Seventeen Minutes on Route 18 Wrecked an Eighteen-Million-Dollar Corporate Buyout
I didn’t want you to have to ask for one.”
“Thank you.”
She clicked her ballpoint pen four times and didn’t leave.
“There are people coming at noon,” she said.
“I have to print name tents, and nobody will give me the names.”
“Print them blank.”
“I did.” She clicked again.
“That’s the part I don’t like.”