The Passing Storm: A Novel by Christine Nolfi

Author:Christine Nolfi [Nolfi, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2021-11-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Only three of the large-screen monitors glowed with activity on Design Mark’s ground floor.

On Saturdays most of the staff worked remotely, if they worked at all. Freedom of choice brought higher creativity. Griffin encouraged the staff to build their own schedules. The only exception? When clients were on premise. In the age of teleconferencing, those in-person meetings took place less frequently.

The business-casual dress code didn’t extend to Saturdays. Two of the graphic designers who’d come in today wore jeans and ball caps. The third, Tabby Jones, was hunched over her keyboard in flannel pajama bottoms and a neon-green Little Mermaid top, a souvenir from a recent trip to SoCal. No one acknowledged the boss striding past. Fingers streaming across keyboards, they were locked in concentration.

The second floor rested in silence. The conference room smelled of pepperoni; Griffin threw out the day-old pizza box left on the table.

The reception area was orderly, like his large, sparsely furnished office.

With the building’s refurb, the old plaster had been removed from the outer wall to reveal the red brick used to erect the building in 1887. The new bank of windows overlooked the street and his father’s car dealership, which was partially hidden in warmer months, when the century-old maple trees leafed out. Griffin had chosen sleek Danish furniture, including a long white leather couch for impromptu meetings with the staff. No personal mementos graced the office. The only exception was a silver-framed photo on his desk of him with Sally and Jackie at last year’s Geauga County Fair.

If Design Mark resembled a frat house most days, Griffin didn’t mind. He drew the line at his personal space.

He was finishing a call when his sister swept in.

He did a doubletake. Sally’s features were stiff with rage. An uncommon sight. By nature, both of the Marks siblings were even-tempered. He could only recall a handful of times when he’d seen his sister upset.

“Last year, how often did you take Lark to Dixon’s?” Sally demanded.

Warily, Griffin placed the phone in the cradle. “Does it matter?”

“Obviously. You didn’t tell me.”

Brows lifting, he searched for a reply. Taking Lark out for ice cream had been a kind gesture, nothing more.

His bafflement merely increased his sister’s anger. “Why didn’t you mention it when you showed me Rae’s keepsake? Griffin, we talked for more than an hour. We covered a lot of ground. You had ample time to fill me in.”

“It wasn’t relevant,” he snapped. “Why do you believe it is now?”

“Because an innocent man doesn’t hide the facts.”

The strange accusation warned there was more here than was obvious. What am I missing? Sally marched back and forth before his desk. Agitation spilled off her in waves.

“I took Lark to Dixon’s twice,” he said with care. “How is that a crime?”

“I guess it depends on how much you knew. Were you completely in the dark? Griffin, you took her to Dixon’s on Wednesdays.” Sally regarded him as if he was a fool. “If you weren’t keeping secrets, then Katherine is correct.

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