Finder's Fee (2 page)

“Oh, you're here,” a familiar voice said.

“I'm that obvious, am I?” Judith glanced up to see Terri Penn standing just three feet away.

“You know what I mean.”

Judith did. Terri stood the same five-foot-eight as she, but the similarities ended there. Where Judith moved through life with a reserved confidence, Terri buzzed from event to task to conversation to problem to whatever else might arise. At forty-eight, the personal assistant reminded Judith of a teenage girl still full of unbounded energy. Still, Judith didn't see it as a fault. Terri's administrative skills were legendary. No one could want or find someone as talented as she. Her brown hair bounced an inch-and-a-half above her rounded shoulders. As conservative in dress as in language, Terri wore a plain white blouse, black skirt, and bone pumps. The blouse hung open only one button. No one ever used the word
risqué
to describe her.

“I want to bring you up to date.”

“You think I'm out of date? And I try to be so hip … or is it cool?”

“In my book, you are forever cool.”

“You're just saying that because I sign your paycheck.”

“That's so very true.” Terri smiled with innocence for a second then allowed the grin to erode. “Marlin called first thing this morning. He sounded irritated.”

“Terri you know to never begin my day with ‘Marlin called.' And he always sounds irritated. It's a gene on his Y chromosome.”

The routine played the same every morning. Judith would arrive at 9:10 with a cup of vanilla latte, extra shot in one hand, and her gray leather briefcase in the other. Terri would be waiting in the lobby as if the boss couldn't find her own way without an escort. As they moved from the elevator, Judith would say, “Good morning,” and then plow through Terri's office and into her own.

Today followed course.

“The ad agency sent the preliminary videos over as you asked, but they seemed very uncomfortable. They offered to come over and make a presentation.”

Judith nodded. “I expected that. They're trying to win our business and want to be present when I view the mock-ups so they can try and sell me.”

“They don't know you very well, do they?”

No one knows me very well.
“No, they don't. There's nothing worse than sitting in some ad agency's office or having them invade our conference room only to have them show a commercial then explain what we just saw.”

“I told them you were too busy for a meeting right away, but that you were eager to see their concepts. They gave in.”

Judith had made certain that Terri's office stood as a showpiece. After all, decorating was what Find, Inc., was all about. Since visitors saw Terri's office first — the “portal” she called it — Judith felt it had to be spectacular. It was. More than one CEO who had come to pay a visit assumed the assistant's office with its blue suede walls, handcrafted maple furniture, frosted glass-topped desk, deep-pile cobalt rug, artwork on the walls, and a stylish, iron sculpture of a giraffe in the corner was where Judith commanded her international home decorating enterprise. They were wrong.

“They didn't have a choice.” Judith opened one of the two doors to her office and plunged in, Terri one step behind.

“No, ma'am, they certainly didn't.”

Terri's office had a touch of the contemporary to it. Judith's did not. The floor was a blend of hard maple slats laid in a herringbone fashion, bordered by twelve-inch wide ebony. Mahogany panels lined the walls and paintings of classic mansions hung at eye level. A large mahogany desk, wide and deep, rested eight feet from the exterior wall. A matching bureau sat next to the wall, a laptop computer rested patiently, waiting for attention. A green-veined marble lined fireplace gave the large space a homey feel. A marble topped, curved wet bar, used only at gatherings with key suppliers and CEOs of retail outlets, marked off the third corner of the room. The only two windows, both less than five feet wide but reaching from floor to ceiling, remained covered by thick drapes holding insistent daylight at bay. Judith liked to work in a dim room.

Judith approached her desk and set her briefcase on the surface. After popping the latch, she removed a leather clutch purse, a handheld computer, her favorite fountain pen — a gift from her husband — and a short stack of folders. Once empty, she moved the briefcase to the floor.

“Cue it up, Terri. Let's see what the creative minds of Bonner, Taylor, and Lennox have for us.”

Terri moved to the seating area at the right of the office. Two long, leather sofas and two reading chairs populated the sitting area. A flat-screen television rested on a tall, narrow rosewood table. A sleek DVD player opened its drawer at Terri's touch.

Judith glanced over at her desk. Four “While You Were Out” slips waited her attention. Three padded envelopes rested to the right of the desk. Two had been opened, one remained sealed. The only mail Terri ever left unopened were envelopes marked private.

“Ready,” Terri said.

Judith walked to the sitting area and stood just behind the glass-and-iron coffee table. She would be sitting all day, so she appreciated the opportunity to remain on her feet.

Terri punched play.

A woman dressed in an unbuttoned brown-and-white checkered shirt over a thick white T-shirt, jeans, and cloth garden gloves appeared on the screen.

“Is that supposed to be you?” Terri frowned. “It looks like she's wearing a wig.”

The woman had shoulder length black hair, high cheekbones, and straight white teeth — a pretty good representation of Judith. Of course, the ad firm had hired an actress or pulled one of their employees in as a stand-in. Not unusual in a proof-of-concept video. If she gave approval, it would be Judith in front of the camera lens.

“At least they used someone younger than me. I don't think I could stand seeing someone older hocking our product.”

“You're only forty-five,” Terri said.

Yeah
,
only.
“I just feel seventy.”

“You work too hard.”

It was true. She did work too hard.

“The garden,” the actress said, “is more than flowers in our backyard — it's a place of refuge.”

“Refuge?” Judith said.

The actress continued. Terri had been right. Clearly, she was wearing a wig — a cheap wig. “I love the time I spend communing with the plants that make my garden an outdoor home. That's why I'm so happy to introduce our new classic line of outdoor furniture — ”

Judith stopped listening. “Turn it off.”

“Don't like it?”

“Do you?” Judith asked.

Terri shook her head. “Not in the least. Exactly what is new classic furniture? Isn't that an oxymoron?”

“It's some kind of moron.”

She stepped back to the desk but not before hearing, “I'm Judith Find — Find everything you need at Judith Find's.”

“Send it back, Terri. It stinks. Tell them I'll call later this week. Let them stew awhile.”

Terri retrieved the DVD. “Will do. Anything else?”

“Not now. I have plenty of work to do. Please shut the door on the way out.” She sipped from the coffee.

“Oh.” Terri pulled up short of the door. “Marlin called and would like some time this morning.”

A hot coal dropped in Judith's stomach. Marlin Find was her stepson and her biggest critic. “I'll think about it.”

“And if he should call again?”

“Tell him you passed on the information and that I haven't got back to you yet.”

“Got it.” Terri started to exit. “One last thing: could I leave a little early today? There's a baby shower at my church this evening and I said I'd swing by and help decorate if I could.”

“I don't see why not.” Judith knew the next comment before Terri uttered it.

“How about going with me? I'll introduce you to some of my church friends.”

Judith smiled. “Thanks, Terri, but no.” Her assistant had been trying to get her to attend church for the last year. She always refused. Business and faith never seemed like a good mix to Judith.

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind. We have a woman who makes the world's best deviled eggs.”

“They allow devil eggs in your church?”

Terri grinned. “Cute. I'll have to remember that.”

Judith thought she heard a phone ring.

H
utch's Diner sat at the north end of the Ontario Mills Mall near Fourth Street. The mall complex was one of the Chamber of Commerce's talking points. One point seven million square feet under a single roof provided a home for two hundred retailers that saw over twenty million visitors each year. Judith knew the stats because one of Find, Inc.'s stores took up its share of the complex.

Major chain restaurants dotted the perimeter of the parking lot. Only one had the distinction of being unique: Hutch's. Like the other eateries, Hutch's served patrons from the mall. Here a hungry patron could buy a double cheeseburger for just a little over twice what she would pay elsewhere. Decorated like a Southern roadside café, the environment drew as many people as the food.

Waitresses dressed like carhops from the forties and fifties. They served up heart-damaging food and did so with attitude.

Judith pulled her silver Lexus SC convertible into the first open parking stall she found, exited, and walked into the restaurant. It took several steps before she realized that she moved with her head down and eyes fixed on the concrete
walk. She forced her head and eyes up, reached for the door, and walked into the unknown.

Inside, the Andrews Sisters were singing something about a bugle boy in the army. The aroma of french fries, burgers, and grilled-cheese sandwiches attacked her nostrils. Noises of people about the business of visiting with friends and coworkers reflected off the tile floor and Formica table-tops. The decor was a mix of postwar simplicity and midcentury modern. Judith decided that the theme was mixed but it worked well.

Just inside the door stood a podium with a sign that read:
PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED
.

Judith waited, but her eyes worked the room, searching for whomever it was that she was supposed to meet. Should she allow herself to be seated? What if he had already arrived and the hostess seated her on the wrong side of the restaurant?

Her heart fluttered as she studied the customers. A few looked her way but immediately returned their attention to their companions. None made eye contact; none motioned to her.

“Just one, ma'am?”

A young woman, maybe twenty-two, stepped to the podium and removed a menu. Judith hated the question, “Just one?” It implied that something was missing if you dined alone. She had been just one for half a decade now, but had yet to adjust to the idea.

“I'm meeting someone here.”

The hostess reached for another menu. “Is he here yet? Or is it a she?”

Judith had to think for a moment. What had the caller said? “A man will meet you …”

“A gentleman. We haven't met yet so I don't know what he looks like.”

“Would you prefer to wait or should I seat you?”

How should I know? The caller didn't say.
“Go ahead and seat me. Do you have anything … a little more private?”

“No, ma'am. What you see is what you get.”

“I understand.”
I suppose a clandestine meeting is best held in a public place.

The hostess pivoted and marched to the back of the restaurant, seating Judith in a corner booth with a view to the chugging traffic of Fourth Street. Menus were placed. “Enjoy your lunch.” She started to leave when Judith stopped her. She remembered something.

“I need to order.”

“Before your party arrives?”

“Yes. I'm … on a tight schedule today.”

“I'll get your waitress.”

Judith thanked her and wriggled farther into the booth until she reached the best level of comfort she could hope for. She set her handbag on the table and tried to calm herself.

In the time from her arrival at her office until she left to make her way to Hutch's, Judith pretended to work but her mind rehashed the phone call countless times. In an effort to assume some control of the situation she exited her office, which she now assumed was infested with electronic listening devices, and prepared to quiz Terri. She stopped short realizing that anyone who could bug her office could bug Terri's as well.

“Marlin called again,” Terri began. “I put him off best I could but he seemed really irritated — ”

“Walk with me.” Judith didn't wait for an answer. She marched through the door, into the wide hall by the elevators.

“Where are we going?”

“The bathroom.”

It took a second for Terri to respond. “Is something wrong with yours? Should I call a plumber?” Judith had a private restroom as did Terri. Other employees on this floor shared a restroom. Executives had an executive toilet to call their own.

“Nothing's wrong with my bathroom.”

“Then why — ”

“Terri. Shut up.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Fifteen steps later, Judith pushed through the door into a wide room filled with partitioned stalls, sinks, and white floor tile.

Judith pushed open each stall door and peered inside. Satisfied that theirs were the only ears in the room, she faced Terri.

“There were three packages on my desk this morning, one was marked ‘private.' Where did that come from?”

Nonplussed, Terri replied, “I don't know. It didn't have a return address.”

“I know that. What I mean is: who delivered it?”

“UPS, I assume. Is there something wrong?”

Judith ignored the question. “The UPS man brought all three packages to you?”

“No. Not really. I ran late this morning.” She looked as if she were confessing a crime. Terri usually arrived before eight and spent the hour straightening Judith's desk, laying out needed files, and fielding calls from early risers and East Coast associates. “When I got here, the packages were on my desk. The delivery guy has left stuff on my desk before when I've been gone so it didn't strike me as odd.”