The First Counsel

* * *

Throwing my briefcase on my desk, I check the digital screen on my office phone. Four new messages waiting. I hit the Call Log button to see who they're from, but every one of them is an outside call. Whoever it is, they're desperate to get in touch. My phone rings, and I jump back, startled. Caller ID reads Outside Call.

I lunge for the receiver as quick as I can. "Hello?"

"Michael?" a soft female voice whispers.

"Nora? Is that--"

"Did you see Bartlett's quote?" she interrupts.

I don't answer.

"You saw it, didn't you?" she repeats. Her voice is shaky, and I know that tone. I heard it that day in the bowling alley. She's worried about her dad. "What'd Trey say about it?" she asks.

"Trey? Who cares what Trey said. How're you?"

She pauses, sounding confused. "I don't understand."

"How're you doing? Are you okay? I mean, no offense to your dad, but you're the one they're slapping around."

There's another pause. This one a little longer. "I'm fine . . . I'm good." There's a change in her voice. "How're you?" she asks, sounding almost happy.

"Don't worry about me. Now what were you saying about Bartlett's quote?"

"Nothing . . . nothing . . . just par for the course."

"I thought you wanted to talk abou--"

"No. Not anymore," she says with a laugh. "Listen, I really should run."

"So I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah," she coos. "Definitely."