The Living Room (41 page)

They were only a few minutes away from the house. Ian hopped out as soon as the car rolled to a stop. Amy and Megan went into the house together.

“What are you going to do now?” Amy asked her when they reached the kitchen.

“I’m not going to take a nap, if that’s what you mean. None of my friends at school could believe you were making me go to the doctor just because I went to sleep. Sometimes I wonder what in the world you’re thinking. You know the blood test is going to come back normal.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Megan rolled her eyes and left the room.

Jeff was running late from work and came in as Amy was putting the final touches on supper.

“I need to take a quick shower,” he said. “We got into some nasty places today in a cluster of rental units not far from the county recreation center. I couldn’t believe people were living in there up until a few months ago. There were needles on the floors and all kinds of drug paraphernalia lying around—”

“Take your shower,” Amy interrupted. “We need to eat before supper is ruined.”

As soon as they were seated at the supper table, Jeff asked about Megan’s trip to the doctor.

“He doesn’t think I have diabetes, but they’re doing a blood test anyway,” Megan replied. “And do you remember the cute little blonde named Candace who was in the Christmas recital? I think she’s either six or seven.”

“Uh, there were a lot of little blond-haired girls hopping across the stage,” Jeff replied. “It’s hard for me to tell one from the other.”

“Anyway, she’s Dr. Simmons’s granddaughter. There’s going to be a special practice Saturday morning for the spring show, and I hope she’ll be there.”

“Saturday morning?” Amy asked. “I didn’t know anything about that.”

“Don’t worry, I already have a ride.”

“Who’s taking you?” Amy asked.

“Mr. Ryan is going to pick me up. I told him I had to be home at eleven o’clock from the pizza party because I have dance class the following morning, and he said he’d like to watch. He’s also going to pick up Molly Prichard.”

“No,” Amy said flatly. “We’ll take you to dance practice. And you don’t have to come home early from the pizza party because of dance practice.”

“I only said that because I was too embarrassed to admit I have such a lame curfew for an adult-supervised event.”

Jeff spoke. “Amy, don’t forget we volunteered to be at the Connors’ house at nine o’clock on Saturday to help them pack up for their move to Oklahoma.”

“You volunteered,” Amy corrected.

“Okay, but I’m sure Tammy could use the help.”

Amy also remembered her commitment to spend time with Natalie going over her children’s book.

“All right, but I also have to get together with Natalie.”

After the meal was over, Amy and Jeff stood side by side in front of the sink doing the dishes. In a soft voice she told him about Ms. Robbins’s suggestion that Megan be drug-tested.

“I could tell you were upset during supper,” Jeff said.

“But what do you think? I didn’t get a chance to talk to Dr. Simmons in private. And all he did was screen Megan for diabetes and check her electrolytes.”

Jeff was scrubbing the pan Amy used to cook the main dish.

“I don’t know. To falsely accuse Megan of something like that could cause a huge rift that might be very tough to heal.”

“But what if it isn’t false? Catching something early can be crucial to keeping it from becoming a bigger problem.”

Jeff put the pan in the dishwasher.

“Let’s keep our eyes open. If there’s really a problem, she won’t be able to hide it.”

Amy wasn’t so sure.

twenty-seven

M
egan’s blood work at Dr. Simmons’s office came back completely normal. When she called for the results, Amy asked in as casual a voice as she could manage if the test included a check for illegal or street drugs.

“No,” the physician’s assistant replied. “I don’t see that on the doctor’s order.”

“Could that sort of test be run?”

“We’d need a new blood sample. Once the analysis is complete, the lab doesn’t store the unused material. Would you like to schedule another appointment and bring Megan in?”

Amy hesitated. “Not at this time. I should have asked Dr. Simmons about it the other day.”

“If you have reason to be concerned, it’s better to know a problem exists than wonder.”

“I know, but my husband wants to wait.”

As soon as she spoke, Amy felt bad for criticizing Jeff to a stranger.

“There’s no harm in talking to your daughter about drug usage,” the woman continued. “A common mistake parents make is assuming a child won’t experiment. Peer pressure can be a powerful force.”

“Megan has a good group of friends,” Amy replied with more confidence than she felt. “But I’ll try to find a time to bring it up in a way that doesn’t seem like I’m attacking her or don’t trust her.”

“What is your e-mail address? I’ll send you the link to a website that will help you with the conversation,” the woman said.

Amy gave her the information.

“This comes up a lot more than you’d think,” the woman said. “And in good families. Don’t be afraid. Take action.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Amy hung up. A minute later she received an e-mail with the link. Before she could go online, Mr. Phillips buzzed her.

“Come into my office,” he said.

“Should I bring anything?”

“Something to take notes.”

Amy picked up a steno pad. The senior partner had a thick file spread out in front of him. Amy sat down across from his desk.

“I’ve been working on the Thompson Trust for the past twenty-four hours,” he said. “Are you aware a man named Carville from the UK claims his deceased father and Raymond Thompson had joint business interests in Africa?”

“Yes, sir. I typed a memo you dictated about it.”

“Of course you did.” Mr. Phillips rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “Mr. Carville and his solicitor flew to Raleigh yesterday, and I met with them at a hotel near the airport. They told me there are oil wells in production on the coast of Nigeria close to the area controlled by Thompson and Carville. However, to exploit them is going to require additional expense from Carville and the trust. The decision whether to spend the money is in my hands.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Carville is willing to put up his share of the additional development costs, and he’s put the money in his solicitor’s escrow account.”

“How much?”

“Around a million dollars in US currency.”

Amy pursed her lips.

“If Carville wasn’t willing to put up his share, it would be an easy decision. I’d advise the beneficiaries of the trust to walk away from it.” Mr. Phillips pointed to the documents on his desk. “I’ve looked over
the paperwork, and Thompson owned seventy-five percent of this company. That means the trust would have to pony up three million dollars to see this thing through. Normally, I wouldn’t recommend that level of risk, but the return would be ten times the investment.”

The amounts of money Mr. Phillips was talking about were so large that they were only numbers in Amy’s head.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“I’ve located at least two firms that can examine the project and give us expert opinions about the risk. I want you to find out everything you can about the consultants and get back to me. There’s no way this kind of decision should be made by us in-house.”

Amy hesitated. “Mr. Phillips, I’m not trying to avoid work, but that sounds like something one of the lawyers should do.”

“I’m putting Chris and Morgan Jessup on it as well. There can’t be too much redundancy on something this important. Don’t consult with either one of them. Report back to me.”

“Yes, sir.” Amy wrote down the names of the two consulting firms. “Would you need to talk to the beneficiaries of the trust about it?”

“That should only be done when I’m satisfied with the legal opinion I’m going to give. Based on past history, they won’t agree, and I’ll have to step in and make the call. It creates a very touchy situation. The firm is subject to liability whatever we recommend. The responsibility made it tough for me to fall asleep last night, and at this point in my career that’s not the kind of pressure I want.”

Mr. Phillips rarely showed weakness.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll do my part,” Amy said.

“That’s it for now. Get back to me with your recommendation by Friday morning.”

Over the next few days, Amy was surprised at how much she enjoyed her new assignment. In between her normal dictation duties, she conducted research on the Internet, but more important, she contacted individuals and firms that had used the services of the different consultants. Coming up with a recommendation wasn’t
easy. She discovered there were clients who didn’t like a consultant because they didn’t get the answers they wanted; clients who were pleased with the consultant’s opinion at the time it was given but dissatisfied when it didn’t prove accurate in the long run; clients who were initially unhappy with a consultant but ultimately came to appreciate the advice; clients who didn’t like anything about the consultant; and clients who thought the consultant was the repository of the highest level of business wisdom. Amy developed a spreadsheet to chart her results.

At home Megan had no further instances of unexplained afternoon sleepiness. Ms. Robbins’s comment about possible drug usage didn’t drop off Amy’s radar, but it faded further in the rearview mirror. Ian received a good report on his arm from the orthopedist, and it looked like he might get his cast off early.

Thursday night after supper Amy went up to the writing room. Each stage in writing a book held its own unique challenges and pleasures. In the beginning, the freshness of meeting the new characters and discovering who they were intrigued her. During the middle section of a book, there was the ebb and flow of success and failure that lay along the characters’ developmental arcs. And toward the end of a book, Amy often found herself typing as fast as she could to find out what happened next. Even though she generally knew the end of a story, the exact path the characters followed to get there held surprises for her as well as her readers.

In the opening chapters of
Deeds
of
Darkness
, the courage of Amy’s main character in facing serious challenges made her someone a reader would want to root for. This was a key element for a successful novel. If readers didn’t care about the characters, why would they want to spend time finding out what happened to them? And the teenage niece would have no problem attracting her own cheering section. Her mixture of toughness, tenderness, and neediness was sure to touch maternal hearts.