Mr. And Miss Anonymous Read Free Page A

on it appeared behind his eyelids. Lily. Lily something. He took a minute to wonder where she was and what she was doing. She was probably married with four or five kids and a doting husband. He corrected that thought immediately when he remembered the last time he’d seen her and the sad look in her eyes. No, he’d bet PAK Industries that Lily something-or-other wasn’t married with kids.
    Pete looked down at the calendar on his desk. He had a busy day. After the photo op with the senator, he had an appointment with his shrink. Maybe after his appointment he would be in a better frame of mind to make a decision about attending the fund-raiser.
    The pricey TAG Heuer watch on his wrist chirped. Time to head for the boardroom so he could make his announcement. Fifteen minutes, tops. Five minutes to get downstairs to meet the senator and smile pretty for the cameras. What the hell was the senator’s name? Then off to the shrink. After that, he was on his own time. The thought left him light-headed.
    Precisely three minutes later, Pete entered the conference room. For some reason, the room always amazed him. It was half the size of a football field, with wraparound windows for light, and was dominated by a long teak table whose shine was so bright he could see his reflection. Twelve leather chairs surrounded the table. Off to all four sides of the large room were private groupings of chairs, small sofas, tables, and tons of greenery. In the center of the teak table was a magnificent silver coffee urn, with fine china cups and a crystal decanter of orange juice as well as four trays of assorted pastries.
    “Hi, people,” Pete said, taking his seat at the head of the table. He looked around at all the people who had worked at his side for years and years to make it all happen. He owed them all big-time. He nodded to Millie, who was trotting around the long table, placing in front of each person a snow-white envelope with the PAK logo in the corner.
    “A show of my appreciation. Look, there’s no easy way to say this other than to come right out and say it. I’m taking some time off. A year at the least. Maybe longer. You can run this place without me. There are some things I need to do. Personal things. So, having said that”—Pete tossed a set of keys to his second-in-command, Marty Bronson—“the keys to everything, Marty, and you get my parking space. Before you can ask, no, I am not sick, no, I am not getting married.”
    Pete pushed back his chair and stood up. “Oh, there is one other thing. Every one of you in this room has my cell phone number. If you call me, you’re fired. I’ll check in from time to time so you can hear my cheery voice. I want to walk out of here knowing I didn’t make a mistake when I hired you all. Just make me proud and let me get out of here before I start blubbering. Don’t get up. Sit there and plan how you’re going to spend those checks I just gave you. See ya!”
    Outside in the hallway, Millie stared at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “That was a really shitty thing you just did in there, Peter Aaron Kelly. You should have prepared us, given some kind of warning. Everyone’s in shock. What are you going to do now, watch television?”
    It was the worst thing Millie could have said to her boss. Pete never watched television; he hated it with a passion. Every day his staff tormented him with what they’d seen on the tube that he’d missed. Pete turned away, too choked up to reply right away. When he finally got his tongue to work, he said, “Call Berkeley and tell them I might or might not attend. There’s a check in my top drawer you can forward by overnight mail. Give my regrets about not being their guest speaker, say I was flattered, yada, yada, yada. I’m going to forget that crack you just made about me watching television. C’mere, give me a big hug so I can go meet that senator. What the hell is his name?”
    Millie wiped at her eyes. “His name is Hudson