It was a relief to sit at his desk. One thing about computer work, he
thought. You can't do it and do anything else at the same time.
Auditors were coming from national headquarters, and the trial balance
was off by $185,000. Dan was hoping to find the problem before they
arrived. It was a lot of money. Oliver wondered if it had been stolen.
Was there a First Fundamentalist embezzler? He concentrated until lunch
time, leaving his office only once. Suzanne drove out at noon, and he
left five minutes later. He wasn't sure he could take seeing her again
that day.
He drove into Portland and had lunch at Becky's, glad to be back. He
stared at the booth where he first saw Francesca. It occurred to him
that he hadn't checked on his brokerage account for months. He ate the
last of his homefries and slid the plate across the counter.
"Had enough?" The waitress paused.
"No, but. . ."
"We've got good pie, today. Dutch apple? Banana cream?"
"Can't help myself," he said. "Dutch apple."
"Warm that up," she said, stretching behind her for a coffee pot and
filling his cup with one motion. "You want that pie heated?"
"Sure." He added creamer to the coffee, relaxed, and looked at a large
photograph hanging on the wall behind the counter.
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