his sister to fill out if she wants to hire me.â I studied my list of supplies to make sure I had everything Iâd need if I actually took thisassignmentâmarkers, label maker, empty files, see-through containers, garbage bags, catalogues of shelf organizers and office supplies. âIâm simply going to meet the sister. Together we will decide if sheâd like me to work with her.â
âIt doesnât sound to me like she has much say in the matter.â Theresa snapped her gum. âFired by her own brother from her own company. Wicked. I wonder what she did to deserve this.â
My thoughts exactly. I hadnât even met the woman I was supposed to assist and I was already enraged at the way she was being treated. In my family, we went to the mat for one another. I couldnât imagine either of my brothers doing anything like this to me. I know what it is to be the adored little sisterâit doesnât involve being kicked out of a family business. What kind of jerk was this Hamilton guy, anyway? Iâm even annoyed with myself for thinking he was good-looking now that I know what heâs up to. I usually have better taste than that.
âNext step, his royal highness and the command performance,â I muttered.
Â
I was early, I realized as I drove south on France Avenue. Hamiltonâs office wasnât far from Benjaminâs home. Impulsively, I turned the corner and headed for Benâs place. He usually works at home on Thursdays and since I didnât want to arrive too early at Hamilton and Hamilton, it was a logical stop.
Benâs place is a sophisticated junkyard as far as Iâm concerned. Sophisticated because everything he collects involves circuitry, wires, computer chips and other scientific-looking litter. He also amasses huge numbers of books with titles so dull and dry that Iâm stumped as to where he finds them all. Itâs probable that someone in his family wrote them. For example, until I met Ben, I never knew how many kinds of physics therewereâquantum, classical, conceptual, particle, statistical, thermal, nuclearâthe exhilarating list goes on and on.
Benâs thinking of naming the book heâs writing Aristotle, Einstein, Murphyâs Law and Little Old Me. Iâm sure it will read like a thriller compared to the others on his shelf. Meanwhile his house is still a junkyard. Ben can wire together an electric razor and a vacuum cleaner and have the thing clean the carpets and turn them from shag into plush at the same time but he canât find a way to corral wire nuts, microchips or the tiny scraps of paper on which ideas for brilliant new inventions are written. Ben would have invented a cure for the common cold by now if only he could find the deposit slip on which he wrote the idea when it first came to him.
âHey!â I called from the doorway. âAnybody here?â
âJust us mice.â Ben appeared from his bedroom with a book under one arm. He was wearing gray sweatpants, a âScientists Make Connectionsâ T-shirt and a hairdo created by a tornado. âWhat are you doing here?â
âIâm on my way to meet a client and I thought Iâd stop to say hello.â
âIs she cute?â Ben inquired.
âNo date for this weekend, huh?â
âJust thought Iâd ask. Want coffee?â Ben looked around dazedly as if he were trying to remember where he had put the coffeepot. âIâve also got chocolate.â
Ben knows me too well.
âMaybe some for later. I canât stay.â
He turned around and headed for the kitchen. Shortly he came back with a bag of chocolate chips, an Oreo and a large package of assorted miniature candy bars. âWhatâs your fancy?â
âCandy bars, I think.â
He thrust the entire bag into my hands. âEnjoy.â
âI canât take all your candy.â
âYou wonât. Iâm working
Victoria Christopher Murray