With his younger sister, Maggie, Jack Sinclair grew up in a
typical Midwestern subdivision. At age 8, Jack and his family relocated to a Grand
Rapids (Michigan) suburb because of their father’s job. The first
kid Jack met was Drew Campbell who knocked his block off, just to get the point across
that he was in charge of the neighborhood. That’s how their lifelong friendship began. The two boys
were inseparable, except for camping and Boy Scouts. Whereas Drew bailed out of
Cub Scouts after a disastrous first campout, Jack earned every badge and became
an Eagle Scout. Of course, he did. Jack always finished what he started.
Jack and Drew were college roommates and only after
graduation did they go their separate ways—Drew as a lawyer and Jack, an
accountant. Five years ago, Jack left a big accounting firm and with his friend
Ben Voorheis formed a partnership. They each had their own clients. But when
Ben’s motorcycle accident sidelined him, Jack took over.
Numbers never lie. They were black and white, no in-between.
That suited Jack perfectly. He liked when things made sense. Which made his audit of his partner’s client disturbing. Certain
things didn’t make sense. If what he feared was true, he and Ben were in big
trouble.
Here are a few snippets from Maggie’s point of view
that give you a glimpse into Jack’s personality:
His combination
Christmas and birthday gift to her a couple of years ago was a sophisticated
sound system. After he set it up, he’d left detailed—printed, no
less—instructions for its use. That was Jack. Always covering the bases. Heaven
forbid, he leave anything to chance. Even his sister’s CD player.
She looked
around Jack’s perfectly neat living room. She always complained that he’d taken
minimalism to new heights. Nothing, not even dust, marred the surface of the
lamp table. No knickknacks, no forgotten glass or coffee cup. Magazines neatly
stacked on the coffee table. The yellow National
Geographic provided a splash of color next to copies of The CPA Journal.
All perfectly normal, perfectly Jack.
As she turned
to leave, she saw that the pantry door wasn’t firmly shut. Nothing inside
appeared to be disturbed. Everything looked the way it always did, cans and
jars lined up perfectly straight, an inch from the edge of each shelf.
Categorized. Vegetables with vegetables, pasta sauce next to alfredo sauce. She
didn’t bother to check the spices. They’d be in alphabetical order. Her OCD
brother wouldn’t have it any other way.
Are you intrigued? I hope so. As you can see from the
progress meter on the right of this blog, I’m over 2/3 finished with
Unpredictable Nature. Come back next Sunday for another snippet from the first
chapter. Next Monday, I’ll share a little about Jack’s business partner, Ben. Have a great week.
Sounds great, Diane. Someone I love suffers from OCD, but other than the movie "As Good As It Gets," which featured a pretty extreme case, I haven't seen the disorder highlighted in fiction.
ReplyDeleteI'll be interested in reading more about Jack.
Remember Monk? Jack isn't that bad.
Delete