The Fourteen Day Soul Detox, Volume Two by Rita Stradling Page A

phone after the first ring.
    “You’ve reached Nicole
Murphy’s office,” a woman’s voice said.
    “Hello, is this Harrington’s
corporate office?”
    “Yes, but this is not the main
line, would you like me to transfer you?”
    “I’m not sure. My name is
Jamie Scott, someone from your company sent me an offer on my coffee
shop a week ago. Actually, they sent in two offers, but it’s
really hard to read the signature,” I said.
    “If it was an offer, it was
probably from the company’s broker, but just give me a moment
and I’ll check with Ms. Murphy since you were given her direct
line.”
    “Thanks,” I said.
    Crackly classical musical played over
the line, sounding suspiciously like Beethoven. A smooth sounding
voice came over the line, “Harrington’s Coffee Shops,
they’re more than just coffee shops, they’re your home
away from home.” Then the crackly Beethoven continued. After
another couple seconds of butchered classical music, the sound
silenced.
    “Hello,” the same woman’s
voice said.
    “Hi,” I said.
    “I’m connecting you through
to Nicole. One moment please,” she said.
    “You’ve reached Nicole,”
a low, feminine voice said.
    “Hello, my name is Jamie Scott,
I—”
    “I know, Clara told me. You’re
calling about the offer I sent to you a week ago. This is for the
shop downtown, right? The Coral Beach shop?”
    “Yeah,” I said.
    “And you’re willing to
sell?”
    Sighing, I said, “I think so. I
definitely want to set up a meeting if that’s possible.”
    “It is. What time works for you?”
she said.
    “The best time would be tomorrow
at eight, if that’s at all possible?” I said.
    “At the shop?” she asked.
    “We could, but it’s pretty
loud and busy here in the morning,” I said.
    “Could you make it to Harrington
Corporate offices? We’re about fifteen minutes North?”
    “I could make it at
eight-fifteen,” I said.
    “Could you give me one second,
Jamie?” she asked.
    “Of course,” I said, and
was rewarded with more distorted classical music, this time Mozart.
    After about five minutes, the line went
silent and Nicole said, “Jamie?”
    “Yeah?” I asked.
    “Eight-fifteen works just fine
for us, we’ll see you here. Do you know our address?” she
asked.
    “Is it eight four three Sea
Breeze Way?” I read off the offer form.
    “That’s it exactly. Take
the elevator to the third floor then come straight back and my
receptionist will help you.”
    “Okay, I’ll see you then.
I’ll have a property lawyer with me, if that’s okay? I’m
not sure if you’re aware, but there’s a judgment lien on
the property—”
    “We’re aware,” she
said.
    “Alright, well, he’s going
to help me figure out how to transfer. If I do transfer—that
is.”
    “That should be fine,” she
said.
    “Oh, good, thank you,” I
said.
    “See you then,” she said
before the line went dead.

Day
Three: One-thirty

    After calling back Mr. Hamm and telling
his assistant about the meeting’s time and place. I walked back
into the shop and behind the counter. I pressed the button for the
final receipt and as the long tape printed out, I texted Chris.

    Me: I
might have to come in an hour late tomorrow for a meeting with the
company that made the offer. Is that going to be okay?

    Almost instantly, my phone rang,
Chris’s number flashing on the screen. “I’m so
sorry Jamie,” he said in a low, raspy voice that didn’t
sound much like him.
    “Oh, no, are you okay?”
    “I think I’m sick, it just
suddenly came on,” he said.
    “Oh no, Chris! I’m so
sorry,” I said.
    “I don’t think I’m
going to be able to make it tomorrow,” he said.
    “Oh, of course not. Is there
anything I can get you?”
    “Melissa is at the store now, she
left work early,” he said. “I really hope I didn’t
get you or any of the customers sick.”
    “I feel fine, I’m sure
everyone is fine. Just take it easy and call me if you don’t
feel better on