I made a special effort not to look for Ellis in the halls. Because he’s engaged and utterly, absolutely, unequivocally unavailable. QUIRC gave me everything I asked for: the salary, an experienced paralegal, the additional private “meditation” space, the supply of No. 1 Ticonderoga pencils, use of the car service, club memberships, and an allowance for my Krav Maga training. The office manager, Bailey, showed me to my roomy office with leather, stainless steel, and glass furniture. She said, “I took the liberty of ordering a few paintings to cheer up the room, but you can replace them with whatever you like.” Was I supposed to know anything about art? I should have watched Sister Wendy at the Norton Simon Museum instead of the Big Valley marathon, but I couldn’t resist a show with golden California hills, a gallant lawyer, a leather-clad brawler, and gun-slinging Barbara Stanwyck. I said, “The pictures are really nice, Bailey. Thank you.” She showed me a small refrigerator hidden in a credenza.
