“Yeah.”
The waiter showed up with their main course, and they both began to eat. The dinner was delicious and the company charming. As the conversation steered to less weighty topics, John began to recoup a feeling of normalcy.
Clearly he had needed a break from thinking about or discussing his case, and Sylvia effectively entertained him with other topics, including an annual town festival that she was helping to coordinate the following month. Both of them were surprised to realize that two hours had passed while they ate and chatted.
Busboys were putting the clean tablecloths onto the tables around them for the next day, and the bartender was drying and reshelving the last few glasses, as their server approached the table one last time.
“Anything else you two need tonight?” she asked with a practiced smile.
“No thanks. We’re just about to leave,” John replied.
As they stood up, Sylvia asked him for his phone number so she could contact him in the morning about meeting with her brother. John explained that he was temporarily staying at the Redwood Lodge. He gave her his cell phone number and thanked her for the enjoyable evening. She smiled, shook his hand, and promised to call him.
After she left, John dropped a couple of twenties on top of the bill, picked up his envelope, and headed back to his motel. The cool night air made him feel refreshed and alive again. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and turned the ringer on. Wouldn’t want to miss her call.
A full stomach and a diversion from his problems had been great medicine. John slept soundly that night and did not awaken until the phone rang at nine-fifteen the next morning.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Hello?” John said after flipping his phone open. He struggled to prop himself up in bed and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger.
“John?”
“Hello?”
“This is Sylvia. Are you awake?” she asked.
“I am now,” John replied and, glancing at the clock beside the bed, hastily added, “I can’t believe I slept this long!”
“Sorry to wake you up, but I wanted to see if you could drop by in about an hour. Jeff has a half hour break between two meetings, and he’s agreed to look over your case.”
“An hour? Yeah, that would be great. I’ll just get cleaned up and catch a cab. What’s the address?”
He grabbed a small pad of paper and pen and jotted down the address and suite number. “What’s your brother’s name again?” he asked.
“Jeff. Jeff Morgan. You’ll see his shingle hanging beside the entrance to the office. Suite 105. You can’t miss it. See you around ten-fifteen.”
“Okay. And Sylvia?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks. I mean it. This might be the break I’ve been looking for.”
“No problem,” she said lightly.
John got out of bed and glanced around the room. His clothes were thrown rather carelessly over the back of the chair. He shook them out, hung them on hangers, and hung the hangers on the towel rack in the bathroom, hoping the steam from his shower would help diminish the wrinkles.
Never imagining that he would need more than one dress shirt and slacks, he had only brought along a duffel bag with his shaving kit and some jeans and sweats. But this appointment was important, and he wanted to look his best.
Michelle was deeply engrossed in her latest book, Evolving to New Heights, when Steve got home that night. Startled by the sound of the garage door, she realized that time had escaped her and she hadn’t begun to prepare dinner. Even Max seemed oblivious to the hour and was still sleeping soundly in the overstuffed easy chair.
“Michelle, you home?” came Steve’s voice from the kitchen.
“In here,” she called back.
“Hi, babe,” Steve said with a kiss as he placed his Bible on the coffee table. “What’s for dinner?”
“Well, actually, I just spaced out reading this new book and lost track of time. How about soup and sandwiches? I could whip that up pretty quickly,” she replied hopefully.
“I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go out. I’ve been craving Chinese food all day,” Steve suggested.
“You and your Chinese food!” Michelle replied, putting her book on the end table. “I’ll feed Max, while you change clothes.”
Steve went upstairs. When he came back down he was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.
“Ready?” Michelle asked.
“Let’s go,” he replied, grabbing his keys from the coffee table.
Fifteen minutes later they were at the Panda Palace seated in a comfortable corner booth surrounded by bamboo wallpaper, reading their menus by the light of the round, paper lamp that hung overhead.
After ordering their dinners, Steve asked about Michelle’s mom’s plans. “Do you think she’ll stay out at your grandparents’ house until she hears from your dad?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Hopefully it won’t be too long. Tim’s still looking, and Mom’s started calling some of the hotels in the area.”
Steve nodded. Their conversation lagged as Michelle stared off into space. Steve assumed she was thinking about her parents. Meanwhile, his mind pondered all the new and exciting revelations he had been studying in his Bible. He yearned to talk to Michelle about them.
“I’ve been reading some great stuff this week,” he began tentatively.
“Really? Me, too. You should read this book I’m in the middle of. It explains how people move from one plain of evolutionary thinking to another through a succession of experiences and lives. I never really understood the theory of reincarnation until now. It makes a lot of sense when you study it.”
Steve didn’t know what to say. He was so new to his faith and to his study of the Bible that he really didn’t have an argument to give his wife, but deep inside his spirit was telling him that she was way out in left field.
“That’s interesting, honey,” was all he could think to say. His mind reeled as he realized how deeply Michelle was plunging into this New Age stuff.
“I wish you’d take the time to study all this,” Michelle said earnestly. “Maybe you could take an afternoon off and come to my class with me.”
“That’s impossible, Michelle. You know I can’t just take off early like that with the caseload we’ve got right now. Besides, maybe your teacher wouldn’t like having your husband there,” he added and then wished that he hadn’t.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Forget I said it.”
A tension filled the air as they sat quietly reading their menus. Steve could feel the rift that was developing in their relationship, and he wondered if Michelle sensed it, too. She seemed convinced she was on the path to ultimate truth, but Steve was certain he had discovered the one and only way.
The remainder of their dinner conversation was strained and focused on small talk. By the time they left to go home, an uncomfortable chasm of silence separated them. Michelle took her book upstairs and crawled into bed. Meanwhile, Steve picked up his Bible and poured his heart out to the Lord in prayer.
“Please, God. Help me know what to say when Michelle brings up all this stuff. We are drifting apart. Show me what to do.”
Michelle was packing her bags for the weekend. A getaway with Steve sounded so attractive three weeks ago. Now, with the tension that permeated their relationship, she almost dreaded spending two days alone with him. Her original plans of a romantic retreat dissolved, and rather than packing her honeymoon nighties, she threw old tee shirts and sweats into her suitcase.
Last, but not least, she carefully tucked her new book into the top pouch of the bag. Hopefully she’d be able to finish it while Steve was fishing. She usually sat pole-in-hand beside him, but this time she planned to sit nearby and read.
At their last session, Trevor urged the class to try to complete the book before their next meeting, when he hoped to teach them about past life regressions. Everyone in the group liked to tease her abou
t being the star pupil, but Trevor always rose to her defense indicating that she was just more growth-oriented than some of the others.
As she latched the suitcase shut, the doorbell rang. Glancing at the clock, she smiled. Monica was always so prompt.
She was out of breath as she reached the door. “Hey, there!” she said with a gasp.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” her friend asked.
“No, I was upstairs finishing packing when you rang the bell. I almost tripped over Max on the way down the stairs,” she explained, catching her breath. “Come on in.”
Monica followed her into the kitchen while Michelle gave her some directions about taking care of the cat while they were gone. As if sensing he was the topic of conversation, Max trotted up to them and began rubbing against Michelle’s leg.
“Hey, goofy. Monica’s here to learn about babysitting you while we’re gone,” she said, as if speaking to a child.
Max mewed in response and sat at Monica’s feet licking his paw and then rubbing his head with it.
“We’re going to have a blast, Max,” Monica added, playing along.
Michelle handed her a piece of paper listing Max’s needs. She started reciting them to Monica and then stopped herself. “I guess you could read this without my help.” She smiled.
“Just show me where the food is, and we’ll be fine!” Monica replied reassuringly. “I’ll be here tonight around seven o’clock and come back in the morning by eight. Anything I should know about tucking him into bed?” she teased.
“Don’t worry. Max will tell you everything you need to know,” Michelle replied with a grin. “Steve won’t be here for about two more hours. Do you want to stay for a cup of coffee?”
“That sounds great, but are you sure you’re all packed and ready? I don’t want to put a damper on your little getaway!”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Michelle said. “But yes, I’m sure that everything is packed and ready.”
She poured the coffee, and handed Monica a cup as they sat down at the kitchen table.
“Is everything okay?” Monica asked, seeming to pick up on her mood.
“I guess. Steve and I are just having some difficulties right now. It’s nothing serious. He just doesn’t understand about our class and the stuff I’m learning.”
Monica listened patiently. “It’s probably good you’re going away this weekend. Maybe everything will go back to normal once you get up to the cabin and have some time together.”
“I hope so. It just seems like we’re both going in different directions. Steve has got this Bible thing going, and I’m finding myself more and more interested in the more mystical side of spirituality.”
“I know what you’re saying, Michelle, but maybe Steve will eventually grow to see the bigger picture. Give him some time to explore. Maybe the Bible is part of his own evolution,” she said thoughtfully. “Wow, I’m starting to sound like Trevor!” she added with a giggle.
“You are,” Michelle agreed with a smile.
John looked into the mirror and began adjusting his tie. Although his face was creased from weeks of worry, the bags under his eyes had receded somewhat after last night’s rest. His stomach growled, and he smiled, relieved that his appetite had returned. He’d grab a muffin from the vending machine out in front before he caught the cab.
In his haste to get to the appointment with Jeff Morgan, he almost walked out without his envelope. Fortunately, it caught his eye as he stepped into his shoes. “Don’t want to leave without that,” he mumbled under his breath, retrieving the package and heading out the door.
He’d instructed the cabby to meet him by the lobby, and he had just enough time to buy his muffin and a cup of coffee before climbing into the backseat. Handing the driver the slip of paper with the address, they headed to the law office of Jeff Morgan.
In ten minutes they pulled up in front of a brick and glass building at the corner of First and Larkin. John paid the cabby and, grasping the envelope tightly in his hand, walked up the open-air stairway leading to a row of offices. Number plaques with arrows pointed him to Suite 105. The shingle beside the door read, “Jefferson T. Morgan, Attorney”. John sighed, smiled hopefully, and pushed open the door.
Sylvia was sitting at the front desk in a tweed suit. She looked up and welcomed him.
“Feeling better after a good night’s sleep?” she asked.
“Much. Thanks. And thanks again for setting up this appointment with your brother.”
“My pleasure. He’s almost finished with his nine-thirty appointment,” Sylvia said as she glanced at the clock. “Why don’t you just have a seat and make yourself comfortable for a few minutes.”
He sat in the leather chair beside the couch and picked up a Newsweek magazine from the glass end table.
“Would you like something to drink? Coffee maybe or some tea?” Sylvia asked.
“No, thanks. I’m fine. I had a cup of coffee on the way over in the cab,” he replied.
Flipping through the pages of the magazine, he was not able to concentrate on reading anything. As he set it down, the door from Mr. Morgan’s office to the reception area opened, and two men stepped out shaking hands and saying good-bye.
John rose to his feet. One of the men, a tall thin guy with wavy dark hair and a friendly smile looked toward him and said, “You must be John Ackerman.” He extended his hand to John, and they exchanged a firm handshake. “Jeff Morgan. My sister told me that you needed some advice.”
“I really appreciate you fitting me into your schedule like this. Your sister must be as persuasive as she is encouraging,” John replied with a smile.
The two men walked back into Jeff’s office. His large oak desk revealed a hodgepodge of file folders, with one small clearing in front of his chair. He gestured to the caramel-colored leather chair facing the desk, and John took a seat.
“So tell me a little about your case. Sylvia mentioned something about an embezzlement situation at your company. Mathers, Inc. I believe she said.”
“Yes. I’ve been with Mathers for over twenty years now. Competition at the management level has been getting pretty cutthroat lately with the parent company restructuring and forcing many upper level workers into early retirement.” John hesitated, groping for words. “I love my job, Mr. Morgan…”
“Call me Jeff.”
“Okay, Jeff. Anyway as I was saying, I love what I do. It challenges me and gives purpose to my life. I’m doing all I can to resist this early retirement push.”
“And?”
“And now I’m in this mess. Someone at Mathers has used my signature to authorize large cash withdrawals from the general fund. I really thought it would be no big deal to clear this all up, but now I’m in over my head.”
“Let’s see what you brought,” Jeff said, indicating the envelope on John’s lap.
His hand shaking, John handed him the envelope.
Jeff carefully slid the paperwork out and began flipping through it. He was silent as he read. John studied his face, looking for some glimmer of hope. After what seemed like an eternity, he looked up.
“Is this your signature?” he asked pointing.
“Yes and no. It looks like my signature, but I did not sign that document.”
“How about this one?”
“The same.”
“Did you ever sign for a cash withdrawal of this nature?” Jeff asked earnestly.
John Ackerman hesitated, looking down at the floor.
“Look, Mr. Ackerman,”
“John.”
“John. If you want my advice, you’ve got to level with me. Did you ever sign one of these authorizations?”
John sighed; his shoulders dropping as he looked down at his own clasped hands. “I did sign one awhile ago. My daughter was getting married, and I needed a temporary loan to cover some of the expenses, so I took an advance on my pay for the following month.”
“I see,” Jeff said sitting back in his
chair.
“But I didn’t draw any pay the next month. The company had a huge cushion in the account anyway. It was no loss to them, and it got me through a tight spot. Certainly I’m entitled to a little help like that from a company I’ve given so much of my time and life to.”
“We’re not talking about what you are entitled to, John. We’re talking about the law. What you did was illegal. Granted the company was not hurt in the process, but this is a form of embezzlement.” He paused to let his words sink in.
“But I didn’t sign any of the authorizations for withdrawals that you are looking at, and they are trying to nail me on all of them.”
“The problem we have here, John, is that even if you could prove these were not your signatures, any prosecutor worth his salt will find the one transaction you did sign and then your goose is cooked.”
“So what should I do?” John asked, desperation evident in his voice.
“Get yourself a good attorney and start praying. I’d also get my affairs in order, just in case.”
“In case?”
“It’s possible you could serve a prison term for this, John. The courts are becoming more and more aggressive with white-collar crimes. They may let you serve your time on weekends or in community service, but even if they do, it’s likely Mathers will cut the cord, so you’ll need to find another job. It’s not easy finding work when you are a felon.”
Jeff paused and looked at John. “Listen, I’m not trying to scare you. It’s possible they’ll find the real culprit here. But I wouldn’t be doing you any favors to soft pedal this. It’s better to be prepared for the worst and be relieved if it doesn’t happen.”
John dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his scalp, and trying to process what he was hearing. “Can you help me? I mean, will you take on my case? I really didn’t think I’d need an attorney because I knew I didn’t sign those papers, and I was sure the whole thing would be cleared up. But now I see that I’m going to need some really shrewd counsel if I have any hope of getting myself out of this mess.”
Out of a Dream (Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Page 15