room. Sidney inwardly sighed and handed the TV remote to Paul Brophy, a
young New York-based partner. Dammit, Jason, I hope you really have
this new job locked up because it looks like we’re really going to need
it, honey.
The door to the conference room opened and a secretary poked her head
in. “Ms. Archer, I hate to interrupt, but is there a problem with your
plane tickets?”
Sidney looked puzzled. “Not that I know of, Jan, why?”
“Well, someone from the airline is on the phone for you.”
Sidney opened her briefcase, pulled out her shuttle tickets and quickly
perused them. She looked back at Jan. “It’s a shuttle ticket, so it’s
an open return. Why would the airline be calling me about that?”
“Can we get on with the meeting?” Gamble bellowed.
Jan cleared her throat, looked anxiously at Nathan Gamble and continued
speaking to Sidney. “Well, whoever it is wants to talk to you. Maybe
they had to cancel the shuttle for the rest of today. It’s been snowing
for the last three hours.”
Sidney picked up another device and hit a button. The automatic blinds
covering the wall of windows slowly slid back.
“Christ!” Sidney gasped in dismay. She watched the fat snowflakes
pouring down. They were so thick she couldn’t see the building across
the street.
Paul Brophy looked at her. “The firm still has that condo up on Park,
Sid, if you need to stay over.” He paused. “Maybe we could grab some
dinner.” His eyes were quietly hopeful.
Sidney sat down wearily without looking at him. “I can’t.” She was
about to say that Jason was out of town but quickly caught herself.
Sidney thought rapidly. Gamble was obviously not going to let this one
go. She could call home, confirm what she already knew: that Jason
wasn’t there. They could all go out to dinner and she could slip away
and start calling around L.A., starting with the of-rices of Allege
raPort. They could patch Jason through, he could satisfy Gamble’s
curiosity, and with a little luck she and her husband could escape with
little more than a bruised ego and the beginnings on an ulcer. And if
the airports were closed, she could take the last Metroliner train home.
She swiftly calculated travel times. She would have to call the day
care. Karen could take Amy home with her. Worse-case scenario, Amy
could do a sleep-over at Karen’s. This logistical nightmare only
reinforced Sidney’s desires for a simpler existence.
“Ms. Archer, do you want to take the call?”
Sidney snapped out of her musings. “I’m sorry, Jan, just put it through
in here. And Jan, see if you can get me on the last Metro-liner, just
in case La Guardia’s closed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jan closed the door. In another moment a red light
blinked on the telephone perched on the credenza. Sidney picked it up.
Paul Brophy ejected the video and the TV came back on, voices from the
screen filling the room. He quickly hit the mute button on the remote
and the room was once again silent.
Sidney cradled the phone against her ear.
“This is Sidney Archer. Can I help you?”
The woman’s voice on the other end was a little hesitant, but oddly
soothing. “My name is Linda Freeman. I’m with Western Airlines, Ms.
Archer. Your office in Washington gave me this number.”
“Western? There must be a mistake. I’m ticketed on USAir. On the New
York to D.C. shuttle.” Sidney shook her head. A stupid mistake. She
had enough on her plate right now.
“Ms. Archer, I need you to confirm that you’re the spouse of Jason w.
Archer, residing at 611 Morgan Lane, Jefferson County, Virginia.”
Sidney’s tone betrayed her confusion; however, her answer was automatic.
“Yes.” As soon as the word passed her lips, Sidney’s entire body froze.
“Oh, my God!” Paul Brophy’s voice cut through the room.
Sidney whirled around to look at him. All eyes were staring at the TV.
Sidney turned slowly toward it. She didn’t notice the words “Special
News Report” flashing across the top of the screen, or the
hearing-impaired close-captioned subtitles flowing across the bottom
while the news correspondent recounted the tragic story. Her eyes were