A Thanksgiving Meal
"You've had a lot of good days, Katharina," Micke spoke up.
"You haven't had a full staff here in weeks. You've come in on your days off. You've run this place when no one else was around to do it. You've handled crisis after crisis—and not just the Fest thing. I'm talking about the whole situation with Wilson too."
I sat up straighter. "What are you going to do? You aren't going to fire him, are you? Because it wasn't all him . . . I mean, there were extenuating circumstances. He's better now. He's the best employee you've got."
"We've spoken to him," said Warren calmly.
"And he'll stay on for now, although he understands he'll sort of be on probation."
Relief coursed through me. "Good. That's really good."
"I'm glad you think so because you'll be the one who's supervising him."
"I—what?" My train of thought derailed horrifically, and I looked back and forth between their faces, waiting for the punch line.