First Class Stamp Read Online Free PDF Page A

asking
him why there had been no reply from his pen-pal. He scratched out the address
on a company envelope, printed the letter and stuffed it inside, licking the
fold and sealing it shut. He threw it in the pile on the corner of his desk for
his assistant to deal with and continued on with his work day.
    By seven o’clock that evening, Ben had accomplished a great
deal. He stood from his executive leather chair and stretched. His assistant,
Emily, had left about an hour before and Ben looked out his window at the cars
crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. He’d skipped lunch in order to be more efficient
and his stomach was growling, demanding to be fed – soon!
    Ben straightened his tie and pulled his suit coat from the
rack to the side of his desk and shoved his arms into the Italian-made sleeves.
He gathered his laptop and a couple of files he was planning on taking home
with him and shoved them into his leather briefcase. As he rounded the corner
of his desk, from the corner of his eye he saw the hand-written envelope still
on top of the dark wood. He frowned and picked up his letter to Luca. The mail
room would be empty by now and he really wanted it mailed. He wanted a reply to
eliminate his concern. He slid it into the pocket of his coat and slammed his
door behind him as he headed for the bank of elevators.
    The sidewalks were still bustling with people. Just because
it was after five o’clock in the U.S.A. didn’t mean there weren’t parts of the
world still in the middle of their work day. Before Ben had been promoted to a
Vice President, there were many, many nights spent at the office calling
Hong Kong or Sydney at four in the morning. He was glad, however, that there
were others to take care of those calls now, at least for the most part.
    Crossing the street and continuing down the sidewalk, he
approached Aldo’s Market. He could go home get a stamp and then mail the
letter, or he could just grab another stamp on his way, saving himself time and
energy. Making the most efficient decision, Ben entered the small grocery store
and headed for the counter. Aldo sat on a stool behind the cash register. He
looked extra tired this evening.
    “Good evening, Mr. Manning,” Ben smiled.
    “Hello Mr. Lathem,” Aldo replied. He had a knack for
remembering names and made a point to formally address Ben every time he
entered his establishment.
    “Was that your grandson I met the other day when I was in
here?” Ben asked.
    “Probably was,” Aldo smiled. “A twelve year old?”
    “That would be him,” Ben smiled. “Good looking young man.
Very polite too.”
    Aldo grinned with pride. “Looks just like his mother. And
he’d better be polite. He wasn’t raised to be a thug!”
    “I don’t think you have any worries there,” Ben nodded.
“Seemed like a good kid to me.”
    “We think so,” Aldo beamed. “What can I get for you?”
    “Some stamps please.”
    At that moment, the young man in question came bounding
through the back entrance bouncing a basketball up the aisle to his
grandfather.
    “Oh, hi!” he exclaimed when he saw Ben.
    “Hi,” Ben said as he extended his hand to the boy. “Your
grandfather and I were just talking about you.” Alex looked worried. Ben
chuckled. “All good stuff I assure you,” he eased the boy’s mind. “I’m Ben
Lathem. Nice to meet you.”
    “Alex Grossman,” he said as he took Ben’s hand and shook it.
    “You know a handshake says a lot about a man,” Ben’s tone
was serious. “You’ve got a good grip and a firm shake. No limp fish hands.
That’s good.”
    “Thanks,” Alex grinned.
    Aldo pulled a book of stamps from the drawer of the cash
register and Ben opened his wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.
    “Do we get to keep the change this time too?” Alex asked,
wide-eyed and totally serious.
    “Alex!” Aldo reprimanded.
    Ben chuckled. “You can have the eighty cents but I want the
ten dollars.”
    “Sounds good to me,” Alex replied.
    Aldo