Pieces of the Puzzle Read Online Free PDF

Christmas. It had lifetime NewsNet access and a remote viewer so he could “catch up with
     the world” from his easy chair. It had seemed such a deal. She had also hoped that he would no longer leave mountains of paper
     all over the den. But he preferred hard copy, had to have hard copy. The only thing he used the computer for was to read the
     headlines to him until he found an article he wanted, and then he would tell the computer to print it.
    “Has to feel like a newspaper,” Scott told her when she fussed at him. The newspaper was like the ritualistic Sunday dinners
     that always had to come from the outdoor grill. Routines. Order, clear and simple. But that was one of the reasons she loved
     him. With Scott, life was a clear path. He didn’t play mind games with her. He loved her; he showed her every day—when he
     was there.
    She paused to look at her hair in the mirror at the end of the hall. The phone rang.
    “Scott,” she called out, “you going to answer that?” The butler, Edward, said, “Madam, I’ll be happy to answer it.”
    Cynthia didn’t say a word. Even without seeing Scott, she knew he was looking at his watch.
    “Stop,” Scott would tell the computer, then he’d say to her, “After twelve already, I’m reading the Post now, almost finished.
    After that, I’ll do whatever you want. I promise.”
    The phone rang again. Cynthia walked to the door of the den. Her face flushed. Her toes tingled. Her jaw quivered. She peered
     into the dark and silent room.
    The computer started to answer the call. Cynthia ran to pick up the phone. “Hello… Daddy, where are you? I’ve been trying
     to reach you since Monday. I kept getting your answering service. They wouldn’t even tell me where you were. I’m worried about
     Scott.”
    “It’s not their job to know where I am,” Mr. Simons said. “I was in New York, but I’m back home now. I didn’t forget your
     mother’s birthday, I sent flowers.”
    “But that isn’t…” Cynthia began, planning to tell him what she was thinking. Then finally understanding what he was saying,
     she replied, “What do you mean you sent flowers? We always go together.”
    Mr. Simons replied, “I promise this won’t happen next year.”
    She eased her way into Scott’s computer chair. “Business?”
    Mr. Simons said, “Pumpkin, you know nothing else would keep me away.”
    “I love Scott,” she blurted out. For a long time afterward there was silence on the other end of the line. “Daddy, are you
     there?”
    “Yes, pumpkin,” Mr. Simons replied.
    “I know you’re being forced into retirement, but you still have some power connections, don’t you?” She asked, her voice wavering
     at the last few words. “You’re still the Chairman, right?”
    “I’ve a few connections, yes.”
    “Scott and I want to make a life for ourselves.” Her voice trembled and became very soft, “Daddy, I want Scott to live to
     see his son grow up.”
    “How is the baby doing? When was your last check-up?” Mr. Simons asked.
    “Daddy, I want Scott to live to see his son being born,” Cynthia repeated.
    “Are you crying?” Mr. Simons asked. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong. Whatever’s wrong, daddy’ll fix it.
    Something to do with Scott, is that it?”
    “Daddy, can you come tomorrow?”
    Silence on the other end of the phone greeted her for a moment, and then Mr. Simons said, “I’ve got an early flight tomorrow.
     I’ll be back on Friday. I’ll come straight from the airport.”
    A moment ago Cynthia hadn’t been crying, but suddenly the weight of three months’ worth of anxiety became more than she could
     hold up under. It was her trembling jaw that brought the first tear to her eye and once the first tear rolled down her cheek,
     the others came like water through an open spigot. She whispered, “Just come now.”
    It was an hour and forty-five minutes later that the black sedan made its way into the driveway. Scott watched