Mike looked around the house. It was something of a mess. The TV was going, and Tiffany and Henry were making some noise. "If this is business, maybe ...e'd better go downstairs," he suggested. "It'll be quieter there." Sure," Heather said. "Fine with me."As they passed through the kitchen, Mike asked Kirsten to make some coffee, and have Tiffany bring three cups downstairs. The three of them went down to the basement, to the cluttered little room that Mike used as a home office. "What can I do. She towered over me, leaning on her balled fists, her nostrils flaring and her eyes blazing as she regarded me like I was some hideous insect that had the impertinence to emerge from under a stone, spoiling her fancy garden party."It's Mrs. Smith to you, you... you..." it was obvious she was too angry to think straight."Good morning to you then, Mrs. Smith," I interrupted deadpan, knowing full well how much I was irking her. "Now what can I do for you this lovely, sunny morning?" I need. More

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