already audited the books. I know exactly how much you were stealing from the fuel accounts.”

Roland looked like he’d been punched. He started to look around the room for some kind of support, but there wasn’t any.

“You can’t do this,” he said.

“I already did,” she said.

She started signing the papers. The pen scratched against the paper. It was the only sound in the room.

“I’m keeping the drivers on,” she said, without looking up. “I’m keeping the staff. But I’m not keeping the management.”

She finished the last page and pushed the folder toward him.

“I’m offering you a job, Roland,” she said.

He looked at her, his face turning a deep, ugly red. “A job?”

“Yes,” she said. “I need someone to unload the trucks. The pay is minimum wage, but it comes with a full benefits package. You can start Monday.”

He stood there, trembling. He looked at the documents, then at her. He looked like he wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

“I am not working for you,” he hissed.

“That’s your choice,” she said. “The desk is empty either way.”

He didn’t say another word. He just turned around and walked out the door. He didn’t even look back. He didn’t say goodbye to anyone. He just left.

I stood there, watching him disappear down the hallway. I felt a weird, hollow feeling in my chest.

Marlene walked over to the window and looked out at the truck yard. She looked down at the company name etched into the glass of the door.

She reached out and wiped a smudge off the corner.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

She looked at me, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes. It wasn’t happiness. It wasn’t anger. It was just relief.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m honestly just glad it’s over.”

We walked out of the building. The sun was still shining. The air felt exactly the same as it had when we arrived, but everything had changed.

Marlene got into the driver’s seat. She didn’t turn on the radio. She just started the car and pulled out into the traffic.

She didn’t mention the soap. She didn’t mention the candles. She didn’t mention Roland.

She just drove.

I looked at her, and I realized I didn’t know her at all. I thought I knew the sister who made soap in her kitchen. I thought I knew the woman who let her father-in-law walk all over her for a decade.