He said, “I ended up just driving back home and brainstorming about my plans. I think I want to get involved in throwing some. But I’ll tell you about that later. So call me back when you get in.”

Catherine wouldn’t let him off the phone that easy. “What, you’re talking about throwing your own parties now? Is that what you’re talking about?”

Ivan figured he had said enough at the office already. He declined further comment.

“I’ll tell you about it later when you get in. I have a staff meeting this morning.”

Catherine backed off. “Okay.”

Ivan wouldn’t mind running his party promotion ideas past her for a pros-and-cons discussion, he just didn’t want to do so while he was still at work.

IT WAS AFTER TEN O’CLOCK and the tax staff meeting had not yet started. Dwayne Bellamy was having a long, closed-door conference with the supervisors. Since Ivan didn’t want to start on anything new that he would need to break away from, he idled doing nothing before the meeting.

He then eyed Mike Adams, an accountant from the audit department, who was working feverishly at his station. Mike was still in his midtwenties, married, with a young child, and had not taken the state exam yet. But he was sure to pass it. He was all work and no play. He took his job very seriously.

Chip noticed Ivan watching Mike and walked over to make a comment on it.

“That guy’s going to work his damn fingers to the nub, right?” he joked to Ivan loud enough to be heard.

Ivan chuckled.

Mike overheard them laughing at him. “I heard that,” he commented. “But you’re both gonna be happy to have someone like me on your side one day.”

Chip said, “Oh, I’m already happy you’re on my side, buddy. I’m ready to pass you some of my work right now.”

Ivan grinned it off before heading to the men’s bathroom down the hall. It was right across the hallway from Barry Mitchell’s corner office. The partner had his office door wide open that morning while he chatted with another future account, a young Filipino man.

“You know how the government finds a way to tax and ride the proverbial backs of the middle class?” Mitchell asked the young Filipino rhetorically.

Ivan had heard it all from his silver-haired, well-dressed, black-Mercedes-driving boss before. Barry Mitchell was the partner who liked to talk. John Hutch, on the other hand, talked a lot less. Ivan didn’t expect the young man inside the office to get many words in as he sat in the tall, comfortable leather chair across from Mitchell’s king-sized desk. Hutch had even joked that maybe his partner should have been more of a financial advisor than a tax man, since he liked to talk so much.