Page 1 of Due South

Chapter One

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December 18th

Lucy

“Deck the hallswith boughs of holly, fa lalala, lalala.”

This is what I mutter under my breath while I look over the latest report for Phoenix. We’ve been working there less and less over the past few years since India did such a great job in the first place, but Greg Wu still calls us for technical assistance or things outside the normal scope of work for his office. Even though we cost a pretty penny, sometimes it’s worth it for him to pay us for six hours of work that might take his staff sixteen. Or sixty, for that matter.

“’Tis the season to be jolly…”

If India were travelling, I’d have my headphones on. I can see the blinking lights on my phone if people call or buzz, but sometimes my boss likes to shout. Not in a yelling way—not so much anymore, anyway—but in a “I have ten thousand things going on in my brain and this is easier” kind of way.

Speaking of India, it’s about time for her next cup of coffee. I don’t know how that woman hasn’t dissolved her stomach with how much she drinks, but I suspect she’s only half-human. Maybe her digestive tract is one of the cyborg parts.

“Don we now our gay apparel, falala lalala lalala.”

I’m about to push back from my desk when my phone rings. Must stop singing Christmas songs and do my job. I shouldn’t resent the pause on my holiday cheer since I’ll hear so many carols when I go home to Iowa I’ll be relieved when they stop playing on the twenty-sixth. Just a few more days until I get on a plane.

Although, I shouldn’t get too excited. I look forward to going home and seeing my family, but I know as soon as I get there, it won’t be as great as I remember it. Nostalgia has a way of covering up some of the reasons I wanted to leave in the first place.

But first…

“Good morning, Burke Consulting Group. This is Lucy.”

“Hi, Lucy, it’s Greg Wu from Phoenix. How are you?”

I like Greg, and it amuses me that though I’ve been speaking with him on and off for five years, he still feels the need to use his whole name and remind me where he’s calling from. Sometimes I want to say, “Greg, I’ve seen pictures of you, your husband, and your kids at a Diamondbacks game. I know you’re Greg Wu from Phoenix.”

But maybe he realizes how busy the office is and that I get dozens of calls every day and doesn’t want to put either of us in the awkward position of me not remembering him. I appreciate that. The small gesture throws another fluffy pom pom on the pile of how much I like Greg.

“Hi, Mr. Wu. I was just looking over the kindergarten report.”

When India had first signed on to the Phoenix contract, she’d recommended dropping free universal kindergarten, and it was one of the things Greg hadn’t wanted to do. But after several years of belt-tightening and rearranging and thinking about ways to increase tax revenue in the city, we’ve got some news he’ll be thrilled with. I should let India be the one to tell him, but when he asks, “And how does it look?” what am I supposed to say? Not answer at all?

“It’s looking pretty good.”

There’s a shout of joy on the other end of the line and then a clatter. What the heck happened? But then Greg’s back.

“Sorry, dropped the phone while doing my fist pump. That’s great. And you know, you can call me Greg.”

“You could stop introducing yourself every time you call. You’re our only client named Greg.” And one of my favorites. He’s goofy—exhibit A) the fist pump that was so enthusiastic it made him drop the phone, and B) that he admitted it—he’s always nice to me, and he’s one of the few clients India genuinely enjoys working with, so talking to Greg puts her in a good mood. Mostly. Today, it will for sure. “Hold on and I’ll put you through to India.”

“Thanks, Lucy, and Merry Christmas. You headed to Iowa?”

“Yes, sir. Are you and the family going to Minnesota?”

“Yes, and I can’t wait for proper winter weather. Boots, mittens, hats, a muffler for goodness’ sake!”

His enthusiasm for cold weather gear makes me laugh. I feel the same way—I’ve been gazing longingly at the box of scarves and gloves and earmuffs I keep on the top shelf of my closet, untouched except for when I go home.

“Me too. Hope you have a good holiday.”

“Thanks. You too.”

And with that, I put him through to India, who should be occupied at least long enough for me to get her coffee. Her foot probably hasn’t started tapping yet, but it will soon if I don’t soothe the beast. What does she do to keep herself an appropriate level of caffeinated when she’s on the road? Or at home?

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