Free Any Minute by Meyer Joyce Bedford Deborah Page A

only Cubs fan on the North Side, do you?”
    “You just… keep Cubs pencils in your desk?”
    He grinned.
    Sarah closed her fingers over them. “Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life?”
    “No. But I think I’ll start counting. And when it comes time for me to apply to this firm for a
real
job—”
    “You’ll have my glowing letter of recommendation,” she finished for him. “Just say the word.”
    To get them past this pleasing yet awkward subject, Leo sorted through the message slips again. “Your nanny called to say it was applesauce, not peanut butter.”
    “Tell her to text me. I want that in writing.”
    “Rothman wants to know what you think about the price direction on silver.”
    “You can tell Rothman I think he needs to do his own research.”
    “You’ll get back to him with an answer. This afternoon.” Leo made another note. “Oh, and your stepfather called. Something about a missed appointment. He sent you a text, but you never showed up.”
    She’d totally forgotten. “When? Yesterday?” She couldn’t even remember when she’d been scheduled to meet him. “Oh, Leo. Can you get back to him for me?”
    Ever since she could remember, Harold had been like a true father to her. She felt like a traitor for having forgotten him. Her life was reeling out of control, and she felt powerless to make it stop. Forgetting appointments and not even being able to remember making them, snapping at Mitchell, hurrying all the time, trying to please everyone and not even being able to please her own husband. Her head was hurting again, and she was so tired. Sarah felt trapped. She didn’t know how she could go on like this. Yet at the same time, she didn’t know how to stop.
    “Maybe I could give him some sort of estimate? When you’ll call him back? He sounded kind of forlorn.”
    But she couldn’t answer that. “Tell him I’ll call him when my schedule isn’t nuts. When things get better. When I haven’t made promises to Mitchell. You know what to say.” It was just too much. Every time another person demanded something of her, Sarah felt even more depleted. She didn’t have anything to give anyone else. She was just plain worn out. And yet everyone kept asking for more. It was endless. It took all the self-control she could manage not to scream.
    Leo didn’t dial right away. “Guess who’s been asking for you ever since the floor closed.”
    “Oh no. Really?” She pointed to the stack of files on Leo’s desk. “Are those Tom’s
notes
?”
    “Afraid so. I’ll let him know you’ll be right up.”
    “Thanks.”
    But Leo kept looking at her like he wanted to warn her of something. “Tread lightly.”
    “Why?”
    “Lauren Davis just got canned.”
    Sarah’s hand froze on the file folder. “What?”
    “Not kidding you.”
    She felt the color drain from her face. She just stood there in shock. So this was the reason everyone kept tiptoeing around like they might step on a land mine, meeting each other’s eyes with grim, knowing glances.
    “Why?”
    He shook his head, at a loss. “He told her to clean out her office. She left with everything packed in a cardboard box.”
    Sarah couldn’t explain the jolt of terror she felt, the sudden, improbable grief she felt for Lauren, who, just this morning, had been comfortably sipping coffee and making comments about Mitchell’s trading jacket and hadn’t any idea that, like a plunging stock price, she would be worth nothing by the end of the day.
    “Rumor has it that Lauren wouldn’t deal with an account because she didn’t want to do it his way.”
    “Oh.” Sarah forgot everyone around her. She forgot Leo, who had asked if he could leave on time tonight because he had something planned with his sister. She forgot Joe, who didn’t approve of her anymore, who’d said, “
I don’t know how much longer I can stand by and watch you disappoint him,”
and who didn’t see how hard she was trying. She forgot Mitchell, whom