roads?” Martha gasped. “They’re crazy.”
The briefer was turning whiter than the free throw line below his table. He just sat with his four colleagues and said nothing. After several minutes, the audience settled, and he tried to make a joke.
“I guess we took a wrong turn back there,” he said sheepishly.
“No Shit!” someone screamed. And then the crowd roared again. The briefers could do nothing but wait until everyone settled down, and hope to start again.
Martha got a babysitter for Mindy so she could accompany me to the first public briefing by the Chesapeake Resorts International, my newest client, concerning their hotel and shopping complex to be built on Jenkins Creek. I invited Martha because my brother had also worked for CRI, but I never heard exactly what he did for them. Maybe Martha could tell me, plus I remembered she had mentioned meeting the corporate brass at some reception. I also thought it would be nice to give her a night out, even if it was work related. That’s how I assuage my guilt in these matters.
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