Cranberry Red: A Novel

51. Phillips and the Outreach Office

Ben enjoyed Christmas week. It was his first vacation since taking his new job back in July, and he appreciated not having to deal with a constant flow of problems and questions associated with his new office. Both kids were home from college, and both had done well during the fall semester; Ben was proud of them and he told them so. Josh had one more year in his program at Mid-State Technical College. Beth had slowly accepted that there was nothing wrong with studying to become an auto mechanic, which was Josh’s first love. He had tinkered with everything from an alarm clock he took apart when he was five years old to their old power lawnmower, which he overhauled last summer. Liz, despite some excessive partying her first two years, still got good grades and now was settling down and focusing on her studies and career. It looked promising that she’d be accepted into medical school. Beth had hung her Outstanding Returning Student Award plaque on the hallway wall for all who came into the Wesley home to see. “Way to go, Mom,” she had heard from both of her kids when they saw the award. “Didn’t know you were such a computer whiz,” said Liz, who knew from her mother’s weekly phone conversations what was involved when you enrolled in a degree program at Osborne University. “Now we’ve got to work on Dad,” said Josh. Both of Ben’s kids knew of their dad’s reluctance to learn much about computers, beyond reading his e-mail. 220 Phillips and the Outreach Office 51 221 Phillips and the Outreach Office “Looks like Mom is ahead of you, Dad,” Liz joked. “Seems so,” said Ben, not in the least bothered by his kid’s ribbing about his inadequate computer skills. Ben was scheduled to return to work January 5—to begin a new year, one, he hoped, better than the one just past. The biggest disappointment for Ben, beyond losing his job, was the closing down of the long-standing Ames County Fair. He simply couldn’t believe that the county fair had been eliminated. On the upside, he had a job, a decent-paying one. And his rocky relationship with Beth had improved in recent months with his new job, and with her enrollment in Osborne’s nurse-practitioner program . During the last couple of months he didn’t hear her complain once about his work, or about living way back here “in the sticks,” as she had commonly called Ames County. In fact, she proudly shared information with her friends and coworkers at Ames Memorial Hospital about the important position her husband held with “that prestigious Osborne University.” As Ben’s country friends often told him, “Things could be worse.” Of course they could be better, too. For the past several weeks, Ben had hated going to work. Hated facing the ever-present Brittani, the picture of computer savvy and office arrogance. One of his goals for the new year was to figure out what to do with her. Ben continued questioning whether Osborne’s limited research findings from Cranberry Red warranted as much publicity and promotion as he was asked to give this new “miracle discovery,” as Osborne officials described it. The first Monday morning of the new year, Brittani greeted him with “Just got a call from Dr. Phillips in Oshkosh.” No “Happy New Year.” No “How did your vacation go?” No small talk, only business. That was Brittani. “What’d she want?” Ben had come to dread any communication with Oshkosh; it usually meant some kind of reprimand. “She’s coming over this afternoon. Wants to meet with both of us.” “About what?” “She didn’t say, but she sounded serious.” “She usually is,” Ben said, not looking forward to the meeting. Promptly at one, Sara Phillips strode into the office. She wore her usual formal business suit and carried a slim, brown leather briefcase. “Good afternoon, Brittani,” she said. Her voice was all business. “Let’s meet in Ben’s office.” “You want me in the meeting, too?” Brittani asked. She wondered if she had earlier heard correctly that Phillips wanted to meet with both of them. “Indeed I do,” replied Phillips. “And please place the ‘closed’ sign in the door window, and turn off the outer of...