Chapter 1

(Author’s note: Ok, so maybe I played a little with the geography in Manhattan. Some locations may be as described, or not. NYPD’s attitude toward personal freedom of expression may not be as casually freewheeling as my characters might assume. As usual, forget about anyone resembling anyone in the real world.)

An outside observer might say I was lucky, living the life college kids yearned for after graduation. Maybe, maybe not. The theoretical outside observer might not know I lost my parents to a very wealthy drunk driver while I was in college. The lawsuit, the insurance payout, and the inheritance made me quite rich, even after Dad funded trusts for favorite charities and scholarships. Cold comfort. They might not know I was awarded a master’s in computer science at the ripe old age of twenty from M.I.T., on top of the degree in engineering from NCSU, when it happened. They were coming to celebrate that accomplishment when the wreck left me an orphan.

Though I arranged for a maintenance service, the family place in Asheville sat empty. I just couldn’t live alone there yet. Instead, I used a small fraction of the windfall to buy a five-story brownstone on the Upper Westside and started a one-man computer consulting business. My folks worked hard and achieved their success the hard way and I could do no less. It wasn’t a perfect family, sometimes the road was bumpy and admittedly a little confusing for an only-child, but it worked for us. You could say we made room for each other to be people. It was a lesson in gently guided independence and self-reliance, learned early. I wanted, rather, I needed to stay busy and earn my way rather than live off the sudden money. Anything else would not be right.

Less than a year later, I was showing one of my search engines to an old thesis advisor and I thought he was going to have a seizure. The old guy insisted I take a few more math classes and another software design course. They were offered on line, but I had to take the exams on campus in Boston. Guess what? The clever bastard enrolled me on a PhD program behind my back!

He prodded me into writing a paper on the research that went into developing the algorithms of my original searchbots. I applied for and got the patents, submitted the paper and, at twenty-one, became an accidental Doctor of Philosophy in Software Design.

I always suspected he secretly hoped I would just submit the paper and the university would cosign the patents so his department would make a bunch of money. The old buzzard never admitted it and retired soon after.

So I worked and built a thriving consulting firm over the years, getting a reputation as a no nonsense problem solver, efficient systems designer and emergency go-to-guy. Few people knew I had the doctorate.

Now, at the age of twenty-eight, I suffered the pains of success. I was making myself crazy. The constant work helped me ignore the sense of being alone in the world. Sometimes I played my music to distract myself, but the sense of loneliness was forever in the background. I had more than a few relationships in the past, but that was in the past. Lives intersect, then change. My partners moved on with no regrets on either side. These days, my single-minded drive to build the business eventually drove the music out and ended any social life I might have explored.

Something needed to improve while I could see above the top of my self-created rut.

Today, after getting up way too early, rushing downtown to fix a broken ATM network at a very big bank, trying diplomatically to tell banking executives their IT people were a marginally competent bunch of bozos and trying to get the bozos to worry about wires, not software, I realized I needed help. Not in my business, but in running my life.

I liked things neat. Things were not neat. The nearly empty kitchen, the full message box and the pile of mail waiting at home starkly emphasized the problem when I got back. Solo self-employment ain’t what it’s cracked up to be. You run out of hours. I still had bookkeeping, billing and housekeeping to do, plus the final touches on the new server system ordered by a department store and the training sessions for the employees of the insurance company I just upgraded. Fortunately, I lived on the third and fourth floors of my building. Unfortunately, the day was Wednesday and everything needed to be done by Friday.

The weather sucked eggs, so I stayed in the office the rest of the afternoon, planning the training sessions, calling the insurance people to confirm the appointment times on Friday. Thursday, I could finish the department store job and schedule the installation over the weekend. That took care of Saturday night and Sunday. At least, their staff was briefed and ready for the change. Competent IT people are a blessing.

That left me with a choice: either sleep like a normal person or do the shopping and paperwork. That was not a fun game. I chose to sleep and get help. Some paperwork could wait until Monday and restaurants deliver. I got enough done to survive the week.

The Friday training went smoothly. A similar user interface with more options was the trick. Once the options were explored, the clients were pleased.

The installation at the department store was a bear. We moved the new equipment from my second story assembly and testing area in the morning and spent the rest of the day putting it together in their server farm. After closing time, we took the East Coast stores down and switched the systems out. It went well. Central, Mountain and Pacific zone stores followed. The only glitch was a server crash at a store in San Diego, which delayed the backup. But that was part of the reason the department store wanted the new systems.

We solved the problem and monitored the activity all day Sunday, all time zones until everyone was satisfied. During one of the calm periods, I asked the IT guys if they could recommend a person to be an office assistant and light housekeeper. One told me about his cousin who was working as a temp, trying to support her little sister. She lost her job when the company outsourced her department to India. I got her number.

Andy, the IT guy, said she was pretty smart and, at this point, was willing to do any kind of work to keep her sister and herself from being homeless. “My place is too small and our families live too far away to help. It would help her a lot and take a weight off my shoulders.”

“Andy, I can help her out if she passes the interview and she is willing to be a live-in. There are two bedrooms, living room and large and small bathrooms on the top floor of my building. I can make room and board part of her payment package. I live on the third and fourth floors. My office and equipment occupy the first and second. Can you have her call me Monday? I would rather have a person recommended personally than a stranger responding to a want ad.”

Andy said she would call first thing and we went back to the task at hand. At 6 o’clock the eastern stores closed and the sales summaries, inventory updates and backups went smoothly. So did the other zones. By 11 o’clock we were ready to go home. They planned to pack the old servers up in the morning and send them to me. A smaller operation would be happy to get them once I checked them out and wiped the drives of proprietary information. It was part of my contract.

A late night visit to a Japanese take-out place supplied dinner. Paperwork and mail with one hand and food with the other. I really hoped the interview went well. This routine was getting old.

The ringing phone woke me up at 7:30 AM. Jeez. This better be good. Who calls this early on a Monday? I thought evil thoughts. “Talk to me,” I said into the phone.

“Is this Zephyr Computer Systems? My cousin, Andy, said to call first thing.” A very cheerful voice responded.

“It will be in about an hour and a half. Right now, it’s Mark Allyn and he is almost awake. If you have an ounce of mercy, you will go to the bagel shop near Broadway and 71st, get a dozen assorted, stop at the deli, get some cream cheese and come back at 8. Tell them to put it on Zephyr’s account, mention my name.” I hung up. Her first test.

I hit the bathroom, did the morning checklist, donned jeans and a t-shirt and was downstairs before she pressed the doorbell. I buzzed her in and took the packages to the small kitchen in the rear. “Can you make coffee?” I asked. “I’m not civilized before the first cup and it was a long weekend.”

She answered. “Yes. Where are the makings?”

“In the cupboard over the counter with the coffeemaker. I have to get some stuff from the office. Be right back”

Instead of a standard employment application, I put some blank paper on a clipboard and considered what I knew so far. ‘Quick to do as ordered. Smart, according to Andy. Maybe too prompt, but I can get used to that. Small. Attractive. Young, but responsible enough to support her sister. Makes coffee. OK for now.’

In the kitchen, she had brewed the life giving nectar, poured two cups and set the bagels out on a platter. “Hope you like it black, boss. There is no milk in the refrigerator and no sugar to be found. The platter and spreader were in the cabinet under the coffee machine.”

“Call me Mark. What do I call you?”

“Amy. Short for Amy Marie McGee.” She said, smiling.

“Amy, let’s have some breakfast while you write everything I need to know about you. Application forms are too formal and the job isn’t.”

Her bagel selection was excellent. Point for her. Three everything, three garlic, two cinnamon/raisin, two plain and two onion. One tub of plain cream cheese, one olive/pimento rounded it out. Receipts on the table. Amy had an onion and a cinnamon/raisin. I had an everything and a garlic.

We talked about the job, the business and the building while she filled the paper. “I need an assistant to handle calls, light bookkeeping and easy office work. Mostly, I do it all now. Training will be quick. And, maybe most importantly, I need someone to run the house. Food shopping, bill payments, some cleaning, some laundry and housekeeping.”

Amy handed me the clipboard. “Amy Marie McGee, birthday, SS#, NYU, Art History. 19 years old. Parents divorced, living on West Coast. They left both of us here, on our own. Social services not involved. Recently laid off by publishing company. Living on Lower Eastside. 5’0” tall, 100 pounds. Red hair. Sister, Mary Ellen, 15 years. Neither parent wanted custody.” I read out loud. “You know, most of this information is the sort I am forbidden to ask of a potential employee.”

She nodded shyly.

I reread the sheet. “You are only nineteen and have a degree from NYU?”

“Skipped grades, heavy course loads and summer school. As for the rest, I figured if I was living here, you would find out anyhow.” She said, looking down at the table. It was the first crack in her demeanor. “Are you mad at me?”

“No. I had you do it this way to check your handwriting, spelling and grammar. Too many people depend too much on tech to learn how to do grammar school things. Most cannot even spell. You pass. Any communication going out of this building will be correct and accurate. My reputation depends on precision in all things.” I stated, “You will fill in a regular application form later so the accountant can get you on the payroll and the company credit cards.”

“Does this mean I get the job?” She asked. I found it odd that there was no mention of salary, but let it pass.

“A conditional yes. For now, take the clipboard to the top floor and list what you will need to furnish the space for you and your sister, considering what you already have that can be moved. On the way down, look over each floor, listing how you will maintain, clean or change each room. List necessary supplies. Don’t hold back or second-guess what you think I think. I’m going to check your references, landlord, and previous employer. I should be ready when you get back.”

Amy looked worried. “The landlord is not going to be nice. He seems to want more rent than I am willing to pay. He was happy I was laid off.”

“Well, get started. I will take his opinion with a pound of salt.” I shoo-ed her to the stairs.

Her references gave great reviews. The only negative, and it was slight, was a comment by her previous supervisor. “She did her job perfectly, and more. But Amy let people push her around too much. She wound up doing parts of their jobs, plus hers. Never complained. Be good to her. She is a sweetheart.” The woman seemed quite concerned and was sorry Amy’s job went away.

The landlord made me want to wash my ears. Even if I didn’t hire her, I wanted her out of there. Something about his voice and everything about his attitude pissed me off. There is a reason some people take an instant dislike to others. It saves time. I wasted a whole milisecond on him.

Amy was back by now with the list. “You’re hired. Let’s get you moved, now. Do we need to get a truck or will my little pickup truck do?”

She looked stunned. “Not much to move. The little truck should do. That was fast.”

I took the list, got the keys and called the garage to ready the truck. “They will have it waiting by the time we walk over there. I don’t like your landlord. You and your sister need to be somewhere else.”

After getting the truck, we drove downtown. “The pay is $25,000 to start, plus room and board. Your personal expenses will be nearly zero. In your neighborhood, room and board would be worth another $15,000 per year. In mine, it would cost way more. Full medical and dental. We will have the accountant make it part of the job so it won’t count as taxable income. Your sister might have to pitch in, too.”

We arrived at the shabby tenement, bowled through the landlord and loaded the truck. Most of the furniture was too worn to keep. She did take a new double bed, linens, two chests of drawers and some clothes. I offered to buy out the lease, but the greaseball super never bothered to get one signed. I’ll never get that wasted millisecond back.

“Can we pick up Ellie at school?” Amy pleaded.

“Sure. Get her transcripts and records. We will get her in a school closer to the office. Don’t ask. Tell them to give them to you.”

We collected Ellie and the records then headed for the Upper Westside. Ellie was shocked to find out she had moved uptown. Amy explained the situation as quickly as possible before they got to 68th Street. “The live-in job Andy told us about starts today. You are part of the package.”

The two girls and I moved the three pieces of furniture and the clothes boxes upstairs. I left them to unpack and make the bed then settled in the office to catch up the day’s correspondence. I planned to walk Amy through the process when billing for the two most recent jobs. The rest of the time was spent answering emails, sorting the snail mail and returning calls.

I did get two new installation contracts and two troubleshooting jobs. The installations were in Brooklyn and Yonkers. The troubleshooting could happen online, but the hardware was in Pennsylvania and Maryland. Both were companies I had serviced before.

Two dusty faces peeped around the doorframe. “Can we clean up? Our shower has no towels.” Amy asked timidly.

“There are some in my bath on the fourth floor. Use that one until we buy some more or we do laundry. Dress for a trip out to the markets. We’ll stock the kitchen on the third floor. The one down here is usually used for meetings and business conferences. Not much food storage and the stove is small. Mine is more like a real place to make meals.”

The women left and I finished up for the day by 4:00. Andy called. “I checked over at Amy and Ellie’s apartment and the landlord was annoyed. He said they had moved.”

“Yeah. I did not want them there another minute. I hired Amy already. I think she will fit in nicely. Ellie is still a mystery but seems OK.”

“I am so happy for them. I got promoted and transferred to Chicago today. The store is crazy impressed with the job you did and way impressed with how well we worked as a team. The whole department got raises and I got a whole region to supervise. You made us look good.”

“You are good. Best of all, you know when not to wing it. Your network will not reward errors. Downtime is costly. And you have my telephone number. Use it. It’s part of the contract.” I was using my automatic business bossy tone of voice. “So, what can you tell me about Amy and Ellie? Anything at all will help make the move easier.”

Andy sighed and considered his words carefully before speaking. I noticed. “Does your hesitation have something to do with the lack of a custody effort from their parents? Do I have a problem?”

“No. Not really. Amy is very smart but likes her routine to be planned. She will be the perfect assistant and housekeeper. She will do as you wish if only to make you happy. I think she needs an authority figure to flourish. Her Mom was afraid the Dad would get the wrong ideas about what making him ‘happy’ entailed. Ellie is as smart as Amy, but is a late blooming flirt, pure and simple. Her Mom couldn’t deal with her and the she didn’t trust the Dad. That tension is part of the reason for the divorce. Ellie needs an authority figure to keep her in control. Her Mom can’t be and her Dad shouldn’t be that authority. Is that too much? Maybe I can take them to Chicago.”

“Well, it is a bit more complicated than I expected. I do need help around here and I am committed for the short term. Perhaps, I should have done more homework before today, but I jumped in willingly. What’s done is done. The three of us will have to make it work.”

Andy was relieved. “If you need advice, you have my number. I feel like I’m leaving them in good hands.”

“Bet it felt good to say ‘you have my number’, didn’t it? I’ve said it often enough to you.” I laughed. “I’ll try to muddle through.”

“OK. It did but I’m serious about the girls. Call me if it gets too strange. Not that it will, but you are a bachelor and having two girls in the house is going to be very different. I had sisters. You didn’t. Advantage, me.” Andy returned the chuckle. He promised to deliver the swapped servers by Tuesday morning before he departed for Chicago. We disconnected.

In a few minutes the girls trooped in, ready to shop. Three hours and two trips later, I was glad we parked the truck on the street. They had food to survive the apocalypse, new clothes for both girls, linens, towels and mysterious toiletries. Plus, bedroom furniture, a living room set, laptops, lamps and other assorted accessories to be delivered tomorrow.

“Glad that’s over with” I sputtered when they got the truck unloaded. “You put the stuff away while I take the truck back to the garage. See you later.”

“Where do I put the groceries?” Amy asked.

“Put them in my, or rather our, kitchen, upstairs. Laundry supplies in the utility room next to the kitchen and your stuff in your space. Arrange the kitchen however you want. You will be doing most of the work in there. I’ll ask if I can’t find something.”

I left them to their own resources and went to the garage, thinking over the next day’s do-list. Item One on the list was what to with the information returned when I confirmed their social security numbers. It wasn’t a deal killer by any means, my heart knew these girls would work out. I let it slide for later.

Get Ellie into school. Officially hire Amy and make a payroll plan. Receive, sort and recondition the new-old servers. Get access to the networks of the remote new accounts. Start plans for the new installations. The list gets bigger. This may take two days I began to think.

I got home, the girls fixed a simple meal of burgers, fries and a salad. They cleaned up and retired for the evening.

The next week went better than expected. Ellie enrolled at the extremely liberal and exclusive Bingham-Hampton Academy, an all girl private school in the neighborhood, with no trouble. She got advanced placement classes and seemed to thrive. They invited her to try out for the gymnastics team. Ellie was happy.

Amy caught on fast as promised. The office stuff came naturally. Housekeeping was light. She cooked for herself and Ellie everyday before. The only change was she was cooking for one more but the kitchen was bigger and more modern. And the food was better.

I did have an awkward, for me, conversation the day my insurance policies came up for renewal. Employee’s Family Plans. I wanted all the major contingencies covered. Prescription coverage, family planning, regular check ups, OB/GYN, pre- and postnatal care, maternity leave, etc. never concerned me before. They did now.