around and see if you can find any holes in his security, just to be thorough. We’ll run a check on his office tomorrow, and assuming that comes up clean, we’ll spare him any embarrassment and this will remain one of life’s unsolved mysteries,” Michael concluded.
That seemed the best approach. And that’s why it paid to keep a level head and maintain perspective instead of buying into the client’s possibly distorted view, and also why Michael was willing to tolerate Koshi’s eccentricities and sometimes brusque attitude. Though his tingle still jangled under the surface.
********
It had been a long day, and Abe felt every day of his sixty-eight years. Sometimes the business could wear you down, what with the egos involved and the sheer volume of tasks that required his attention when things got jumping.
Mona poked her head in as she shut off the main lights in the outer offices. “You going to stick around a while, or want to walk me out?” she inquired.
Abe considered the proposition. Given all the excitement today, he figured he’d keep normal hours for once and get home at a reasonable hour; maybe play with his two fur-balls some and get to bed early.
“I think I’m going to call it a day too, Mona. I’m right behind you,” Abe told her.
They parted ways at the curb, he to catch a cab and Mona to ride the subway.
Abe lived in a six room walkup flat on the upper West Side a few blocks off Central Park, in a comfortable but not ostentatious building. He’d lived there with his wife Anne for twenty-eight years before she passed on, having lost a battle with spinal meningitis three years earlier. They’d tried for kids, but it was never meant to be, so they’d adopted the two Yorkies – the little rats, as Abe fondly dubbed them – and had a good, if all-too-short life together. His only regret was not spending more time with her while she was alive. At first, it was because he was making a name for himself in a tough, competitive business and building his client roster and reputation. Later, it was because the workload and obligations of operating a successful enterprise had taken over so much of his life.
If he’d known how quickly the years would flit by, and how precious their moments together were, he would have done things a lot differently, that was for sure. But nobody gave you the final pages to how your life would turn out, and those were the breaks – you had to play them as they came.
Still, at nearly four years after her passing, it was days like today he missed coming home to her, missed their partnership and the intimacy of a lifetime’s history together, even if it just amounted to sitting and having a quiet dinner at home with ‘the kids’ and opening a bottle of decent Chianti. Abe had lost his soul-mate and, from that point on, his life would be filled with books and work – he had no appetite for anyone but Anne, and now she was gone, he would remain one of the genteel aged widowers who acknowledged one another as they walked their various pooches around the block every morning and evening. He told himself it wasn’t so bad.
Mostly.
The cab pulled up to his building. He paid and got out. Taxis were one of the few luxuries he allowed himself; he really wasn’t much of a people-person, preferring books to flesh and blood, and the subways made his skin crawl. Ever since he’d made some real money, cabs were one of his dizzy extravagances – he rationalized that he could get work done on the way to and from his office if he wasn’t on the train, so it was really an investment in his career.
When he opened his front door the two dogs, Timmy and Congo, came running across the hardwood floor, excited that Daddy was home. This was one of Abe’s favorite moments, when the two little bundles of unconditional love joyously greeted him as though he was the center of the universe. He’d always given Anne a razzing about the dogs, mocking their small size and
That seemed the best approach. And that’s why it paid to keep a level head and maintain perspective instead of buying into the client’s possibly distorted view, and also why Michael was willing to tolerate Koshi’s eccentricities and sometimes brusque attitude. Though his tingle still jangled under the surface.
********
It had been a long day, and Abe felt every day of his sixty-eight years. Sometimes the business could wear you down, what with the egos involved and the sheer volume of tasks that required his attention when things got jumping.
Mona poked her head in as she shut off the main lights in the outer offices. “You going to stick around a while, or want to walk me out?” she inquired.
Abe considered the proposition. Given all the excitement today, he figured he’d keep normal hours for once and get home at a reasonable hour; maybe play with his two fur-balls some and get to bed early.
“I think I’m going to call it a day too, Mona. I’m right behind you,” Abe told her.
They parted ways at the curb, he to catch a cab and Mona to ride the subway.
Abe lived in a six room walkup flat on the upper West Side a few blocks off Central Park, in a comfortable but not ostentatious building. He’d lived there with his wife Anne for twenty-eight years before she passed on, having lost a battle with spinal meningitis three years earlier. They’d tried for kids, but it was never meant to be, so they’d adopted the two Yorkies – the little rats, as Abe fondly dubbed them – and had a good, if all-too-short life together. His only regret was not spending more time with her while she was alive. At first, it was because he was making a name for himself in a tough, competitive business and building his client roster and reputation. Later, it was because the workload and obligations of operating a successful enterprise had taken over so much of his life.
If he’d known how quickly the years would flit by, and how precious their moments together were, he would have done things a lot differently, that was for sure. But nobody gave you the final pages to how your life would turn out, and those were the breaks – you had to play them as they came.
Still, at nearly four years after her passing, it was days like today he missed coming home to her, missed their partnership and the intimacy of a lifetime’s history together, even if it just amounted to sitting and having a quiet dinner at home with ‘the kids’ and opening a bottle of decent Chianti. Abe had lost his soul-mate and, from that point on, his life would be filled with books and work – he had no appetite for anyone but Anne, and now she was gone, he would remain one of the genteel aged widowers who acknowledged one another as they walked their various pooches around the block every morning and evening. He told himself it wasn’t so bad.
Mostly.
The cab pulled up to his building. He paid and got out. Taxis were one of the few luxuries he allowed himself; he really wasn’t much of a people-person, preferring books to flesh and blood, and the subways made his skin crawl. Ever since he’d made some real money, cabs were one of his dizzy extravagances – he rationalized that he could get work done on the way to and from his office if he wasn’t on the train, so it was really an investment in his career.
When he opened his front door the two dogs, Timmy and Congo, came running across the hardwood floor, excited that Daddy was home. This was one of Abe’s favorite moments, when the two little bundles of unconditional love joyously greeted him as though he was the center of the universe. He’d always given Anne a razzing about the dogs, mocking their small size and
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