Norman

The morning was running exactly as it should.

Calls returned, meetings confirmed, the California contract already generating the kind of press coverage that made competitors uncomfortable.

I leaned back in my chair and reviewed the morning brief with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had played the week well.

The door opened.

Evelyn came in with the efficiency she always carried — heels precise, posture straight, a small stack of sorted mail tucked under one arm and a coffee in her free hand. She set the coffee on my desk first, then the mail beside it, neat and ordered by priority the way I liked.

“Morning post,” she said...