Why had he fired me in front of everyone, only to ask me to meet him secretly afterward?
Why by a lake?
Why after working hours?
And strangest of all…
Why did I need to dress nicely?
I was almost certain I wasn’t going.
But then I remembered his final words.
“Trust me for a few more hours.”
A little before seven, I arrived at the lake.
Mr. Wilson was already there.
He was wearing a red polo shirt, light-colored shorts, and looked nothing like the stern director I saw every day at work.
“You came,” he said.
“Yes. Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”
He glanced around.
“First, we need to do something.”
Then he handed his phone to a woman walking nearby.
“Would you mind taking a photo of us?”
I stared at him in confusion.
“A photo?”
“Yes. Just stand next to me and smile.”
