Angel Falling Softly - By Eugene Woodbury Page 0,4
home that truly gnawed at her. Not being out in the garage, or at the computer, or mowing the lawn. Just not being around.
Worse was the pedestal. How did her brother Carl put it? “Sooner or later they stop admiring you and start looking up your skirt.” She dreaded the day that Laura hit puberty full on. David would be done as bishop in two years, and then the pressure would be off. With luck they could escape all those idiotic arguments between parents and their teenagers that David was always being called on to mediate.
Such as another piercing, two in each ear like Kathy Reid. Laura had brought up the subject twice already. But she couldn’t. Not while David was bishop. Not while any other kid in the ward could turn to the bishop’s child, her child, and make her the example.
Once he was released as bishop, Laura could turn her lobes into sieves—that’d be fine with Rachel.
She pulled out of the parking garage and drove down from the University of Utah campus. The mountains rose up behind the hills in the east. To the west, the bright city slowly hid itself behind a green curtain of trees.
Chapter 6
Look before you leap
The secretary returned to the conference room promptly at twelve-thirty. As they rode the elevator to the penthouse suite, Milada said, “I take it the invitation was Edward’s idea?” While Karen stammered for an answer, Milada continued, “No matter. I appreciate the thought.”
The city looked deceptively cool through the tinted windows, but Milada asked the waiter to seat them away from the wall of plate glass.
Milada said, “What do you recommend, Karen?”
“I usually get—” She didn’t seem too sure about what she usually got. “I usually get the chef’s salad.”
Milada said to the waiter, “Two chef’s salads.”
The waiter retrieved the menus and left. Karen said under her breath, “To be honest, I don’t eat here that often.” She quickly added, “But the chef’s salad really is good.”
Milada smiled. She appreciated that the girl was not good at lying and knew it. “Tell me, Karen, are you married?”
Karen shook her head. “Engaged. Well, almost.”
Milada took a sip of water. “An employee at the firm?”
“Tom Wilkins.” She brightened saying his name. “He’s an accountant with Smith Barney. We met at the Salt Lake AICPA conference last fall.”
“Where do you live?”
“I share an apartment with Cindy—at the front desk. Tom’s building a house in Draper up on the bench. It’s got a great view of the valley, but it’s a little far from things, you know? At least it’s not as bad as commuting from Lehi or American Fork. Draper’s the only place on the east side that’s affordable these days.”
“Where would you prefer to live?”
“Sandy would be nice, or Granite. But you’ve got to be totally rich to live there.” Karen reflected for a moment. “It’s going to be a real nice house, Tom’s.”
Milada put on her sunglasses and turned toward the windows. “Where is Draper from here?”
“You can’t really see it because of the haze. It’s due south, right before Point of the Mountain.”
“And Sandy?”
Karen pointed off to the left. “Right there, where you can see the entrance to Little Cottonwood Canyon. That’s actually Granite. Sandy is west a bit.”
The waiter came with their salads. Milada straightened her chair and unfolded the napkin in her lap. She selected a fork and inspected it briefly. “Karen, is there a real estate firm that Loveridge employs on a regular basis?”
Karen thought for a minute. “Mr. Christensen uses Valley Real Estate Management.”
“When we have finished lunch, would you get them on the phone for me?”
Karen cheerfully said that she would.
After lunch Milada found the missing SEC filings on the table next to her laptop. Better late than never. She got out her cell phone and called Kammy. Some conversations she preferred not to make over company lines.
“What’s up, Milly?”
From the background noise, Milada guessed her sister was at the student union. “Where are you staying?”
“The Crocker Science House. It’s a dorm for post-docs. Why?”
Milada frowned. She lowered her voice to a few decibels above a whisper. “Where in the world do you keep blood in a dorm room?”
“Gee, Milly, a medical college. Where could I get my hands on whole blood? Hmm, let me think that one over and get back to you.”
“I was only asking. How was the seminar?”
“Not bad. I’ve got rounds, so don’t go penciling me in for dinner or anything.”