Suspenseful happenings

Good evening loyal readers,

You may have noticed that I haven't updated since my last chapter. I assure you it is not for lack of interest, but rather only because I didn't have anything important to tell you, however, before chapter three, I would like to make a few observations.

As I may have mentioned, I ordered Dragon Naturally Speaking a few weeks back and have been using it off and and on so that I don't have to type my entire word count each day. For the most part I have been very impressed with its accuracy, however does make rereading my work that much more of a necessity. Suffice to say, if I hadn't reread chapter three before posting it, certain sections would make a good deal less sense.

I wanted to thank those of you that have contributed suggestions, comments and well wishes, it does help to not have to do the project entirely alone. Someone kindly pointed out that my last chapter was riddled with grammatical errors which I note should be expected when one is writing at this pace. Don't worry though, if I like the novel well enough to edit it in December, I will freely let anyone edit who has the perverse desire to do so. And now, without further delay,

Chapter 3

The sun came up on another beautiful Vancouver day and Tim awoke shortly thereafter, full of enthusiasm. All sense of stress and foreboding that had been bothering him for most of the previous week had melted away and he was feeling ready to take on the world. In fact, he had the strange sense that after a challenging week things were starting to get a little bit easier and that the glorious weather outside echoed the day's potential. Given his optimistic can-do attitude, I would like to tell you that Tim was embarking on a productive and pleasant day but that simply wasn't the case.

You see, as fate seems apt to do, just when all signs were pointing to a break in the storm, a real challenge was on the horizon. However, in his defence, Tim really had no way of knowing what the day would hold and therefore his optimism was quite reasonable, if ultimately unjustified.

The day began ordinarily enough, Tim's appointment at the office wasn't until 11 o'clock and so he decided to have a more leisurely morning. After putting on a pot of coffee, he gathered up the newspaper and the morning mail. As he waited for the coffee to brew, he opened up the paper and looked at the news. After glancing over the first page, he turned to the comic section to indulge in one of his more juvenile pursuits. Once he had read the latest Dilbert and a selection of the other comics, his eyes happened to glance over a column at the top of the page.

It seemed the Vancouver Sun had done some surveys and found out that the people who still bought newspapers were looking for more local news, the kind of thing that couldn't easily be replaced on the Internet. Consequently, when a lottery winner was announced in their own midst, it sparked an idea in the head of a certain enterprising editor. She figured that much as people were interested in the lives of celebrities, they would be equally interested in following the life of a newly made millionaire, particularly one in their own city.

Therefore, on that particular Tuesday morning, Tim had the distinct honour of reading the second in a multipart series: Vancouver's newest millionaire. Jeremy Evans, it seemed, was not satisfied with his with his three million or so and therefore accepted the Sun's offer to write about his new luxurious life. Normally this would not be a problem, except that Jeremy's life was slightly less luxurious than was commonly known. While $3 million is hardly a small sum, in a city as expensive as Vancouver, Tim worried, it might become too quickly apparent that Jeremy was not as rich as people supposed.

After reading through the column, Tim could not find anything in particular to object to. However, he was concerned about what might be covered in the future. He dialled James's number and listened as the phone rang 15 or 20 times before going to voicemail. It seemed that James had taken a rather inopportune moment for his annual vacation. The message said that he would be back the following Monday and that any urgent matters could be directed to his colleague, Matthew Arnold.

Since Tim was still very concerned about his privacy, even though he wanted to contact James as quickly as possible, he decided it was best to wait until his return, so he left a message for James to call him as soon as he got back. In the meantime, he would have to try to handle matters more directly. He looked through the phone book for Jeremy's number. Unsurprisingly there were no fewer than 14 Jeremy Evans in the Vancouver phone book. Those he was able to reach certainly weren't the one he was looking for and those he wasn't able to reach didn't seem very promising either. Of course, Tim knew that this was a long shot at best. Almost invariably the first thing Jeremy would have done would be to change his phone number.

Tim's easiest source of information, of course, would be James, but he wouldn't be available for almost a week. In that time many things could be written in the column that would bring unhelpful scrutiny to Tim's own situation. He typed Jeremy's name into Google on the off chance that he was foolish enough to have his information publicly available. If Tim could find an address, he might be able to force a meeting. Yet Tim's luck continued to be poor and Google returned nothing of use.

Starting to feel a little bit desperate, Tim decided to go an unconventional route. While he knew it would be risky, he would attempt to contact the columnist at the Vancouver Sun. He had her name, but he knew that newspapers weren't exactly eager to give out the information of their staff. Yet, if he was able to prove a connection to the story at hand, it might be possible to reach the columnist though that would require revealing information he was determined to keep to himself.

Just in case, he called up the general number for the Vancouver Sun. When he asked for a phone number for Tabitha Trembley, the receptionist told him that she was not able to provide personal information. She could, however, give Tim an e-mail address if he was interested in further information about one of her columns. While this wasn't ideal, it was more than Tim had expected. He thanked the receptionist and took down the information.

He had to think carefully about how he would compose this e-mail. He needed to strike a balance between urgency and courtesy. Journalists are usually loath to reveal anything about their interviewees, and in this particular case, all the more so. Tim tried to think of some compelling reason that he would need Jeremy's information, but nothing came to him. He decided to leave the e-mail for now, he would rather a compelling argument a little bit late, then to let his impatience be his undoing.

Tim looked at the clock on his computer and noticed it was almost time to head to work if he didn't want to be late for his appointment. He hoped that perhaps taking a break from the matter would give him some new insight and give him a chance to calm down. He got his things organized and headed out the door.

He arrived at the office at 10:45 and checked his messages and e-mail. No messages and no e-mail of any importance. He opened up the file of the client coming to see him. Betty Samuelson had been with him for about five years and was one of his better clients. She had recently been through a divorce and wanted to readjust her portfolio to take into account the changes to her life.

She arrived at his office at 11 o'clock precisely. Tim always appreciated encountering other people that shared his respect for punctuality. After offering her a seat and a drink, the first of which she accepted in the second she declined, they began on the matter at hand. Betty's initial retirement plan had counted on two incomes and two pensions, but this would of course no longer be the case.

As it happened, her portfolio was in pretty good shape. Having had the good fortune to be primarily focused in government securities, she had not been hit nearly as hard as many other investors during the crash. More so, she has trusted Tim when he told her not to sell her investments and this too had paid off. She was hoping to retire in seven years while maintaining a lifestyle that would allow her to take her annual vacation and visit her daughter in Montréal a couple times a year.

Her goals were not impossible, but they would require substantially increasing the yield of her portfolio. This would of course mean increasing her level of risk.

"Betty," Tim began, "if you still want to be able to visit Susan twice a year in Montréal and keep up your vacations, we are going to have to make some adjustments. I know you don't like risk, but risk is unavoidable. The only question is which risk is worse. Either you can take the risk of your portfolio not being large enough to support the kind of retirement you want, or you can take the risk that some of your investments could fall. My advice is that we aim to increase your yield by about 3% annually. This wouldn't require too much more risk, but it would make your current goals more realistic."

Betty seemed prepared for what she had heard, and while she didn't like it, she knew that Tim was right, "if you think that would be best, I'll do it. I know there's no such thing as a free lunch, and I guess I'll just have to get used to a little more volatility, or rather just volatility of a different kind." She laughed a little.

Tim drew up all the required paperwork, and entered the new assumptions into his computer model. He printed off a copy for Betty to show her what her new portfolio would look like and where it was projected to be by the time she retired. She seemed reassured to see it on paper and signed all the appropriate documents. When it was all done she thanked him and left.

He reflected on the level of trust that she had in him. Would he be willing to put his retirement in a stranger's hands the way that she had? He didn't have an answer. One thing he did know was that his current job wasn't sustainable. At first he thought maybe he could continue on as usual, but it was becoming increasingly clear that was not the case. He decided his best option was to take an extended leave of absence. This would give him the time he needed to sort things out, while still leaving the door open to return if he decided to later.

Tim set about drafting a letter to his boss requesting the leave. He had always held the view that leaving the door open was a good policy even if he didn't expect to use it. He tried to come up with a compelling reason for his absence but eventually settled on vague language about his need to ‘get perspective and reassess his goals’. It sounded cheesy as anything, but there was a good chance it would be credible. Worst case scenario, his request didn’t get granted and he would have to quit. Best case, it did and he had the freedom to figure out if he really did want to work there. He kept the letter short and formal and when he was happy with it, printed it off and signed it.

While he was writing, he decided to draft the email to Tabitha. Delaying it indefinitely was no more helpful than waiting for James to return from vacation. He wrote the opening sentence four or five times, unable to find something that encompassed the tone he was aiming for. Confidence without arrogance, supplication without neediness, and above all, incredibly persuasive prose. Never having been much of a writer, this was an intimidating challenge for Tim. After half an hour of drafting and redrafting, he ended up with the following:

Dear Ms. Trembley,

I greatly enjoyed reading your column in today’s Vancouver Sun regarding Mr. Jeremy Evans. Your vivid description and well-chosen quotations provided an enticing reading experience.

I am trying to conduct some research on the affects of lottery winnings on personal relationships and was thrilled to discover there was a potential subject in our very own city. Understandably, I have had some difficulty contacting Mr. Evans due to the great amount of publicity he is no doubt receiving. I was wondering if it might be possible to get his information from you who have invariably faced the challenges of getting adequate sources first hand. Thanks very much and I look forward to the continuation of your column.

Sincerely,

T. Harding

Tim was quite proud of his handiwork. Whether it was effective or not was another matter, but he felt at the very least he had done his best and came up with something suitably persuasive. He sent it out and then proceeded to take the earlier letter off to his boss who would likely be in his office by this time.

He walked across the office to a door that read “Michael J. North, President” and knocked. A large, middle-aged man opened the door with a warm smile, “Come on in Tim, what can I do for you?”

Tim entered the small, elegant office and admired the order that Mr. North kept everything in. It reflected a man whose management skills were not limited to his employees, but also his own possessions. Michael had founded the company sixteen years ago and, through tenacity and prowess, grown it into a well-respected niche player in a crowded market. While he could have taken on a more administrative role, Michael prided himself on still maintaining a list of clients like his staff. He chose to live by example and inspired both loyalty and respect. For these reasons Tim was a little reluctant to abandon ship, but felt that it was time.

He gathered his thoughts and began, “I wanted to talk to you about something. I have been thinking a lot the past few weeks and have come to the conclusion that I need to take some time off to figure out where things are going. I’ve written it all up in a letter for you, but wanted to see you personally because I realize it is a lot to ask.”

Michael listened as Tim spoke, expressing neither surprise nor agitation. When Tim had finished, he handed Michael the letter who in turn read through it carefully in silence. After a few moments of consideration he responded.

“While I will be disappointed to lose you, if only for a while, I would much rather you figure things out for yourself so that you can come back and devote your full attention to your clients rather than be distracted and only go through the motions. Take the rest of the week to talk with your clients and arrange for other advisers to look after them in your absence and then consider your request granted. When you are ready, you can contact me and we will discuss bringing you back in. I wish you the best of luck in whatever it is you need to figure out, I am sure you will be very successful.”

Tim was relieved that the conversation went so well. He thanked Michael and returned to his office. Altogether, his day seemed to be looking up after a rocky start. While he hadn’t heard anything back from Tabitha, his success with his boss and contentment with the content of his email left him optimistic. As Michael had requested, he began the process of offloading his clients. It was a little more difficult to do during the summer since fewer advisers were available, but in his time with the company he had earned some favours and was able to find enough willing colleagues to help him out. He set about making up a spreadsheet and combining the willing advisers he had managed to find with his current client list so as to best match complementary skill sets and needs. While it was a challenging task, he was able to make substantial progress on it prior to leaving the office for the day and it kept his mind off other matters.

On his way out the door a few colleagues invited him out for a beer to say goodbye and send him off properly, even when he explained he would be there till the end of the week. While he didn’t typically socialize with his coworkers outside of office hours, he decided to make an exception and at least have a few beers.

They walked over to one of the overpriced, faux Irish-themed pubs on campus and sat out on the patio. Between tracks of U2 and Great Big Sea a waitress finally came over to the table and took their orders. The menu had the usual pub food, chiefly consisting of a variety of burgers, nachos, calamari and the like. Tim could never quite figure out what made the pub Irish apart from some cheesy green colour scheme and nine dollar pints of Guinness. But if this kind of anachronistic monstrosity could succeed anywhere, it would certainly be on campus.

He had a surprisingly enjoyable evening talking and laughing with his colleagues. He had never really been one to socialize in large groups, but he could now understand the appeal. Though he didn’t have much to contribute when the conversation turned to sports, he could always find someone willing to discuss where the economy was going or the latest innovations in fixed-income. Tim found himself wishing that he had gotten to know these people earlier as he might have made some friends at the office. As it was, he had always kept to himself and only spoken with the others periodically, usually if he needed something.

The beer continued to be ordered, first by the pint and later by the pitcher. As the sun set into the summer sky, Tim couldn’t be sure what exactly he was drinking, only that he enjoyed it and that he endeavoured to do this kind of thing more often.

Far too quickly, it seemed, the pub was closing up for the evening and everyone went up to the front to pay their tab. Tim said goodnight to everyone and called up a taxi, as he was somewhat concerned about falling asleep if he waited for a bus. As it was, he had difficulty staying awake for the seven minute ride home and stumbled a little getting out of the cab.

When he arrived home, he took off his coat and drank a few glasses of water to counteract the inevitable hangover awaiting him the next morning. Feeling refreshed, he decided that it was a good time to clean up his apartment. Though his head was still a little fuzzy, he finished the dishes he had left in the sink the other night along with the coffee mugs scattered around the apartment. He turned on the radio, thankful for having walls thick enough that the sound wouldn’t disturb his neighbours.

He was remarkably productive in the next hour, not only cleaning up his dishes but also straightening up his living room and even putting on a load of laundry. His place was cleaner than it had been in months and Tim was in high spirits. A productive day and an enjoyable evening, topped off with a clean apartment.

Finally, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol and his busy day, he headed to bed, though not before organizing his clothes for the next day. He fell asleep quickly and slept very both soundly and peacefully until the next morning.

He had made the best of the day and done all that he could do to work with the challenges in front of him. The matter of the troubling newspaper column had faded away for the moment and he had accomplished a lot. All in all, not much more could have been expected of him, except perhaps to have remembered to take his phone out of his jacket and thereby have heard it when it went off several times that evening. But instead, he slept peacefully in his bed, unable to hear the occasional beep from his coat in the other room signalling a message that, unbeknownst to him, would change everything.

He awoke the next morning with a headache. Not a terrible one, as he had been sensible enough to drink plenty of water the night before, but enough to make the day a little less pleasant. He stumbled into the bathroom, still partially asleep and looked in the mirror. He determined that he looked about the same as he felt, which was not a good sign. He took a shower in an attempt to rejoin the civilized world and, after a shave and a comb through his hair, he declared himself looking presentable even if he did not feel it. He made a mental note: mild dehydration and lack of sleep make work days considerably worse. Nevertheless, he managed to get dressed, complete with matching suit and tie, and be out the door only a few minutes late.

The bus ride was no more pleasant than getting up. It seemed today everyone had coordinated beforehand to listen to particularly irritating pop music and sit at opposite ends of the bus shouting at one another. On any other day Tim would have probably accepted this for what it was, people trying to get the most of what little remained of summer, but today he was quite sure that it was an elaborate plot to make him miserable.

At the coffee shop, whose line-up was unbearably long for no discernible reason, he ordered an extra shot with his latte with the vain hope that somehow the power of caffeine might be enough to counteract heavy drinking the previous night. He stumbled more than walked across the field, wishing that he could turn the sun down a few notches; it was obnoxiously bright that particular morning. When he arrived at the office he prepared his things for the day and then sat staring at the wall for a good fifteen minutes before he could bring himself to get anything done.

After he had pulled himself together he continued his work from the previous day, compiling the list of which of his clients would go to which advisers. What yesterday had seemed simple today felt tedious and he found himself checking the clock every five minutes, astounded that no more time had passed. After a couple hours spent on the list, he decided to take a break from the monotony to call some of his clients and advise them of the change. He was sure this part would take longer than making the list as many of them would ask the same questions and have the same apprehensions about changing to a new adviser. Regardless, Tim managed to get through five phone calls by the time lunch rolled around and was satisfied with his diligence.

He walked over to the far end of campus to a slightly quieter area where one of his favourite sushi restaurants was located. He liked it not only because they made good sushi, which was certainly true, but also because it wasn’t terribly busy during lunch and he knew he could enjoy his meal in peace. He was quickly seated at a booth and ordered a bento box and beer without even glancing at the menu. He assured himself that the day would have to go up from there and a full stomach would present things in a better light.

It was true that his headache was mostly gone and the coffee had taken effect. His grumbling now was mostly left over from earlier in the morning and generally unfounded. A waitress brought him some green tea and miso soup which helped matters a great deal. As he drank his tea he was able to let go of the morning and move forward, remembering that he only had a few days left before being totally free of his job. That thought, along with his Chicken Teriyaki, which arrived at roughly the same time, put him in a good mood.

Uncharacteristically, he took the time to eat his lunch slowly and enjoy it rather than rushing back to the office as was his custom. When he did finally head back, it was with a positive outlook for the rest of the day and a smile on his face. He managed to be much more productive and found that time passed much more quickly when he was in a good mood.

He finished up the list and got through several more phone calls, which were generally faster and easier than he had feared; with the exception of one older gentleman who was a little bit deaf and seemed convinced that Tim was trying to sell him something. After 20 minutes of essentially repeating himself, the man seemed to finally understand what was going on, but then when he was saying goodbye mentioned seeing Tim for an appointment next week. This meant Tim had to start over again, explaining that he would no longer be there next week and that another adviser would be taking over from him. Eventually, the man understood and Tim hung up the phone after talking for 43 minutes.

While the phone call took a lot of energy, Tim remained in good spirits, particularly as his work day was drawing to a close. He took a break to go talk to his coworkers and hand out the finalized lists of which of his clients they would be responsible for. He was a bit surprised as to how good natured they were about being given a significantly bigger workload, he wasn’t sure that he would be so considerate if the situation was reversed. He checked his email and saw that he had received a response regarding the t-bird. The mechanic that he had contacted had inspected it and determined that it was in very good condition for its age and certainly drivable with no parts visibly worn out.

This further improved his day and he excitedly called the owner to complete the transaction. All details were settled, contingent on payment arriving, and the car would be shipped out on Monday. Tim allowed himself the satisfaction of picturing himself driving it, the sound of the engine revving, the radio turned up sailing along the empty streets. He could hardly wait.

It was almost 4:00pm and Tim decided that he had been sufficiently productive for the day and would leave early. The weather was so nice out that he decided to walk home through the endowment lands. It wasn’t the quickest way, but this was one of the few times of year that the trails weren’t mud and so he could properly enjoy the forest while it was still there to be enjoyed.

He walked slowly through the trails, taking various different paths, gradually zigzagging in the general direction of his apartment. He was going to listen to some music on his iPod but thought the better of it and instead enjoyed the relative quiet of the woods. The cover was so thick that very little light got through the tree tops and Tim enjoyed the smells and sights of the cool forest. Apart from the occasional jogger or dog walker, there weren’t very many other people around that day, despite the idyllic conditions. Tim wondered why he didn’t take more advantage of being so close to such a wonderful place, the same way he wondered why he didn’t go to the beach more often or go up to the mountains.

He arrived home and in a surprising feat of motivation decided to actually make use of his gym membership. After having another shower and getting changed into his gym clothes, he drove into the heart of kits, parked underneath the gym, and headed upstairs. If asked, he would have been hard pressed to say why he had picked this gym in particular, in a city full of over-zealous gym users, but he had. While it certainly wasn’t convenient to walk to from his place, it did have the advantage of generally not being very busy which meant Tim didn’t have to wait for equipment.

It seems important at this juncture to note that ‘going to the gym’ can mean different things to different people. For some, it means a training regime balancing cardio, muscle definition and flexibility combined with a carefully chosen diet that promots lean muscle mass and lower blood pressure. For Tim it usually meant using the treadmill at a leisurely pace until he felt tired, possibly lifting the very lightest free-weights and then puzzling at some of the machines, quite certain that actually using them was an invitation to injury, before calling it a day and going home.

One this particular day, however, he was determined to improve himself, so in addition to his usual fare he sat down on the machine that looked sort of like a rhinoceros after moving a few pins and tightening some screws. He pulled down on a large, black, metal bar directly above him but found it wasn’t inclined to move. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was supposed to and he simply wasn’t strong enough, or if there was some other method in which it was supposed to be manipulated. Eventually, he determined that he could push it out, if not up, and proceeded to do so a few times before calling it a day. Pleased with himself and clearly sweating, he headed back to his car and drove home.

After all that physical exertion and productivity he felt that he deserved a treat so he proceeded to find the number to order pizza. He took his phone out from his coat pocket and was about to dial the number when he saw that he had a missed call from the previous night. Surprised not to have noticed before now, he called in to his voicemail and was informed he had a new message.

“Hello Mr. Harding, Matthew Arnold calling, I am afraid I have some bad news for you. Please give me a call back as soon as you get this message 555-823-6101. Thanks.”