#Book the whisperings within windows#

She’d been chipper, something Wallace had believed would lessen with time, seeing as how a law firm was no place for cheerfulness. He should’ve realized ten years ago when he’d interviewed her for the paralegal position that it’d come back to bite him in the ass. How dare she say such a thing, especially to her boss. No matter what condition the world was in, someone always needed to be sued. This year was shaping up to be even better. Last year had been the most profitable in the firm’s history. The machine had broken down, and though no one was infallible, Wallace needed to switch out the part for a new one. When he said jump, he expected those within earshot to do just that without asking inconsequential questions like how high? Their clients were the most important people on earth. Of course, he still kept a watchful eye, those in his employ knowing they needed to be working as if their lives depended on it. He wouldn’t have made it as far as he had if he’d had to micromanage every employee. Outside his office, the firm moved like a well-oiled machine, busy and self-sufficient without the need for significant input, exactly as Wallace liked. Three years ago, someone had asked if they could move the dial up to seventy degrees.

#Book the whisperings within windows#

The shades on the windows to his office were pulled shut against the afternoon sun, the air-conditioning blasting harshly, keeping him alert. He made a mental note to send out a memo to remind everyone that he had a sensitive nose, and that he shouldn’t be expected to work in such conditions. One of the night staff must have spilled something in his office, the scent thick and cloying. He folded his hands on his oak desk, his Arper Aston chair squeaking as he settled in for what he was sure was going to be a case of unfortunate histrionics, all while trying to keep from grimacing at the stench of bleach and Windex. “How did you know?” she said, her cheeks wet as she reached for the Kleenex box on his desk. Tears were pointless, and she was only delaying the inevitable. Little tears, big tears, full-on body-wracking sobs, it didn’t matter. Wallace Price hated it when people cried.