Then, below them, she typed one more line, just for herself.
The list has begun.
Chapter 5: The Coffee Room
The break room on twenty was meant for everyone and arranged for no one. The executive floor had its own espresso machine behind a glass door; this room had a coffeemaker that gurgled like it resented its job, a refrigerator with a sign about labeling leftovers, and a long counter where people clustered in knots. She watched the knots. Most sorted by seniority and department, a few by something older and quieter. She noted it in her phone, time-stamped, the way Mark had taught her.
She was pouring coffee when two men arrived at the counter. Late forties, quarter-zip pullovers, the practiced ease of middle management. The sandy-haired one turned as the machine hissed.
"So," he said. "The new owner. Anybody know anything?"
"Only that the check cleared," said the other, glasses. "My guy in finance says the number started with a B."
"A billion, huh? Well, long as he keeps the bonuses rolling, he can redecorate however he likes."
"And keeps his hands off how we run things." Glasses lowered his voice, but not much. "Some owners come in with consultants and culture surveys. He'll learn the old way prints money."
Victoria stirred her coffee without turning around. A murmur carries in a small room when the speaker believes the only ears present are friendly ones.
"He's going to need people who know this building," the grin said. "The guys who kept the lights on before he signed."
"Protect the bonuses, protect the playbook." Glasses raised his cup. "To the new boss."
"To the new boss," the grin said, and Victoria understood she had just met two men who had spent the morning preparing to manage her.
She carried her cup to a small table by the window. Downtown Chicago, glass on glass. A chair scraped beside her.
"Is this seat taken, or are you conducting a private summit?"
The woman was twenty-eight, slim, locs pulled back with a bright patterned headwrap, a laptop stickered with a dozen flags and jokes. Her badge said TAMARA OKAFOR, SOFTWARE ENGINEERING. Her mug read WORLD'S OKAYEST DEBUGGER, and her grin said the mug was lying.
"It's a summit," Victoria said. "Attendance is mandatory. Sit."
Tam sat. "I'm Tam. Junior software engineer, the one who actually reads the error logs."
"Victoria. Facilities." She said it smoothly, the way she had said it in the lobby. "Observing the building today."
Tam raised an eyebrow. "Facilities observes? That's new." She sipped her coffee, then glanced toward the counter. "Let me guess. You heard them."
"I hear everything in this room," Victoria said. "The coffeemaker broadcasts."
"The new boss toast? Yeah." Tam leaned in, low and amused. "Every guy in a quarter-zip is polishing his pitch for a man he's never met. Best part: he. Everybody says he. Nobody's seen a photo, nobody knows a name, and somehow it's already he."
Victoria smiled into her cup. "Maybe they just like the word."
"Maybe the word likes them," Tam said, and snorted at her own joke. "It's safer. If the owner is some guy like them, nothing has to change. The bonuses, the playbook, the little rituals." She ticked them off on her fingers. "A woman shows up with a plan, that's a disruption. A Black woman shows up with a plan, that's a whole new universe, and nobody in a quarter-zip is ready for liftoff."
"That's a bold theory to share with a stranger in facilities," Victoria said.
Tam shrugged. "You're the first person here who sat down and looked at the room. Most people check their phone and float to their own knot. You were counting knots. I saw you." She tapped her mug. "I count knots too. Best skill, worst habit."
"You count them, or you say something about them?"
"Both," Tam said. "Usually in that order. Usually to my own disadvantage." She studied Victoria with open curiosity. "Two hours in. What's your read? Give me the facilities report."
Victoria considered her. Sharp, funny, brave enough to talk plainly to someone she took for building staff, and by her own admission penalized for it. The kind of person a healthy company promoted.
"My read," Victoria said, "is that the machine on twenty-one makes better espresso, but the people down here tell better stories."
Tam laughed, a real laugh that turned two heads. "Oh, I like you. Sit at my summit anytime." Then, half-joking: "Honestly, I'm starting to think nobody knows what the new CEO looks like. No picture, no name. It's the weirdest thing."
Victoria held her gaze, smiled, and said nothing at all.
Tam's grin widened. She lifted her mug. "To mysteries."
Victoria touched her paper cup to the mug. "To mysteries," she said, and thought that of everything she had documented that morning, this small alliance might prove the most valuable of all.