Damage Control Read Online Free PDF Page A

emphasis. The faces around the marble table looked on attentively. Most people took notes. All ignored the pastries and the smell of freshly roasted coffee. Ordinarily, associates despised the mundane drudgery of practice group seminars because they could not bill the time to a client. Seminars represented a lost chunk of their day that the partners didn’t consider toward yearly bonuses and compensation.
    Marvin Crocket sat at the head of the table next to Don Burnside, the president of Corrugate Industries. Burnside smiled, giving Dana his undivided attention. A good-looking, distinguished man with flags of gray at the temples, Burnside had made a point to introduce himself to her before the presentation. When she excused herself to pour a glass of water, she knew he would find an excuse to continue their conversation. She saw it in the sparkle of his eyes, the toothy smile, and the extra moment he had clasped her hand. Dana had played her part, smiling warmly while maintaining a professional demeanor. Now she was dazzling him with her mind. Crocket would invite her to lunch and add another client to his considerable stable. It was all he cared about. For a few hours, all would be forgiven.
    The door to the conference room crept open. As the person entering came within Dana’s peripheral vision, she recognized Linda. She lost her train of thought. The words stopped flowing, and her voice became indecisive. She had yet to use a notecard, and now she had no idea where she was in her presentation. She paused and looked up at Crocket and Burnside with a pained smile. “Excuse me for a moment.”
    Burnside reacted like a man dancing with a beautiful woman when the music abruptly stopped. Crocket looked like he’d bitten into something distasteful but covered it by clearing his throat and trying to sound casual. “We’ve been going about forty-five minutes. Now would be a good time for a short break.”
    Dana ushered Linda to the reception area as the attendees reached for the Danishes and filled their mugs with coffee. They stepped around a mahogany table of neatly arranged magazines to a large potted palm in the corner of the room.
    “I’m really sorry,” Linda said before Dana had time to chastise her. She clearly looked uncomfortable.
    Dana suppressed her anger. Staff was underappreciated when things went well and abused when things went wrong. “What is it?” she asked, exasperated.
    “Your husband is on the phone.”
    Tension burst across the back of Dana’s neck. She spoke from between clenched teeth. “Tell him I’m in a meeting and will call him later.”
    “I did. He insisted that I get you.”
    Out of the corner of her eye, Dana saw Crocket lumbering toward them, gaining momentum like a ball pushed downhill. “What the hell is going on? Can we move this forward?”
    “I’m afraid I have to take a call, Marvin.”
    “Now? You have to take it now? Who the blazes is it?” He looked and sounded apoplectic.
    “My husband,” she said reluctantly.
    Crocket rolled his eyes and pulled at the taut sleeve of his cuffed shirt to view the face of his Rolex. “Bad timing. This is very bad timing.” He stormed away.
    Dana started for the telephone in the small alcove off the conference room. Linda said, “He told me he wanted to speak with you in your office, in private.”
    Dana nearly growled. She stormed around the corner. It likely had to do with Molly—the school had called and Molly was sick and had to be picked up. Or Grant needed a clean shirt or an errand or some other goddamn thing he couldn’t or wouldn’t do for himself.
    She slammed her office door and snatched the receiver, knocking the telephone off the desk. The cord dangled over the side. “What the hell is it? I am in the middle of a meeting, and Crocket is about to explode.”
    “Dana, I’m sorry. I know you’re in your seminar.”
    “Was, Grant. I
was
in my seminar. Now I’m standing here talking to you while Crocket makes notes