brought in samples of her extraordinary baking on a daily basis. Alberta kept bowls of the candy she was addicted to in here, because she knew if they were in her office she’d finish every last piece in very short order. Today—nothing.
I stomped upstairs and unlocked my office door. The first thing I did after booting up the long-asleep computer, was to start a pot of coffee. I had everything I needed to brew my own, but somehow the stuff that Lilly made downstairs always tasted
immeasurably better. For now, this would have to do. I knew I should have stopped at Starbucks. But I was feeling cheap these days.
I plopped my butt into my office chair and wondered what I had missed. I’d just spent the better part of a couple of weeks
with Errall. She’d said nothing about anyone closing up their offices. Then again, sharing important information with me was not Errall’s forte. She’d been known to take pleasure from surprising people unfairly by springing previously undisclosed
information on them. She was, after all, a lawyer.
I grabbed the phone and dialled Beverly’s home number. No answer. Then Alberta. Same thing. Had the world gone crazy?
Step away from your life for a few months and see what happens. Anarchy.
The phone rang and I hurriedly picked up.
“Welcome back, Mr. Quant!” a singsong voice warbled out of the receiver. Lilly! And that is why she is the best receptionist in the world.
“Lilly! Thank you. How are you? How’s the new kid?”
“He’s growing like a snowball rolling down a hill. He looks just like Brad.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Her sweet laugh tinkled over the phone line. “So are you back for good now? We really missed you!”
“And I’m really missing you, Lilly. It was a rude surprise to show up today and find you weren’t here.”
“It worked out perfect though, don’t you think? You were gone, Errall and Beverly are both on vacation, and Alberta’s car
won’t start.” She tittered. “She decided it was a sign; the spirits telling her to work from her home until the weather warms up.”
In only a couple of sentences, Lilly had made my world right again. Did I mention that she is the best receptionist in the
world? “More like the spirit of the guy at the garage telling her to buy a car worth more than sixty bucks.”
“Oh, Mr. Quant. Well, I just wanted to call and say welcome back. Is there anything I can do for you from home?”
“Just hurry up and raise that baby fast, so you can come back to us very soon.”
“That’s sweet. It won’t be too long, I promise.”
“Thanks, Lilly. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Phew.
I stared at the phone. Then the blank computer screen. The barren inbox on my desk. The Day-Timer opened on my desk to
some long-forgotten week from the previous year. The dusty filing cabinet across the room. Ta Da! I was open for business.
Day one.
Nothing happened.
I drummed my fingers on the desktop.
Still nothing.
I needed work. Over the past year, I’d been careful with funds, not to mention the grateful beneficiary of the generosity of friends. As such, my long-term retirement savings were safe and sound. The same could not be said for short-term cash. Soon
though, I knew, upon attempting withdrawal from my chequing account, I’d hear the telltale sound of scraping at the bottom of the barrel.
I hadn’t had a rainy day. I’d had a monsoon.
I needed to be patient. In a way, I was starting over. Now that my shingle was officially hung once again, business would
surely begin to trickle in. It always had before. There’d been lean times, there’d been feast times. This was just an extra-lean time. I would survive. In the meantime, I knew I should keep busy. So I put my fingers to work and began doing what detectives do best: snooping.
By lunchtime, I had a pretty decent picture of the life lived by Hilda Kraus’s daughter. Lynette Kraus was thirty-eight years old, never married, no children. She left home at eighteen and,
I stomped upstairs and unlocked my office door. The first thing I did after booting up the long-asleep computer, was to start a pot of coffee. I had everything I needed to brew my own, but somehow the stuff that Lilly made downstairs always tasted
immeasurably better. For now, this would have to do. I knew I should have stopped at Starbucks. But I was feeling cheap these days.
I plopped my butt into my office chair and wondered what I had missed. I’d just spent the better part of a couple of weeks
with Errall. She’d said nothing about anyone closing up their offices. Then again, sharing important information with me was not Errall’s forte. She’d been known to take pleasure from surprising people unfairly by springing previously undisclosed
information on them. She was, after all, a lawyer.
I grabbed the phone and dialled Beverly’s home number. No answer. Then Alberta. Same thing. Had the world gone crazy?
Step away from your life for a few months and see what happens. Anarchy.
The phone rang and I hurriedly picked up.
“Welcome back, Mr. Quant!” a singsong voice warbled out of the receiver. Lilly! And that is why she is the best receptionist in the world.
“Lilly! Thank you. How are you? How’s the new kid?”
“He’s growing like a snowball rolling down a hill. He looks just like Brad.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Her sweet laugh tinkled over the phone line. “So are you back for good now? We really missed you!”
“And I’m really missing you, Lilly. It was a rude surprise to show up today and find you weren’t here.”
“It worked out perfect though, don’t you think? You were gone, Errall and Beverly are both on vacation, and Alberta’s car
won’t start.” She tittered. “She decided it was a sign; the spirits telling her to work from her home until the weather warms up.”
In only a couple of sentences, Lilly had made my world right again. Did I mention that she is the best receptionist in the
world? “More like the spirit of the guy at the garage telling her to buy a car worth more than sixty bucks.”
“Oh, Mr. Quant. Well, I just wanted to call and say welcome back. Is there anything I can do for you from home?”
“Just hurry up and raise that baby fast, so you can come back to us very soon.”
“That’s sweet. It won’t be too long, I promise.”
“Thanks, Lilly. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Phew.
I stared at the phone. Then the blank computer screen. The barren inbox on my desk. The Day-Timer opened on my desk to
some long-forgotten week from the previous year. The dusty filing cabinet across the room. Ta Da! I was open for business.
Day one.
Nothing happened.
I drummed my fingers on the desktop.
Still nothing.
I needed work. Over the past year, I’d been careful with funds, not to mention the grateful beneficiary of the generosity of friends. As such, my long-term retirement savings were safe and sound. The same could not be said for short-term cash. Soon
though, I knew, upon attempting withdrawal from my chequing account, I’d hear the telltale sound of scraping at the bottom of the barrel.
I hadn’t had a rainy day. I’d had a monsoon.
I needed to be patient. In a way, I was starting over. Now that my shingle was officially hung once again, business would
surely begin to trickle in. It always had before. There’d been lean times, there’d been feast times. This was just an extra-lean time. I would survive. In the meantime, I knew I should keep busy. So I put my fingers to work and began doing what detectives do best: snooping.
By lunchtime, I had a pretty decent picture of the life lived by Hilda Kraus’s daughter. Lynette Kraus was thirty-eight years old, never married, no children. She left home at eighteen and,
Similar Books
