Me: Where did you go?

I look down at my phone, expecting her to answer, but she doesn’t.

“Hey,” Ralph says when he sees me looking down at my phone as I wait for Caroline to answer me. “Do you have a minute?” he asks me, looking around.

“Yeah,” I say, looking at him and seeing he is unsure of whatever he has to say. “Let’s go into the office.” I lead the way into the offices and go inside one of the empty ones and close the door. “What’s up?”

“Listen, I think what you are doing here is amazing,” he says, then he runs his hands through his hair. “You are giving these kids a chance to be something.” I just look at him. “All of us are here for one reason or another, but Amy”—he shakes his head—“I just can’t.”

“What happened?” I ask him, my blood starting to boil.

“A father just went up to her to hand her his new contact information, and she refused to take the paper from him because his hands were dirty.” He shakes his head. “She told him to put it down on her desk and she would take care of it. The way she jumped when he tried to hand it to her. Dude, it was …”

“That is unacceptable,” I tell him. “This is my name. It’s the Justin Stone Foundation. If you work for me, you represent me, and she definitely does not represent me when she acts like that. What is wrong with her?”

“That is a loaded question, and my mother told me to be kind to women,” Ralph says, laughing. “I just thought you would want to know.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, and he walks out of the room. Taking a seat, I look down at my phone, and I decide to go to her after the meeting.

I walk into the meeting already tense and on pins and needles to get this show over. I sit at the head of the table, and my team sits around the table. Ralph is also there as well as Malika, who is taking notes.

“One thing I was thinking of,” Malika starts to say, “is a weekend program.” Looking over at her, she continues, “Many of these parents work on the weekends, so we could have a free skate day on Saturday or a Sunday Family day.”

I start to say something when I hear Amy pffts out, and all eyes go to her. “You don’t think maybe these parents are taking advantage of this program already? I mean, seriously some of them are taking advantage of the whole system. Get a job. That should help you get off food stamps,” she says, and I want to slam my hand down on the table. But instead, I rein it in and push away from the table.