Chapter 25
Before the Conference—Boston, MA/Chicago, IL/Kansas City, MO
“Hey, Langley, the boss wants to see you.” It rankled Nora that Jack Elliott still called her by her last name, even after a year here.
And that he shouted across the office rather than walk over to her desk like a normal human being.
But he was unlikely to ever change, and he did have seniority, so she ignored the first three or four responses that came to mind.
“Thanks, Jack.”
It was kind of pathetic that her boss refused to use email to communicate in the office, but that was also unlikely to ever change, no matter how much time it would save everyone. Ninety percent of the things Mr. Brooks summoned people to his office for could be handled with a one sentence message.
She made her way through the maze of cubicles to Mr. Brooks’ cluttered office. When she sat across from him, she had to crane her neck to see him over the pile of books, magazines, and God only knew what else on his desk.
“You wanted to see me?”
He was shorter than her and had to stand to see over the junk and look properly at her. It had taken two months for Nora to train herself not to laugh at that.
“Yes, Nora. Your work has been exemplary recently.”
She hadn’t expected that. She hesitated for a moment, weighing her words, then she ignored her better judgment and said the first thing that had come to mind. “I don’t think Mr. Elliott thinks so.”
Her boss chuckled. “Has he thrown anything at you recently?” Nora gave him a blank look. Was he joking? “If Jack doesn’t throw a stapler at you—or his phone, if he’s in an especially foul mood—then he is satisfied with your work.”
“Couldn’t he learn to—I don’t know—behave like a grownup?” Nora regretted that as soon as she said it, but Mr. Brooks didn’t appear to be offended.
“That would be nice. But I’ve learned to live with his—let’s call the peculiarities. First, because he actually is an outstanding editor. And, second, because his uncle is on the board of our parent organization.”
That explained a lot. And, Nora supposed, it was almost a point in Jack Elliott’s favor that he hadn’t ever mentioned his family connection. Almost.
“Understood. And thank you. It’s encouraging to know you think I’m doing well.”
Mr. Brooks smiled, the sort of kindly smile she remembered her grandfather had, on the few occasions she’d seen him.
“Oh, I didn’t call you here merely to feed your ego, Nora.
I have an assignment for you.” He looked down, rummaged through the pile on his desk, and pulled out a brochure, which he handed to her.
“The National Technology Solutions Conference ?” Mr. Elliott always assigned articles. Why was Mr. Brooks asking her to write one?
“Yes, Nora. You’re going to be covering it on-site for Modern Computing . Twelve pages. Maybe sixteen, depending on the photographs.”
“I’m no photographer.” Why had she said that? Why didn’t she just thank him?
He still had that kindly smile. “I’m sure you’re selling yourself short. But we are sending a photographer. You’ll be supervising him.” He chuckled. “Well, he’ll be on his own most of the time, but you’ll direct him as needed.”
“Uh—thank you. It’s an honor. I’ll do my best.”
“Of course you will, Nora. If I ever thought you were doing less than that, you wouldn’t be here.”
She wasn’t sure if she’d just been praised or chastised. Maybe both. Could you do both at the same time?
Daniel , July 9
Daniel took his dinner out of the microwave, to the disapproval of his roommate.
“There are a hundred restaurants you can walk to from here. Why do you insist on that TV dinner garbage?”
He and Jeff had had this conversation a hundred times. “Because it’s quick and easy and there’s one little tray to throw out afterwards.” It sounded lame to his own ears, but he didn’t want to tell Jeff the real reasons.
First, because every dollar he didn’t spend eating out went into his savings; the same reason he was sharing an apartment when he could afford to live on his own with his salary.
And second, because he hated the loud, pushy crowds in this neighborhood; honestly, he kind of hated Chicago in general but the job was too good to think about trying to leave and move somewhere he’d actually enjoy living.
“You just want to get back to your computer and do work nobody actually asked you to do,” Jeff said. Well, that was true. “But maybe you’re the smart one after all. I shouldn’t be telling you, but you’re going to Kansas City next week.”
Daniel forgot about his dinner, and stared at Jeff. “For the conference? The National Technology Solutions Conference ?”
“I saw your name on the travel list,” Jeff told him. Jeff worked in accounting, so it made sense he would be involved in travel planning. “You’re down as Team Lead for the main booth.”
He was supposed to go two years ago—only a few weeks after he’d started the job—but at the last minute, there’d been a change in plans and he—twenty-two years old and not two months out of college—had been left behind to supervise the whole office for the week.
Then, last year, he’d gotten the flu the night before he was scheduled to fly out for the conference and his boss, Mr. Kincaid, had said, “Maybe next year, Typhoid Mary.” And that was that.
“You’re kidding,” Daniel said. Team Lead? He hadn’t even managed an intern, let alone six people. Why would Mr. Kincaid put him in charge of the company’s biggest booth at the company’s biggest conference?
“Something else I shouldn’t tell you—Kincaid put the paperwork through last week—you’re getting a raise, too.
I may have read the letter to justify it, and, well, he is seriously impressed with you.
And I don’t blame him. I can’t pretend to understand anything you’re working on, but I see you’re working your ass off on it.
So you can skip the false modesty, and you can dump that fake food into the trash and let me buy you a real dinner to celebrate. Okay?”
Daniel didn’t think Jeff would allow him to refuse. And, honestly, as much as he disliked the crowds, he didn’t want to refuse.
He was well aware of how hard he worked. And—maybe it was bragging, but it was still true—how good his work was. If his boss was noticing, why shouldn’t he celebrate? His parents and teachers had drilled it into him all his life: hard work, and good work, would eventually be rewarded.
Maybe it was time to start believing that.
Nora , July 12
It went against everything in her nature. Nora never packed ahead of time for a trip, and she certainly never made checklists of everything she needed to do before she headed to the airport.
Only obsessive weirdos did that; but then again, they didn’t show up at the major conference they were supposed to cover without everything they needed to do their job properly.
So she had to act like one herself. Checklists it was.
Plane ticket? In her purse already.
Conference badge and press credentials? Same.
Pager number for Kenny the photographer? Written in her little notebook, along with the external numbers for Mr. Brooks, Jack Elliott, and Arielle from the company travel office. And the notebook was in her purse, too.
The Mont Blanc pen? Right there in her purse as well, just as it had been ever since Daniel had given it to her. Not a day went by that she didn’t use it.
But that wasn’t what she needed to be thinking about now, was it? Back to the list.
Map of the convention center, and full conference schedule? In her carry-on bag, along with her travel makeup kit and toiletries.
Pager. Pager? It was somewhere in her apartment. She’d picked it up from the travel office yesterday, and she clearly remembered bringing it home, and testing it out. But what had she done with it after that?
It could wait. She still needed to pack her suitcase—the brand new one Dad bought for her over the weekend when she told him about the conference. He’d driven down from Providence, took her shopping, and refused to let her pick any of the cheaper models she pointed out.
“You worked hard, and you earned this opportunity, Pumpkin. I won’t have you going around like a hobo on your first big opportunity.
” So she had a top of the line Samsonite wheeled carry-on bag.
It was even a lovely shade of pink. “And make sure you do carry it on the plane,” her father had said when they got back to her apartment.
“You’ve seen how they throw the bags around when they’re loading the plane up.
Carry it on, and find some strong young man to help you put it up in the bin when you get to your seat.
Let him throw his back out instead of you. ”
Nora had wondered whether Dad’s words came from a sense of chivalry, or because he’d thrown his own back out a few months ago. Either way, obviously she could load her own luggage in the overhead bin.
But it was probably chivalry. Daniel would have loaded the bag in the bin for her, no question.
Daniel , July 13
“Daniel, do you think anything has jumped out of your bags in the ten minutes since you checked them over?”
Jeff was exaggerating. It had been at least fifteen minutes. And he was just making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. That was completely normal. Responsible, even.
“What? I’m just being thorough.”
“There’s thorough, and there’s obsessive-compulsive.” Jeff’s tone left no doubt where he placed Daniel on that scale.
He sat down, took a deep breath. Maybe his roommate was right. Everything was there, between the suitcase and the carry-on bag. And if—God forbid—anything wasn’t, he’d be at the hotel by noon, he could call the office and have them FedEx whatever was missing overnight.