father had just thrown the papers up in the air and said the hell with it all. Michael started by opening the file cabinets to check them out. They were either empty or stuffed with stacks of paper with no discernible order to them. Michael found a notebook and made a list of to do's in the office itself and then he came up with a potential filing system idea: Accounts Payable organized by Month, Suppliers, Purchase orders, Inventory Information, Human Resources Files, Payroll, and many more. He was starting to feel good, now that he had a system, he knew he could start to get the place organized and frankly, it was nice to feel needed here at Malone’s.
He knew he shouldn’t be surprised but he hadn’t heard anything from his office in New York yet and it made him feel certain the end was near. He had left a message for Cindy, his assistant, but had received no response. Cindy usually called back minutes after he left a message. But he couldn’t let himself think of that and what it all meant now.
Four hours had passed before he knew it, and he felt like he had began to make somewhat of a dent. Things were now organized in neat piles on the large table against the wall at the far end of the office. He had stacks of all of the employee and human resources information pretty much settled, as well as supplier information, and of course, a few other miscellaneous items. He was so focused on the task at hand that at first, he didn’t even notice his mother come into the room.
“So, I see Annie has you knee deep in your father’s files?” Marty’s voice startled him and he looked up from the piles.
“Yeah, I don’t really know what all of it means yet, just trying to get it organized today and probably tomorrow, and then I’ll tackle it all — bills, and inventory, and whatever else you need.” He looked at her and he felt good. He felt appreciated and like he was contributing. His mother's expression seemed to relax.
“Well, you must have worked up an appetite, why don’t you follow me downstairs and I’ll fix us up something to eat,” she said and started heading for the door. Michael followed her through the long hall and down the stairs. She took him through the cheese market and waved to a beautiful young lady manning the counter.
“Margaret, good to see you, dear!”
She led Michael to the fish market and headed to the counter.
“Jonah, get the lobster I set aside out for me, ok?”
“Sure thing, Mom. Oh, and can you make me one too?” Jonah asked. “I break in thirty minutes.”
Marty replied with only a nod and a smile, as her youngest son handed her the package.
“So, what do you say Michael? Follow me out to the back?”
“To the parking lot?” asked Michael, confused.
“Well, eventually yes, but I mean out back to the storeroom first, so I can make us some sandwiches,” she said in an even tone.
Michael could tell something was weighing on her, she wore it on her face. They walked to the storage room, which had refrigerators; freezers, shelving, some counter space, and stairs that led to the basement, which Michael guessed housed more storage. It all looked really professional and high-end. His mother grabbed some rolls from one of the refrigerators and began prepping a simple lobster roll. She always had a way of making it with just a tiny bit of butter that was unlike any others he had ever had. Michael had been to tons of fancy places in New York and none of them compared, and, of course he couldn’t think of a better one in Maine, either.
Everyone else in the area seemed to go a bit overboard with mayonnaise, well, except for Shaw’s Lobster Shack, of course. Michael ventured that his mother’s “Lobsta Rolls” rivaled even theirs … they might even be better. She handed Michael a roll and then headed back to the fridge. She placed an extra roll in it for Jonah and grabbed two sodas.
“You still a fan of ginger ale?” she asked.
“Of course,” Michael responded
He knew he shouldn’t be surprised but he hadn’t heard anything from his office in New York yet and it made him feel certain the end was near. He had left a message for Cindy, his assistant, but had received no response. Cindy usually called back minutes after he left a message. But he couldn’t let himself think of that and what it all meant now.
Four hours had passed before he knew it, and he felt like he had began to make somewhat of a dent. Things were now organized in neat piles on the large table against the wall at the far end of the office. He had stacks of all of the employee and human resources information pretty much settled, as well as supplier information, and of course, a few other miscellaneous items. He was so focused on the task at hand that at first, he didn’t even notice his mother come into the room.
“So, I see Annie has you knee deep in your father’s files?” Marty’s voice startled him and he looked up from the piles.
“Yeah, I don’t really know what all of it means yet, just trying to get it organized today and probably tomorrow, and then I’ll tackle it all — bills, and inventory, and whatever else you need.” He looked at her and he felt good. He felt appreciated and like he was contributing. His mother's expression seemed to relax.
“Well, you must have worked up an appetite, why don’t you follow me downstairs and I’ll fix us up something to eat,” she said and started heading for the door. Michael followed her through the long hall and down the stairs. She took him through the cheese market and waved to a beautiful young lady manning the counter.
“Margaret, good to see you, dear!”
She led Michael to the fish market and headed to the counter.
“Jonah, get the lobster I set aside out for me, ok?”
“Sure thing, Mom. Oh, and can you make me one too?” Jonah asked. “I break in thirty minutes.”
Marty replied with only a nod and a smile, as her youngest son handed her the package.
“So, what do you say Michael? Follow me out to the back?”
“To the parking lot?” asked Michael, confused.
“Well, eventually yes, but I mean out back to the storeroom first, so I can make us some sandwiches,” she said in an even tone.
Michael could tell something was weighing on her, she wore it on her face. They walked to the storage room, which had refrigerators; freezers, shelving, some counter space, and stairs that led to the basement, which Michael guessed housed more storage. It all looked really professional and high-end. His mother grabbed some rolls from one of the refrigerators and began prepping a simple lobster roll. She always had a way of making it with just a tiny bit of butter that was unlike any others he had ever had. Michael had been to tons of fancy places in New York and none of them compared, and, of course he couldn’t think of a better one in Maine, either.
Everyone else in the area seemed to go a bit overboard with mayonnaise, well, except for Shaw’s Lobster Shack, of course. Michael ventured that his mother’s “Lobsta Rolls” rivaled even theirs … they might even be better. She handed Michael a roll and then headed back to the fridge. She placed an extra roll in it for Jonah and grabbed two sodas.
“You still a fan of ginger ale?” she asked.
“Of course,” Michael responded
Similar Books
