FOGGY LAWYER BREAKDOWN
Chapter Two
by Lawndale Stalker

"Daria! I hope you're not saying I should go out in a bikini and shake my booty and jiggle my hoo-has for money!"

"What I'm saying is that you're cute and popular the way Godzilla is big and ugly, and you should think of jobs you could do where those qualities would be assets to you."

Quinn gave Daria a suspicious look, and stared off into space for several seconds as she carefully parsed that sentence. Finally, she said, "Oh! Okay, I'll do that."

"And don't throw out the car wash idea completely. Propose it to the fashion club as a fundraiser. For, say, needy teens whose clothes are about to go out of style."

Quinn grinned. "Hee hee! Sometimes we almost think alike, Daria! It's kinda scary."

"Eek. No kidding."

Quinn exited and Daria, smiling slightly and shaking her head, turned back to her monitor. Adding one of her throwaway email addresses gave her:

SPEEDY TYPING SERVICE

COMPOSITIONS REPORTS ESSAYS TERM PAPERS

Neat Accurate Reasonable Rates Confidential

Research Service Also Available

Email:

It took her several more minutes to figure out how to print small vertical copies of the email address along the bottom that could be torn off by customers. Then, using the copy and column functions and adjusting the size of the letters, she produced a page that could be cut into eight small notices, nearly three by five inches in size. Selecting a sheet of yellow and a sheet of pink printer paper, she loaded them into her printer.

…

Jake Morgendorffer lay on the small sofa in his office, waiting for the phone to ring. He had no appointments till three. Usually about this time on a slow day, he'd walk over to the Barkin' Girl Bar and Grill for lunch, a beer or two, and maybe some pool. But if a call came in, the caller might not wait for it to be automatically transferred to his cell phone. He wanted to be able to answer it on the first ring. He looked over at the phone, which rested on the coffee table within reach, on top of a couple of old model railroading magazines. The phone remained silent.

Jake sighed. Anyway, eating at the Barkin' Girl was a luxury, a luxury he couldn't afford right now. His gaze wandered from the phone to his shoes, smartly shined this morning and just dusted off a few minutes ago. From his shoes his eyes wandered to the corner of the sofa, which was looking a trifle worn. He made a note to look into having it reupholstered as soon as business picked up and then, having nothing better to look at, closed his eyes.

A car pulled into the parking lot outside and its engine cut off. Jake wondered if it might be someone coming to see him, but didn't get up. Clients almost never dropped in on him unannounced. Doubtless whoever it was had come to one of the other small businesses that rented office space here in this small strip mall turned office park.

When Jake had first rented office space here, shortly after arriving from Highland, he'd figured he'd move into more prestigious quarters as soon as he got established. Andrew Landon sure had, as soon as he'd sold manufacturing rights to his folding coffee cup. Andy'd moved his family into Crewe Neck pretty quickly, too.

Jake squirmed uncomfortably. He'd blown what might have been a chance to do likewise, shortly after that. The client had asked for his honest opinion. And he, like a fool, had given it to him. Cigar shaped pet food snacks? Interesting idea, he'd said. Might be funny the first couple of times, he'd said. But after the novelty wore off, what was there to make the customers buy a second box? You might want to give it a little more thought before you bet the farm on it, he'd said. His honest opinion.

So the guy'd thanked him, walked out, found some other consultant who'd schmoozed him and flattered him and stroked his ego and told him he was a genius, just like Jake would've done if he hadn't been being honest, and the guy'd gone and bet the farm, and the stupid pet cigars'd been a smash success. Apparently there were a lot of pet owners out there who cracked up each and every time they saw Fido or Fifi with a cigar shaped pet snack in its mouth. Even the little tiny ones for fish were flying off the shelves. Jake wondered, for perhaps the thousandth time, if the guy had put that other consultant on retainer, and if so, how much that consultant was pulling down.

A knock interrupted Jake's recriminatory reverie. He almost sprang off the couch in his haste to get to the door. Flinging it wide, he called out in his most jovial tones, "Hello, come right in, I'm Jake Morgendorffer, welcome to Jake Morgendorffer Consulting!"

Quinn stood there, holding a picnic basket. "Hi, Daddy. I brought lunch."

"Aww, that's sweet of you, Kitten. Come in!"

Quinn entered and looked around the office, then spread a plastic tablecloth on Jake's desk, then laid out the food and two foam plates. She poured iced tea into two plastic tumblers.

Jake sat down and helped himself to reheated lasagna and green beans. Quinn put some carrot and celery sticks on her plate, and a small helping of lasagna. They ate in silence for several minutes, Quinn continuing to examine the office and its contents, Jake glancing at her as if expecting her to comment.

"So, uhh, how's your mother? And Daria?" he asked, mostly to break the awkward silence.

"They're fine. Mom flipped through some news channels and soap operas, then found a movie she hadn't seen. Daria's sitting with her, reading something." Quinn daintily bit off a length of celery stick.

"That's good. Your mother hasn't had a good rest in too long. She deserves it."

"Yeah, really. Uh, Dad, did she really resign?"

"Yes, Quinn, she did." An unhappy look crossed Jake's place, to be replaced by one of determination. "That place was just too stressful, especially for someone as hard-working and conscientious as your mother. She has trouble saying no to people, and they were taking advantage of her." His look changed to one of anger. "Especially that damned Eric. I'd like to take that phone of his and shove it where…"

"Blood pressure, Daddy!" Quinn reminded him as she picked up the tea jug. "Here, have some more iced tea."

Jake smiled and, with an effort, calmed down. He took a long drink of iced tea and wiped the cup across his forehead. "You're right, Kitten. I don't need any doctor bills right now. Lousy blood sucking…"

"Daddy! Cool breeze! Meadow! Flowers and bunnies!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay! Cool breeze!" Jake grinned sheepishly.

Quinn smiled and tried not to look worried. "When you're done with lunch, I brought some fresh cookies."

"Wow, you baked fresh cookies? For me?"

"Well actually Daria baked them. But I'm gonna bake the next batch. So, uh, Mom's retired permanently?"

Jake frowned and stared at the tablecloth as he chewed his lasagna. "Let's say for the foreseeable future. She needs to take it easy and depressurize, completely unwind, however long that takes. The doc—uh, I'd say a month, absolute minimum. Then we'll see what she feels like doing, and we'll talk about it. I hope she doesn't want to go back to that shark tank."

Quinn reached into the basket and brought out a container. "Yeah, I guess, but somehow I can't picture Mom sitting home all day doing macramé." She opened the lid and the fragrance of chocolate chip cookies wafted out.

"Ooh, I love chocolate chip cookies!" said Jake, eagerly grabbing one.

Quinn started to close up the other containers and put them away. "I'll leave you the cookies and the tea, then. I'm gonna go home and hang with Mom for a while, and Daria's going to do the grocery shopping." She stuffed everything back into the basket. "See you when you get home."

"Okay, Kitten! Thanks!" Jake said. Quinn waved and smiled as she went out the door. Jake smiled too as he leaned back, pulled one of his salesmanship books off a shelf, and helped himself to another cookie.

Jake was startled out of his doze by a knock at the door. A quick look at his watch told him that it wasn't yet two p.m. He marked his place in his book, put away the tea and cookies, and stepped quickly to the door, brushing cookie crumbs off his tie.

"Hello, come right in, I'm Jake Morgendorffer, welcome—oh, hi, Daria. I thought you were going grocery shopping."

"I am. I thought I'd stop by and see if you wanted me to pick up anything in particular." Daria stepped forward and Jake moved aside to let her enter. She held a small notebook and a pencil.

"Hmm, well… I've been meaning to make some Bul Goki. It's a Korean version of beef stew. The ingredients are the same, except it needs some Chinese cabbage, and some Star Anise. I'd need a good piece of stew beef, some onions and garlic. We have enough potatoes and carrots. Think you can get that?"

Daria wrote in her notebook. "No problem, except I don't know where to find the Star Anise. But I can ask." She looked around the office and made another note.

"Get some chicken. That's cheaper than beef or pork."

"Right. I was gonna get a bag of leg quarters. They're twenty-nine cents a pound."

"Good thinking. That's the way to stretch the ol' food dollar! Oh, and see if they have any fresh habańero peppers. Four or five should be enough."

Daria wrote something that had nothing to do with habańero peppers, while making a mental note not to find any. She glanced at the sofa and coffee table. "Well, if that's all, I'll go on. I hope you're not working too hard."

"I wish I were. I've got a prospective client coming over at three, and that's all for today. How've you and Helen been?"

"Good. She took it easy all morning, till she started getting twitchy. We found out that speedwalking gets rid of the twitches if she really goes at it. I almost collapsed trying to keep up with her."

Jake grinned "Thanks, Kiddo. I don't know what we'd do without you."

Daria paused as she went out the door. "And so that we don't have to find out, I'm letting Quinn go with Mom on her next speedwalk."

…

Helen bemusedly continued to flip through the TV channels. Quinn, sitting near her on the couch, tried to immerse herself in her magazine and ignore Helen's channel surfing. She paused occasionally on a news or weather channel, and showed a worrisome interest in 'Sick Sad World', but not enough to stay with it long. Quinn sincerely hoped this was a temporary aberration. She was forcing her attention back to her magazine again when she heard a car pull into the driveway.

"Sounds like Daria's back. I'll go help her with the groceries," Quinn said. Helen nodded vaguely.

Daria was opening the rear door of the SUV as Quinn stepped out the door. She stood and waited as Quinn approached, hand on a grocery sack. "She okay?"

"Yeah," Quinn said quietly. "She's discovered channel surfing. She only imagined the phone ringing twice."

Daria frowned. "Well, that's an improvement, I guess."

"What did you think?" Quinn asked.

"You were right. The furniture doesn't quite go with the paint and carpet, and it all looks slightly sad and shopworn. And there aren't any accent colors."

"I didn't expect you to notice that. What do you think it needs?"

Daria pondered briefly. "A still life with grapes and ripe mangos or deep red apples would do it."

"Haha! Oh, that's good!"

"What's so funny?"

"It was just so unexpected," Quinn replied. "I never would have thought of a still life. It would work, though. I was thinking more along the lines of a burgundy upholstered chair or a couple of burgundy throw pillows."

"That only fixes one thing, though. And I wouldn't buy new throw pillows for that scruffy sofa, even if I was sure that throw pillows are appropriate in an office, which I'm not."

"Mm. What else?"

"Well, he's in serious need of a magazine upgrade in the waiting area. All he has is some old magazines about toy trains. I hate to think what impression that gives clients."

"Oh, gee. That's bad. I didn't notice that."

"And that cheap false front they put on when they converted the stores to offices is deterioring. The stucco is dingy and cracking and streaked with rust, and that parking lot is about three years overdue for repaving. And almost half the offices are empty. The place looks downright seedy." Daria looked down at the SUV's bumper. "I feel guilty for not noticing it sooner".

"Yeah, me too," said Quinn. "I can't remember the last time I was there."

"I know. Dad just kind of left in the mornings and showed up in the evenings, and we didn't give much thought to where he went or what he was doing. Now that I've seen the place, I'm surprised he brings in as much as he does. He must be a better consultant than we thought he was. Imagine what he could do if he had an office that said, "I'm a bright, dynamic, successful consultant."

"But this is kind of a bad time for him to be moving to an upscale office."

"Maybe. But we can be thinking about it."

…