Page 50 of Backwater Justice
Kat was trying to place the young man’s accent. “Michigan?”
“Very good!” Benjamin replied.
“After all the years of being on the road, I have come across dozens upon dozens of accents. I can’t even count how many Southern accents there are,” Kat replied.
Benjamin walked the women through an area with several cubicles. There were about a dozen people working on their computers or talking on their phone headsets. Benjamin whispered over their heads. “New people. Kat and Isabelle.” Those who weren’t on the phone said “hello,” or “welcome,” while the others waved.
Isabelle noted that everyone had a pleasant expression on their face. The air smelled fresh, and the place was well-lit without bright, blinding overhead fixtures. It was a physically comfortable environment, and judging by Robert’s attitude, it was an emotionally comfortable environment.
A huffing and puffing Dickie scampered toward them. “Hello. Sorry. I was dealing with some stuff. You must be Kat and Isabelle? I’m Dickie Morton.”
“Hi. I’m Isabelle.” She held out her hand. He wiped his on his trousers before he shook it.
“Kat.” She took her turn.So people do get sweaty around here.
“Where’s Oliver?” Dickie asked.
“He got a little flushed. Sugar thing,” Benjamin replied. “He should be here momentarily.”
“I understand you will be reporting to me,” Dickie said pleasantly to Kat. No one would guess his intestines were in a knot. He had enough trouble already. Now he had a new person he had to train and keep an eye on.Man, he wished his palms would stop sweating.
“You okay, Dickie?” Benjamin couldn’t help noticing the discomfort his employee was experiencing.
“Yeah. Got a little winded coming down the hall. I should work out more often, but you know how it goes. Always something else comes up and gets in the way.” He was starting to breathe normally. “Follow me. I’ll show you to your desk. It’s right around the corner.” They entered a large room with whiteboards on each wall. A cluster of desks sat in the middle. Each desk had a swivel chair, so anyone could see any of the boards if they shifted in that direction. Three men and a woman were seated and typing information into a central database.
“This is what we call ‘The Pit.’ Kind of a company joke.” Then he turned to his employees. “Listen up! This is Kat. She’s our swing-shift, on-call driver. When you get a minute, introduce yourselves.” Benjamin jerked his head toward a desk on one of the side walls in front of a frosted sheet of glass. “This is your home away from home.” He pulled out the comfortable swivel chair. “I mean, it’s your home away from your home away from home.”
Kat sat and spun around. “Nice. I’d say this is almost as comfortable as my rig.” She chuckled.
Dickie spotted Oliver walking in their direction. “There’s Oliver.”
“Sorry about that. Blood sugar.” That was his story, and he was sticking to it.
“You alright?” Benjamin asked.
Oliver furrowed his brow. “Of course. Just needed a little orange juice. Everybody getting the gist of the place?”
“Yes. It’s a beautiful office space,” Isabelle remarked.
“Thanks. Believe it or not, my daughter Addie is going to Pratt next semester. This was the layout she submitted with her application.”
“Wow. You must be very proud,” Isabelle said, knowing how talented the young woman must be in order to get accepted to a renowned school of design.
“Yes, we are. But we’re going to miss her. She’ll be on the other side of the country.”
Oliver was anxious to get this welcome wagon over and done with. “Let’s show Kat the apartment. The stairs are right outside. Then we can bring Isabelle over to the Cascade section.”
“Lead the way,” Benjamin instructed.
Dickie didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Kat was going to report to him, but this seemed to be Oliver’s show. He looked at his boss. Oliver gave him a wide-eyed look and tilted his head in the direction of the stairs.
“Follow me,” Dickie instructed the group. A door led from the corner of the room to a flight of stairs. There were two doors at the top of the landing. One led to an outside entrance, the other to a fifteen-hundred-square-foot apartment.
“Wow. This is where I’ll be living?” Kat was stunned. “This is nicer than any place I’ve ever stayed.” Of course she was lying, but they didn’t have to know that. Travel accommodations with Annie or Myra were usually upscale. Not necessarily over-the-top, but rarely was there reason to complain about lack of service or a comfortable bed.
“It’s two bedrooms. We use it for out-of-town clients.”
“Will I be in the way?” Kat asked.