Read Online Among the Ducklings by Marsh Brooks - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marsh Brooks
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emailed her completed work to the
office. Then she placed calls to Mark
and Mark's parents, Frank and Melinda Miles. She could not reach either of them
and had to leave messages. It was already early afternoon when she reached the
Center for another grueling therapy session and an equally unnerving possible
meeting with Phil.
##
Earlier
that day, when Phil woke up in the morning, all of his self-doubt was
gone. He took a quick shower and headed
to the office. His company was a short twenty-minute drive from his house in
South Miami. However, with the slow
Miami traffic at its peak in the morning, it took him more than one hour to get
there. Phil, who took French and Spanish classes in college, was listening to a
Spanish ballad called “Rosa” in his car by Italian singer Nicola Di Bari, when
he reached his office in Coral Gables.
“Hi Boss.
Everyone is in the conference room. Meeting starts in five minutes,” Myra, Phil's secretary, said
as he entered the office.
The
building was an old, Spanish style, one story house converted into an office
building. The top of the front door and each of the windows was curved like an
arch with painted glass that seemed to belong more to a church than an office
building. The interior of the building was completely remodeled with the lobby
being at the center, and the rooms and offices forming a circle around the
lobby. Except for the size differences,
each of the individual offices was a two-room suite with the same design: a
sitting room at the front with the secretarial desk facing the sofas for the
guests, and an interior office for each individual expert in the back. In a few
short years, Phil's company had grown from a one-man shop to a staff of
fifteen, with experts from different professional backgrounds, ranging from
Accident Reconstruction to Evidence Evaluation and Jury Consulting. The weekly meeting was to provide updates on
the firm's cases. It lasted about an hour.
The
building had two conference rooms and the meeting was held in the larger one,
which was adjacent to Phil's office suite. After the meeting, Phil went
straight to his office. As he passed by
his secretary's desk, Myra stopped him and said, “Stacy called.”
Myra knew about Stacy. Myra had been with Phil's firm before Phil ever met Stacy. During her years at the firm, Myra had seen
and talked to Stacy on several occasions, including at the many office and
holiday parties that Phil's company had thrown.
“What did
she say?” Phil asked.
“She left a
number for you to call her.”
“Did she
say why?”
“No, Boss.”
“Did she
say anything else?”
“Stacy
asked me how you were doing and I said that you had begun wearing these ugly
medical boots. That's all.”
Myra's last
statement caused Phil to smile.
“I didn't
know that they were supposed to be fashionable. Remind me to tell the doctor to
change the color for you,” Phil said as he opened the door to his office.
“Boss? One last thing,” Myra interrupted.
“Yes. What
is it?” Phil asked, turning slightly to look at her.
“Stacy
asked me not to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“She is
coming to Miami and wanted me to help her with something.”
“Did she
say why?”
“No.”
“Great,”
Phil mumbled as he entered his office.
Afterwards,
Phil then spent the whole morning preparing and reviewing final expert reports
that he and his staff had prepared for some of the law firms in town. By the time that Phil finished his work, it
was early afternoon. He was getting
ready to leave, when his secretary buzzed him.
“You have a
call, boss.”
“Who is
it?”
“It's
Stacy. She is on the other line.”
“OK, put
her through,” Phil said, wondering what she wanted.
“Yes,
Boss.”
A few
seconds later, Stacy's voice came through on the phone. It was as jovial as
Phil remembered it.
“Michelle
told me about your accident. I wanted to know how
office. Then she placed calls to Mark
and Mark's parents, Frank and Melinda Miles. She could not reach either of them
and had to leave messages. It was already early afternoon when she reached the
Center for another grueling therapy session and an equally unnerving possible
meeting with Phil.
##
Earlier
that day, when Phil woke up in the morning, all of his self-doubt was
gone. He took a quick shower and headed
to the office. His company was a short twenty-minute drive from his house in
South Miami. However, with the slow
Miami traffic at its peak in the morning, it took him more than one hour to get
there. Phil, who took French and Spanish classes in college, was listening to a
Spanish ballad called “Rosa” in his car by Italian singer Nicola Di Bari, when
he reached his office in Coral Gables.
“Hi Boss.
Everyone is in the conference room. Meeting starts in five minutes,” Myra, Phil's secretary, said
as he entered the office.
The
building was an old, Spanish style, one story house converted into an office
building. The top of the front door and each of the windows was curved like an
arch with painted glass that seemed to belong more to a church than an office
building. The interior of the building was completely remodeled with the lobby
being at the center, and the rooms and offices forming a circle around the
lobby. Except for the size differences,
each of the individual offices was a two-room suite with the same design: a
sitting room at the front with the secretarial desk facing the sofas for the
guests, and an interior office for each individual expert in the back. In a few
short years, Phil's company had grown from a one-man shop to a staff of
fifteen, with experts from different professional backgrounds, ranging from
Accident Reconstruction to Evidence Evaluation and Jury Consulting. The weekly meeting was to provide updates on
the firm's cases. It lasted about an hour.
The
building had two conference rooms and the meeting was held in the larger one,
which was adjacent to Phil's office suite. After the meeting, Phil went
straight to his office. As he passed by
his secretary's desk, Myra stopped him and said, “Stacy called.”
Myra knew about Stacy. Myra had been with Phil's firm before Phil ever met Stacy. During her years at the firm, Myra had seen
and talked to Stacy on several occasions, including at the many office and
holiday parties that Phil's company had thrown.
“What did
she say?” Phil asked.
“She left a
number for you to call her.”
“Did she
say why?”
“No, Boss.”
“Did she
say anything else?”
“Stacy
asked me how you were doing and I said that you had begun wearing these ugly
medical boots. That's all.”
Myra's last
statement caused Phil to smile.
“I didn't
know that they were supposed to be fashionable. Remind me to tell the doctor to
change the color for you,” Phil said as he opened the door to his office.
“Boss? One last thing,” Myra interrupted.
“Yes. What
is it?” Phil asked, turning slightly to look at her.
“Stacy
asked me not to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“She is
coming to Miami and wanted me to help her with something.”
“Did she
say why?”
“No.”
“Great,”
Phil mumbled as he entered his office.
Afterwards,
Phil then spent the whole morning preparing and reviewing final expert reports
that he and his staff had prepared for some of the law firms in town. By the time that Phil finished his work, it
was early afternoon. He was getting
ready to leave, when his secretary buzzed him.
“You have a
call, boss.”
“Who is
it?”
“It's
Stacy. She is on the other line.”
“OK, put
her through,” Phil said, wondering what she wanted.
“Yes,
Boss.”
A few
seconds later, Stacy's voice came through on the phone. It was as jovial as
Phil remembered it.
“Michelle
told me about your accident. I wanted to know how
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