The next morning, Bette passed James’ desk on the way in to her office.  “Good morning.”  She said without stopping.  “Could you please pull my contract for me and bring it in?  Also, James, I’d like for you to call a meeting of the Board.  Schedule for the first available day that we have a quorum.  Doesn’t matter if everyone can’t make it.  First, see if you can reach Bert.  I need to speak with him a.s.a.p.”

James blinked.  Bette had come in like a storm offshore, pounding down hard, fast, and without warning.  “Ohh-kay.”  The writing was on the wall and James had been doing office work long enough to know that one of the first things he’d do after completing Bette’s tasks would be to log on to the ‘LA Times’ site and click on ‘Careers.’  Bette was leaving and he could very well be out of a job.

Bette slid her door open and walked purposefully to her desk, dropping her briefcase onto the glass top.  She was just sitting when James walked in holding the contract.  “Ah, good.  Thank you,” she said reaching for it.

“Sure.”

“Give me fifteen minutes before trying Bert.  I just want to read through it before I talk to him.  If he’s going to be using a load of legalese, I’d best have some idea what he’s talking about.”

_____

Twenty minutes later, Bette removed her glasses and flattened the papers when James informed her that Bert, the California Arts Center lawyer was on the line.

Bette took a deep breath and although he couldn’t see her, she put on her game face before pressing the button to connect with him.  “Bert, good morning.  Hot enough for you?”  She laughed.

“I’d rather be in Cancun.  If I have to be in 90 degree temperatures, let it be on a beach with gorgeous bodies catering to my every whim,” he responded cheerfully.

“Umm.  That does sound nice.”  Bette wondered if Bert’s idea of a gorgeous body came equipped with pecs and chest hair or *****.  “I know Franklin’s probably keeping you busy on a dozen other tiny projects, so I’m calling to give you a heads up…”