I didn’t have much time to mourn Sandy Fries. Lori walked to me standing by the Care Bears desks and said, “Come with me.” As we walked past staff writers writing and artists drawing, I looked to the second floor walkway. Andy, Jean and Kevin were by the railing. I thought I saw Andy smile. Then they turned and walked away.
Lori opened a door and as we walked into a windowless but comfortable office, she said, “Your office.” There was a weathered oak desk, a brown leather executive chair, a couple of office chairs, tan metal file cabinets, the requisite phone, a Rolodex, plenty of pens, yellow legal notepads and, taking my breath away, a huge computer monitor and keyboard perched atop the desk, wires running to a tower hidden below.
“Thank you, Lori.”
She answered, “You earned it.”
I ran my fingertips over the Rolodex and looked to Lori. “Writers?”
She nodded. “You’ve got two weeks to get the series back on schedule.”
I said, “Done.” She nodded, knowing it would be. I sat in my chair and added, “I’ve got work to do.”
My benefactor grinned. “Indeed you do.”
As she was leaving, I asked, “Can I have the conference room at noon tomorrow?”
She said, “I’ll get it for you.” Then she left.
I looked at Rolodex, picked up the phone and called the first writer. It was going to be a long day, an even longer one looming tomorrow.