And Karen. Everywhere.
Jack’s older sister has stayed close since he died. She brought casseroles. She checked on the kids constantly. During the service, she squeezed my hand so tightly I thought she might be the only person there who truly understood what had happened to me.
But she also kept repeating one thing.
“Don’t start sorting through Jack’s work things yet. Let the company handle the paperwork first.”
At the time, it sounded sensible.
Now it sounds like a threat.
Two days after the funeral, Nolan showed up at the house.
He introduced himself as Human Resources, but the card he handed me said Director of Employee Relations and Risk Management. He brought a fruit basket and a perfectly organized folder filled with forms.
Sitting at my kitchen table, he said, “I know this is overwhelming. These documents release immediate benefits, accidental death compensation, and support for your children.”
I flipped through the papers. They were not only benefits. It was a settlement agreement. If I signed it, I would be accepting the company’s version of Jack’s death as a workplace accident, waiving certain legal claims, and agreeing not to disclose company materials connected to his employment.
He slid a pen across the table toward me.
Karen stood by the sink and said quietly, “Lisa, this is probably for the best.”
Something inside me turned cold.
I said, “I need more time.”
Nolan smiled, but the expression looked rehearsed. “There are deadlines.”
After they left, I went into the garage.
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