18

Oscar

I set out the catered food and stare at the conference table. Is it enough? Maybe it’s too much.

A knock sounds.

“Come in,” I say. Dolly enters the conference room and stares at the assortment of food.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I totally thought this was just us.”

“It is.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Oscar, you have like, an entire feast laid out for us.” She stares at the food. She doesn’t look unhappy.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“So you ordered sweet and sour chicken, enchiladas, quesadillas, burgers, sandwiches, and pasta.”

“Which one would you like?”

“All of it,” she says, laughing.

“Let’s dig in.”

She stares.

“We can’t eat all of this, Oscar.”

“Don’t worry,” I say. “We’ll share. Make a plate, we’ll go into my office, and I’ll let everyone else know it’s a free-for-all.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

This seems to calm her down. Together, we each make a plate of food. We head into my office, which is connected to the conference room. I close the door. Then I send out a quick message on my computer to let the assistants and receptionists on this floor know they can come take what they want. The other admins are in a meeting, and I’m pretty sure they don’t actually need free food, anyway.

“Sit down, Dolly.”

“Where?”

“There are a number of seating options. Choose what you want.”

She stares at me.

“What?”

“I don’t want to choose wrong,” she says.

“You can sit in front of my desk in one of the chairs there,” I say. “There’s also the couch in front of the fireplace. What sounds better?”

“The couch.”

“Then go there.”

“I might spill.”

“You won’t spill, Dolly.”

“I might.”

“Dolly, I don’t care if you spill. Just sit.”

She moves somewhat reluctantly to the couch. She sits, crossing her legs. Then Dolly tries to balance her plate on her knees.

I set my own plate down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Then I tug the table closer to both of us.

“Dolly,” I say.

“Oscar.”

“Tell me everything you know about Project Sunshine.”