Delicate Chaos Read Online Free PDF Page A

carbon dioxide into the atmosphere when they burned the coal to produce electrical power. But people wanted
     air-conditioning in the summer and lights in the winter. They couldn’t live without the thousands of megawatts of energy that
     the steam-powered turbines generated. And that was going to make him even richer than he already was.
    Swanson slowed as he passed Reginald Morgan’s executive assistant. She glanced up at him and smiled. “What are you going to
     do when your boss is gone?” he asked.
    “Catch up,” she said cheerfully. “The only time I get a chance to clear off my desk is when he leaves for a week or two.”
    “Where are Reginald and Amelia going?” Swanson asked her.
    “Caribbean,” she answered.
    “Their place in the Caymans?”
    “No, Mr. Morgan wanted to move around a bit. They’re taking a cruise.”
    “Late in the season for a cruise.” Swanson headed for the door. “Almost hurricane season.”
    “Mr. Morgan thought of that. He figures the best place to be is on a cruise ship,” she said. “They simply change course and
     miss the storm.”
    “Makes sense.” Swanson gave the CEO’s assistant a nod of his head. “Unless the storm comes looking for you,” he said quietly
     under his breath.

5
    Leona finally left the office at twenty minutes to seven. She had opted not to drive to work in the morning, and hailed a
     cab and gave the driver the address to her restaurant. Invited guests would be arriving by eight and she wanted to help Tyler
     with the setup. Her mind wandered as the taxi moved with the evening DC traffic, past Washington Circle on Pennsylvania Avenue.
     The tightly fitting buildings, like a precise jigsaw puzzle, melted away as they traversed Rock Creek Park. They came out on
     the west side and entered Georgetown.
    Anthony Halladay had dropped quite the plum on her desk. She should be thrilled; they didn’t hand out vice presidencies at
     the bank very often. Currently there were six. Now seven. Her take-home pay would go through the roof, and her profile in
     a city built on profile would increase exponentially. But his comments bothered her. The caveat attached to the position.
    It goes without saying how important Coal-Balt is to us. I don’t foresee any problems with this conversion. I hope you don’t either.
    His words were specific—don’t screw this up. But his tone was normal, not malicious or threatening. She was probably reading
     too much into it. Monday was her first day on the twelfth floor, her first day on the income trust conversion. She’d worry
     about it then. Right now, she had a weekend ahead of her, starting with a fundraiser to host.
    The cab slowed on M Street in Georgetown, then pulled in behind a Foggy Bottom shuttle, finally arriving in front of Gin House.
     She paid the driver and checked her watch as she cut across the sidewalk to the front door. Seven-thirty. Plenty of time.
     The outside of the restaurant was in contrast to the name. Stylish taupe-colored acrylic pillars bordered each of the eight
     floor-to-ceiling picture windows. A portico of the same color and texture jutted out over a stylish patio packed with diners
     listening to light rock on the Boettger sound system as they ate or drank.
    She glanced at the menu posted inside the front door. It was the food, and how they prepared it, that set Gin House apart
     from every other DC restaurant. Everything was organic, and locally grown. The chickens were free range, the beef grassfed
     and the vegetables had somehow reached maturity without being sprayed with chemicals. The concept had caught on, not just
     with tree huggers, but with average people who liked fresh, well-cooked food and didn’t mind paying a premium. Leona Hewitt
     loved to cook, and owning a restaurant was a dream that had happened more by happenchance than good planning.
    Mildred, her favorite aunt, had bought the building that housed the restaurant twenty-five years ago when DC real estate