“Is the internet already set up?” I asked.

“It’s completely wired,” David said.

“All you do is plug in your laptop.”

My phone buzzed on the Formica table right beside my coffee cup.

Sarah Mitchell’s office number was flashing on the screen.

“I need to take this call,” I told David.

“Get me the signed form by eleven,” David said, and his screen went dark.

I carried my cold paper coffee cup out into the carpeted lobby and picked up the call.