“No.”
Evan set down the pages.
“What happens to the other thirty people?”
Grant’s expression hardened almost invisibly.
“This agreement concerns you.”
“So nothing.”
“They can raise their own issues.”
“Some already have.”
“Then HR will handle them.”
Evan pushed the agreement back.
“Then this doesn’t solve the problem.”
Grant stared.
“What exactly do you want?”
“I want wages paid correctly.”
“You’re being offered yours.”
“That isn’t the same answer.”
Grant’s patience broke.
The change was subtle.
His voice became colder.
“Blackidge has carried operational employees through two extremely difficult quarters.”
Evan said nothing.
“Decisions made in this room kept people employed.”
Still nothing.
“You’ve worked here eleven years.”
“Yes.”
“This company fed you for eleven years.”
Evan looked at him.
“No.”
Grant frowned.
“I worked here for eleven years. Blackidge paid me under an employment agreement. That is not charity.”
Dana’s eyes moved toward him.
Grant leaned forward.
“You have a daughter.”
Dana’s pen stopped.
“A mortgage.”
Preston looked at Grant now.
Grant continued.
“You may want to think carefully about which side of this you want to be standing on when January begins.”
There it was.
Not explicit enough to call a threat.
Clear enough that everyone understood.
Evan waited until Grant finished.
Then he said:
“I have never asked Blackidge for a favor.”
Grant’s face reddened.
“No?”