8
Every month, Rollo got a fat package of paperwork from the CEO of the Wareham Group. During the fire season, he didn't have time for Wareham affairs, so he usually spent the month of November catching up.
He brewed a big pot of coffee and spread the paperwork over the table in the breakfast nook. As soon as he sat down, his left leg, the one that had fractured in the burnover, began to ache. Damn it. The big hiking trip out to the Breton lookout tower was three days away. His leg better not give him trouble then. It always ached when the weather changed.
Or maybe it ached whenever he had to look at spreadsheets.
He had nothing against money—he liked it, and had a few personal investments and donations that meant a lot to him. But hedge funds and leveraged buyouts and all that stuff l
