“We don’t have a maintenance staff, Mom,” I said, pulling my arm free from her grip.

I flipped the heavy manual breaker down.

A loud click echoed through the concrete basement, and the high-pitched whining sound dropped an octave before dying out completely.

The blinking red light on the panel turned a steady, calm amber.

“It’s just a feedback loop from the secondary capacitor,” Derek explained, wiping his damp forehead with the back of his hand.

“Fascinating,” Marcus said, scribbling quickly in his small paper notebook.

My mother cleared her throat, adjusting her silk scarf with a sharp, defensive jerk of her hand.

“Well, now that the little technical glitch is resolved, perhaps we can get that photograph,” she said.

She pointed toward a clean, empty corner of the room where our company logo was painted on the white brick wall.

“Sarah, stand there by the sign, please,” she said, her voice dropping into her practiced charity-gala tone.

She looked at the photographer, who was busy adjusting the heavy zoom lens on his camera.

“We want to capture the face of the company,” my mother said, gesturing for me to move.