Then one night, he handed me a sealed envelope, and whispered, "Promise me you'll never tell a soul what's inside." The doors slid open onto a hallway of dimmed sconces and polished wood, every executive door closed, every office dark. I learned to push my cart past Peter's door without lifting my eyes. As I was pushing my cart past his office, he said something that made me stop dead. Peter turned on her with a quietness that frightened me more than shouting.