Breaking Point

wore designer glasses that drew attention to her already oversized blue eyes. She smiled enthusiastically with her entire mouth, upper and lower teeth framed by a box of thin lips and thrust out at him in an overeager way. Joe felt more than slightly bowled over by the sheer intensity of her studied sincerity.
    He hadn’t even settled in the seat across from her before she started talking.
    “On my run this morning with the sun just lighting up the mountains, I thought: what a magnificent place this is,” she said, waggling her fingers in the air. “Mountains and fresh air, clean water in the streams, and I even saw some mule deer along the path. Two females and their babies, just watching me run past them, and I thought: we need to preserve this for future generations. They need to see and experience nature in the same way we do, and I’m afraid we sometimes take what we’ve got for granted, you know?”
    Joe said, “Yup.”
    “I think an important part of our agency’s mission should be to encourage the appreciation and sense of wonder a viable wildlife population brings us. I hope that doesn’t sound too touchy-feely, but I believe it.”
    Joe nodded in agreement, but had trouble keeping eye contact because her look was so . . . intense. He was relieved when the waitress came over and asked for his order.
    “He doesn’t have a menu,” Greene-Dempsey said archly to the waitress.
    The server was middle-aged and overweight, with broad features, stout legs, and a no-nonsense set to her mouth. Her name badge said MAYVONNE . She’d worked at the restaurant for as long as Joe could remember, and she was known for sass. She took a deep breath, as if holding her tongue was a struggle, glanced at Joe, then glared at his new boss.
    “That’s okay,” Joe told MayVonne quickly, trying to avert an outbreak of hostilities. “I’ll have the usual.”
    As MayVonne filled his coffee cup she said, “Two eggs over-easy, ham, wheat toast, no hash browns?”
    “Yup.”
    “Ketchup and Tabasco on the side?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    She grunted and turned on her heel for the kitchen.
    “The service here could be better,” Greene-Dempsey said, watching the waitress retreat. “And the food . . .” she said, making a face and gesturing to her picked-through fruit plate. “It’s not exactly fresh. Who knows how long it’s been sitting around back there?”
    “We’re a long way from fruit orchards and the ocean,” Joe said. “I don’t eat much that doesn’t come from somewhere closer.” He shrugged. “It’s sort of part of the deal.”
    Greene-Dempsey shot a look at the swinging batwing doors to the kitchen MayVonne had pushed through.
    She said, “She needs to work on her attitude.”
    Joe shrugged and said, “MayVonne has a boy in Afghanistan and a husband who can’t find work. This is her second job. I cut her a little slack.”
    “Oh,” LGD said, embarrassed.
    —
    G REENE- D EMPSEY SAID, “Before we discuss the matter at hand, I want to completely clear the air as far as you and the department goes.”
    Joe looked up. “I didn’t know there was air to clear.”
    She laughed uncomfortably and said, “Of course there is, but not to worry. As far as I’m concerned, we all start fresh. It’s a brand-new day, and it will soon be a rebranded agency, and I want all of my people—all of my
team
—to know that whatever happened in the past stays in the past. As I said, we all start fresh. The slate is wiped clean.”
    She said it with a sense of triumph.
    When Joe didn’t respond, she said, “Some people might have been troubled by things that have happened along the way. Some might say a certain game warden was a little too close in proximity when a former director was brutally killed, or a little too familiar with a certain federal fugitive who lived nearby. Some might say that a career history marked by certain periods of defiance to policy and outright insubordination are indicators of future defiance to policy and future insubordination. But those people would be wrong.”
    Before Joe could respond and ask who “those people” were, Greene-Dempsey said, “I have something for you.”
    “What—my severance papers?”
    She laughed loudly, and playfully slapped the back of his hand. “You’re such a character,” she said.
    He knew he grimaced.
    “Here,” she said, handing over a large, thick legal-sized envelope.
    He took it.
    “Open it,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
    Joe worked