Casey turned her back to the cash desk and leaned tiredly against it. What a week. She was glad it was almost over…. for one reason anyway. She yawned, rubbed her eyes, and picked up the sign-up list for the murder mystery game. “Michael, what do you think we should do? It’s Thursday night already; the game is tomorrow and we haven’t even figured out exactly how we are going to handle it. I’ve got to have a definite time for these entrants by this afternoon or we won’t have any game at all.”
“About what, boss?” Busy cleaning tables in the reading room, he didn’t seem to be paying much attention.
“About the murder mystery game.” Casey’s voice was tinged with impatience. “What have we been talking about for the last half hour?” She snapped.
“Whoa,” Michael stopped what he was doing and leaned against the back of an easy chair. He gave her a surprised look. “You’re sounding a bit tense there Case. You OK?”
“Sorry, this whole gala thing has me really uptight.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I really want it to go off well. It could mean the difference between becoming a real business and remaining a small little sideline that just pays the bills.” She had the grace to look embarrassed: “I guess I’m a little tired too, a bit too much burning the candles at both ends. Sorry Mike.” She smiled apologetically.
“No problem.” He flung his dishcloth down on the nearest table and sauntered over. “Now. How many people do we have?” He turned his attention seriously to the problem of the game.