It was Jason Pierce, one of the senior partners. We, we have a disaster. The Martinson case.
Kelsey can’t find the original signed contracts. Without them, we’re sunk. Trials in three days.
Margaret leaned back in her chair, hiding her smirk. Hmm, she said slowly. Those files are in the offsite archive.
Third storage row, blue folder with red tape, filed under client original business name from 2003. I told Kelsey that the first week she started, there was frantic murmuring on the other end. Jason came back on, voice urgent.
She didn’t know. Margaret, we’re in trouble. Could you come in, just for a day? Margaret looked at the clock, took a sip of her coffee, and let silence stretch before she answered.
I’m not sure I’m available. You see, I’ve been modernizing my own schedule. Margaret didn’t answer right away.
She let Jason’s desperate breathing echo through the phone. In the background, she could hear chaos. Voices raised.
Phones ringing off the hook, the muffled slam of a filing cabinet drawer. Margaret, please. Jason said again.
The CEO himself wants to speak to you. There was a shuffle, then another voice, a deep, smooth baritone that Margaret knew all too well. Margaret, said Daniel Whitford, CEO of Caldwell and Pierce.
I’ve heard there’s tension between you and our new operations director. Let me cut to the chase. We need you, urgently.
Margaret leaned back in her armchair. Well, Daniel, I seem to recall that when I was told I was outdated, no one from the top floor disagreed. That was a mistake, he said quickly.
Ashley was wrong to let you go. But right now, our biggest client is threatening to walk because those contracts are missing. You’re the only one who knows our filing systems well enough to track them down.
Margaret swirled her coffee. You mean the system I designed, the one I told Ashley she should learn before she pushed me out? A pause, then a sigh. Yes, that one…
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