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THE MAYOR'S WIFE--NEW CHAPTER 1

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  • marti tucker
    Hello everyone, thank you for your wonderful interest in my novel, The Mayor s Wife, you have been so encouraging and helpful. I m really new at sending
    Message 1 of 4 , Mar 31, 2004
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      Hello everyone,
       
      thank you for your wonderful interest in my novel, The Mayor's Wife, you have been so encouraging and helpful.  I'm really new at sending anything on the Internet.  So I made a big flubber by using attachments. Please forgive me.  Won't happen again.
       
      Here is my new chapter.  Give me your thoughts.  And you all know that I try to give meaningful and often tough critiques on your work, not because I don't love you or your work, but because I want you to get published.  so please do the same for me.
       
      Marti Tucker  
       
       

      CHAPTER 1

       Somebody did it�or covered it up. Which one?  Indigo Tate�s brain repeated what her husband had said before he left home that morning.  If he, the mayor, got an answer soon, she could still make the Beverly Hills luncheon.  Hurry up! She begged silently.   But her eyes smiled up at the mayor, and then darted to the round clock on the wall above his head.  It was 1:32 in the afternoon and the second hand kept moving forward. 

       Mayor Mel Tate, seated in an orange high back on the platform, studied each elected official and staff member as they filed past him.  Their steps sounded hollow against the City Council chambers� gray slate floor; their faces were filled with tension.  If one of them would give any indication of what her husband was looking for, even by some guilt-driven flutter of the eyes, a quiver of the lip, or a slight uncertainty of stride, the meeting would soon be over, and she could still make it to Beverly Hills on time. 

      But the city attorney, city clerk, city manager, and four councilmen ambled to the descending rows around her.  City employees straggled in later.  They�re too laid back to be suspected, Indigo thought. It�s a curse to be stuck here.  She smiled, even while her restlessness discreetly hid under her folded hands.  City staff members continued pouring into the chambers.
                  "Morning, Mayor.�

      �Mr. Mayor.�

      �Good day, Mayor."
                   Mel Tate's face was that of an ancient general engrossed in the strategy of war. Camel colored flesh fell into creases at the side of his eyes and veins protruded around his temples. But his six-foot-three-inch frame was meticulously dressed in a navy suit with a white kerchief peeking from the breast pocket.  His demeanor was certainty.   Indigo felt uncomfortable in the pinkish Chanel that made her appear far too fashionable for the occasion.  Her translucent chocolate skin and chiseled face was that of a cosmopolitan girl�s glow, moist and smoothly buffed.  Dark tumbling curls framed that face and fell into the shape of a bowl, all which said she didn�t belong. The city mothers had hinted that she should dress down more for the sake of her husband's position, but Indigo was a thirty-six-year-old black socialite, yet unfilled, and in the prime of her life.  She wouldn�t hear of it.

      When Mayor Mel Tate rapped the gavel, Indigo stiffened.  The disturbing sound killed any possibility of her sneaking out.  Oh, hurry up.  She clutched her purse, and then released it when her husband stood.  Then he was a monument standing on the podium.
                  "Staff, council, and elected officials, I�ve called this emergency meeting so I can

       get the report I've been asking for over six weeks."  He glared over the crowd.

      The audience leaned in to each other and she could hear their hushed monotones.  Papers shifted and crackled.  Indigo was hit guilt for wearing the suit, for even being seduced by her shop-a-holism that always kept her credit card balances far too high.  Imperceptibly, she smiled at Mel and tilted her head to the side, feigning deep concern and interest.  But I�m the one stuck in this heel of Los Angeles� leftovers. Compton, California.  Her body rocked the thought from side to side, an unnoticeable act of agreement.

      The southern border of Los Angeles was the one place she didn�t want to be.  Why didn�t God just pick me up and set me down in the middle of Beverly Hills?  I�ve earned me a Master�s in Urban Planning, a rare profession for a black woman.  I married the brilliant lawyer.  And I still got stuck in Compton, California.  She sighed without anyone noticing her boredom.  

      Mel moved to center stage. "The buck has to stop here.  I�ve asked you individually where the report is, and I can�t get an answer.  So we�re all together at one time.  So where is my report?�
                   City Manager, Robert Robinson, a small man with a perky face and distinguished voice, sprang to his feet and bowed in gratuitous respect. "Mr. Mayor, we're waiting on the spread sheets from accounting." Staff behind him nodded in agreement.
                 "That's called an excuse, Mr. Robinson," Mel said. "Which tells me you need to sit on accounting until you have it.  Don�t you realize that if the press gets hold of the fact I�m not privy to some problem with this big project, they�ll light in on it like a bee hive."
                  "Mayor Mel, CRA was on retreat and�" 

       "Which was more important, the retreat or the report?"
                 While Robinson paused, Mel lowered his eyes to the desk calendar. "Ok.
      Let's extend the date to September 7." He scribbled. "A week from day, I won�t accept anything less than original vouchers, with every tenth of a dollar accounted for. With

      every  �I� dotted and every  �T� crossed. Or I'll call for an outside audit to get what I can�t seem to get."

                  �But Mr. Mayor�� Robinson said.

      So inappropriate was Robinson�s timing that a spontaneous shiver came over Indigo, even in the eighty-degree heat.  She felt like the Mohave without air conditioning.   Mel tilted forward and blew like the freight train that divided the in half, warning everything in sight to get out of its way  "Don�t you understannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!

      Indigo knew that something in her life had just changed, forever.

       


       

       



      Watch for LIVING IN THE MIRACLE ZONE by Marti Tucker


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    • Mindy Kasper
      Here are some of my suggestions. I really liked it. You do great charicterizations. I can t wait to read more of it. I do have some questions; Why had
      Message 2 of 4 , Apr 1, 2004
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        Here are some of my suggestions.  I really liked it.  You do great charicterizations.  I can't wait to read more of it.  I do have some questions;  Why had something changed at the end of the story?  (seemed kind of like the same old excuse making to me)  What is so important about the report?  I am interested in what she thinks about her husband.  Thanks for letting me read!!
         
        Mindy
         
        CHAPTER 1

         Somebody did it�or covered it up. Which one?  Indigo Tate�s brain repeated what her husband had said before he left home that morning.  If he, the mayor, got an answer soon, she could still make the Beverly Hills luncheon.  Hurry up! She begged silently.   But her eyes smiled up at the mayor, and then darted to the round clock on the wall above his head.  It was 1:32 in the afternoon and the second hand kept moving forward. 

         Mayor Mel Tate (the way you say this makes me think you are changing viewpoints from her to her husband), seated in an orange high back on the platform, studied each elected official and staff member as they filed past him.  Their steps sounded hollow against the City Council chambers� gray slate floor; their faces were filled with tension.  If one of them would give any indication of what her husband was looking for, even by some guilt-driven flutter of the eyes, a quiver of the lip, or a slight uncertainty of stride, the meeting would soon be over, and she could still make it to Beverly Hills on time. 

        But the city attorney, city clerk, city manager, and four councilmen ambled to the descending rows around her.  City employees straggled in later.  They�re too laid back to be suspected, Indigo thought. It�s a curse to be stuck here.  She smiled, even while her restlessness discreetly hid under her folded hands.  City staff members continued pouring into the chambers.
                    "Morning, Mayor.�

        �Mr. Mayor.�

        �Good day, Mayor."
                     Mel Tate's face was that of an ancient general engrossed in the strategy of war. (love the discription) Camel colored flesh fell into creases at the side of his eyes and veins protruded around his temples. But his six-foot-three-inch frame was meticulously dressed in a navy suit with a white kerchief peeking from the breast pocket.  His demeanor was certainty. (Cliche - perhapse expand or take out)  (new paragraph?) Indigo felt uncomfortable in the pinkish Chanel that made her appear far too fashionable for the occasion.  Her translucent chocolate skin and chiseled (? makes me think of rock - I usually think of cosmopolitan skin as silky and soft) face was that of a cosmopolitan girl�s glow, moist and smoothly buffed.  Dark tumbling curls framed that face and fell into the shape of a bowl, all which said she didn�t belong. The city mothers had hinted that she should dress down more for the sake of her husband's position, but Indigo was a thirty-six-year-old black socialite, (run on) yet unfilled, and in the prime of her life.  She wouldn�t hear of it. (love the way you do discriptions - so alive)

        When Mayor Mel Tate rapped(?) the gavel, Indigo stiffened.  The disturbing sound killed any possibility of her sneaking out (when did she think about this?).  Oh, hurry up.  She clutched her purse, (new sentance?) and then released it when her husband stood.  Then (take out then) he was a monument standing on the podium.
                    "Staff, council, and elected officials, I�ve called this emergency meeting so I can (sounds akward)

         get the report I've been asking for over six weeks."  He glared over the crowd.

        The audience leaned in to each other and (take out and) she could hear their hushed monotones.  Papers shifted and crackled.  Indigo was hit guilt for wearing the suit, for even being seduced by her shop-a-holism that always kept her credit card balances far too high.  (why did she feel this way becouse of the silence?) Imperceptibly, she smiled at Mel and tilted her head to the side, feigning deep concern and interest.  But I�m the one stuck in this heel of Los Angeles� leftovers. Compton, California.  Her body rocked the thought from side to side, an unnoticeable act of agreement.

        The southern border of Los Angeles was the one place she didn�t want to be.  Why didn�t God just pick me up and set me down in the middle of Beverly Hills?  I�ve earned me a Master�s in Urban Planning, a rare profession for a black woman.  I married the brilliant lawyer.  And I still got stuck in Compton, California.  She sighed without anyone noticing her boredom.  

        Mel moved to center stage. "The buck has to stop here (seems a bit cliche for a mayor).  I�ve asked you individually where the report is, and I can�t get an answer.  So (take out so) we�re all together at one time.  So (take out so)where is my report?�
                     City Manager, Robert Robinson, a small man with a perky face and distinguished voice, sprang to his feet and bowed in gratuitous respect. "Mr. Mayor, we're waiting on the spread sheets from accounting." Staff behind him nodded in agreement.
                   "That's called an excuse, Mr. Robinson," Mel said. "Which tells me you need to sit on accounting until you have it.  Don�t you realize that if the press gets hold of the fact I�m not privy to some problem with this big project, they�ll light in on it like a bee hive (I got lost with this sentance)."
                    "Mayor Mel, CRA was on retreat and�" 

         "Which was more important, the retreat or the report?"
                   While Robinson paused, Mel lowered his eyes to the desk calendar. "Ok.
        Let's extend the date to September 7." He scribbled. "A week from day, I won�t accept anything less than original vouchers, with every tenth of a dollar accounted for. With

        every  �I� dotted and every  �T� crossed. Or I'll call for an outside audit to get what I can�t seem to get."

                    �But Mr. Mayor�� Robinson said.

        So inappropriate was Robinson�s timing that a spontaneous shiver came over Indigo, even in the eighty-degree heat.  She felt like the Mohave without air conditioning.   Mel tilted forward and blew like the freight train that divided the in half, warning everything in sight to get out of its way  "Don�t you understannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!

        Indigo knew that something in her life had just changed, forever.



        Mindy Kasper

        Visit my homepage at
        http://www.geocities.com/starsekker


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      • marti tucker
        you ll have to read farther to find the mystery of what changed and why. Indigo is a selfish club woman in the beginning of the novel and changes greatly over
        Message 3 of 4 , Apr 3, 2004
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          you'll have to read farther to find the mystery of what changed and why.  Indigo is a selfish club woman in the beginning of the novel and changes greatly over the stretch of the novel.  You are just at the door of this world, and in the next chapters, it will unfold. The whole story is based on the report.
           
          Thanks so much for the advice on wanting to know what she thinks about her husband, a good call. 
           
          marti

          Mindy Kasper <starsekker@...> wrote:
          Here are some of my suggestions.  I really liked it.  You do great charicterizations.  I can't wait to read more of it.  I do have some questions;  Why had something changed at the end of the story?  (seemed kind of like the same old excuse making to me)  What is so important about the report?  I am interested in what she thinks about her husband.  Thanks for letting me read!!
           
          Mindy
           
          CHAPTER 1

           Somebody did it�or covered it up. Which one?  Indigo Tate�s brain repeated what her husband had said before he left home that morning.  If he, the mayor, got an answer soon, she could still make the Beverly Hills luncheon.  Hurry up! She begged silently.   But her eyes smiled up at the mayor, and then darted to the round clock on the wall above his head.  It was 1:32 in the afternoon and the second hand kept moving forward. 

           Mayor Mel Tate (the way you say this makes me think you are changing viewpoints from her to her husband), seated in an orange high back on the platform, studied each elected official and staff member as they filed past him.  Their steps sounded hollow against the City Council chambers� gray slate floor; their faces were filled with tension.  If one of them would give any indication of what her husband was looking for, even by some guilt-driven flutter of the eyes, a quiver of the lip, or a slight uncertainty of stride, the meeting would soon be over, and she could still make it to Beverly Hills on time. 

          But the city attorney, city clerk, city manager, and four councilmen ambled to the descending rows around her.  City employees straggled in later.  They�re too laid back to be suspected, Indigo thought. It�s a curse to be stuck here.  She smiled, even while her restlessness discreetly hid under her folded hands.  City staff members continued pouring into the chambers.
                      "Morning, Mayor.�

          �Mr. Mayor.�

          �Good day, Mayor."
                       Mel Tate's face was that of an ancient general engrossed in the strategy of war. (love the discription) Camel colored flesh fell into creases at the side of his eyes and veins protruded around his temples. But his six-foot-three-inch frame was meticulously dressed in a navy suit with a white kerchief peeking from the breast pocket.  His demeanor was certainty. (Cliche - perhapse expand or take out)  (new paragraph?) Indigo felt uncomfortable in the pinkish Chanel that made her appear far too fashionable for the occasion.  Her translucent chocolate skin and chiseled (? makes me think of rock - I usually think of cosmopolitan skin as silky and soft) face was that of a cosmopolitan girl�s glow, moist and smoothly buffed.  Dark tumbling curls framed that face and fell into the shape of a bowl, all which said she didn�t belong. The city mothers had hinted that she should dress down more for the sake of her husband's position, but Indigo was a thirty-six-year-old black socialite, (run on) yet unfilled, and in the prime of her life.  She wouldn�t hear of it. (love the way you do discriptions - so alive)

          When Mayor Mel Tate rapped(?) the gavel, Indigo stiffened.  The disturbing sound killed any possibility of her sneaking out (when did she think about this?).  Oh, hurry up.  She clutched her purse, (new sentance?) and then released it when her husband stood.  Then (take out then) he was a monument standing on the podium.
                      "Staff, council, and elected officials, I�ve called this emergency meeting so I can (sounds akward)

           get the report I've been asking for over six weeks."  He glared over the crowd.

          The audience leaned in to each other and (take out and) she could hear their hushed monotones.  Papers shifted and crackled.  Indigo was hit guilt for wearing the suit, for even being seduced by her shop-a-holism that always kept her credit card balances far too high.  (why did she feel this way becouse of the silence?) Imperceptibly, she smiled at Mel and tilted her head to the side, feigning deep concern and interest.  But I�m the one stuck in this heel of Los Angeles� leftovers. Compton, California.  Her body rocked the thought from side to side, an unnoticeable act of agreement.

          The southern border of Los Angeles was the one place she didn�t want to be.  Why didn�t God just pick me up and set me down in the middle of Beverly Hills?  I�ve earned me a Master�s in Urban Planning, a rare profession for a black woman.  I married the brilliant lawyer.  And I still got stuck in Compton, California.  She sighed without anyone noticing her boredom.  

          Mel moved to center stage. "The buck has to stop here (seems a bit cliche for a mayor).  I�ve asked you individually where the report is, and I can�t get an answer.  So (take out so) we�re all together at one time.  So (take out so)where is my report?�
                       City Manager, Robert Robinson, a small man with a perky face and distinguished voice, sprang to his feet and bowed in gratuitous respect. "Mr. Mayor, we're waiting on the spread sheets from accounting." Staff behind him nodded in agreement.
                     "That's called an excuse, Mr. Robinson," Mel said. "Which tells me you need to sit on accounting until you have it.  Don�t you realize that if the press gets hold of the fact I�m not privy to some problem with this big project, they�ll light in on it like a bee hive (I got lost with this sentance)."
                      "Mayor Mel, CRA was on retreat and�" 

           "Which was more important, the retreat or the report?"
                     While Robinson paused, Mel lowered his eyes to the desk calendar. "Ok.
          Let's extend the date to September 7." He scribbled. "A week from day, I won�t accept anything less than original vouchers, with every tenth of a dollar accounted for. With

          every  �I� dotted and every  �T� crossed. Or I'll call for an outside audit to get what I can�t seem to get."

                      �But Mr. Mayor�� Robinson said.

          So inappropriate was Robinson�s timing that a spontaneous shiver came over Indigo, even in the eighty-degree heat.  She felt like the Mohave without air conditioning.   Mel tilted forward and blew like the freight train that divided the in half, warning everything in sight to get out of its way  "Don�t you understannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!

          Indigo knew that something in her life had just changed, forever.



          Mindy Kasper

          Visit my homepage at
          http://www.geocities.com/starsekker


          Do you Yahoo!?
          Yahoo! Small Business $15K Web Design Giveaway - Enter today

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        • Sam
          Marti, I m glad to see you got the attachment problem worked out. I ve place comments below. My feeling is that you ll have to make some kind of transition now
          Message 4 of 4 , Apr 5, 2004
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            Marti,
            I'm glad to see you got the attachment problem worked out. I've place
            comments below. My feeling is that you'll have to make some kind of
            transition now between this chapter and the one you previously posted
            as Chapter Two in which Indigo goes to her cousin's dress shop, but
            this is much preferred to the prologue.

            Sam

            --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, marti tucker <writelink3@y...> wrote:
            > Hello everyone,
            >
            > thank you for your wonderful interest in my novel, The Mayor's Wife,
            you have been so encouraging and helpful. I'm really new at sending
            anything on the Internet. So I made a big flubber by using
            attachments. Please forgive me. Won't happen again.
            >
            > Here is my new chapter. Give me your thoughts. And you all know
            that I try to give meaningful and often tough critiques on your work,
            not because I don't love you or your work, but because I want you to
            get published. so please do the same for me.
            >
            > Marti Tucker
            >
            >
            > CHAPTER 1
            >
            > Somebody did it…or covered it up. Which one? Indigo Tate's brain
            repeated what her husband had said before he left home that morning.
            If he, the mayor, (take out ", the mayor," got an answer soon, she
            could still make the Beverly Hills luncheon. Hurry up! She begged
            silently. But her eyes smiled up at (replace "the mayor" with Mayor
            Mel Tate) the mayor, and then darted to the round clock on the wall
            above his head. It was 1:32 in the afternoon and the second hand kept
            moving forward.
            >
            > (This seems to shift POV to the mayor, but it really doesn't. You
            should probably say something like "Indigo watched at the mayor,
            seated ...")Mayor Mel Tate, seated in an orange high back on the
            platform, studied each elected official and staff member (filing
            rather than "as they filed) as they filed past him. Their steps
            sounded hollow against the City Council chambers' gray slate floor;
            their faces were filled with tension. If one of them would give any
            indication of what her husband was looking for, even by some
            guilt-driven flutter of the eyes, a quiver of the lip, or a slight
            uncertainty of stride, the meeting would soon be over, and she could
            still make it to Beverly Hills on time.
            >
            > But the city attorney, city clerk, city manager, and four councilmen
            ambled to the descending rows around her. City employees straggled in
            later. They're too laid back to be suspected, Indigo thought. It's a
            curse to be stuck here. She smiled, even while her restlessness
            discreetly hid under her folded hands. City staff members continued
            pouring into the chambers.
            > "Morning, Mayor."
            >
            > "Mr. Mayor."
            >
            > "Good day, Mayor."
            > Mel Tate's face was that of an ancient general
            engrossed in the strategy of war. Camel colored flesh fell into
            creases at the side of his eyes and veins protruded around his
            temples. But (you don't need But) his six-foot-three-inch frame was
            meticulously dressed in a navy suit with a white kerchief peeking from
            the breast pocket. (Delete the next sentence) His demeanor was
            certainty. Indigo felt uncomfortable in the pinkish Chanel that made
            her appear far too fashionable for the occasion. Her translucent
            chocolate skin and chiseled face (Chiseled doesn't sound like the
            Indigo we in your earlier posts) was that of a cosmopolitan girl's
            glow, moist and smoothly buffed. Dark tumbling curls framed that face
            and fell into the shape of a bowl, all which said she didn't belong.
            The city mothers had hinted that she should dress down more for the
            sake of her husband's position, but Indigo was a thirty-six-year-old
            (The description tells us her race. You don't need to say she's black
            here.) black socialite, yet unfilled, and in the prime of her life.
            She wouldn't hear of it.
            >
            > When (the mayor) Mayor Mel Tate rapped the gavel, Indigo stiffened.
            (Delte the next sentence) The disturbing sound killed any possibility
            of her sneaking out. Oh, hurry up. She clutched her purse, and then
            released it when her husband stood. Then (You don't need Then) he was
            a monument standing on the podium.
            > "Staff, council, and elected officials, I've called this
            emergency meeting so I can
            >
            > get the report I've been asking for over six weeks." He glared
            over the crowd.
            >
            > The audience leaned in to each other and she could hear their hushed
            monotones. Papers shifted and crackled. Indigo was hit (I don't
            understand. Hit WITH guilt?) guilt for wearing the suit, for even
            being seduced by her shop-a-holism that always kept her credit card
            balances far too high. Imperceptibly, she smiled at Mel and tilted
            her head to the side, feigning deep concern and interest. But I'm the
            one stuck in this heel of Los Angeles' leftovers. Compton, California.
            Her body rocked the thought from side to side, an unnoticeable act of
            agreement.
            >
            > The southern border of Los Angeles was the one place she didn't want
            to be. Why didn't God just pick me up and set me down in the middle
            of Beverly Hills? I've earned me a Master's in Urban Planning (Take
            out everything after the comma and end the sentence here.), a rare
            profession for a black woman. I married (a, not the) the brilliant
            lawyer. And I still got stuck in Compton, California. She sighed
            without anyone noticing her boredom.
            >
            > Mel moved to center stage. "The buck has to stop here. I've asked
            you individually where the report is, and I can't get an answer. So
            we're all together at one time. So (Take out So) where is my report?"
            > City Manager,(no comma here) Robert Robinson, a small
            man with a perky face and distinguished voice, sprang to his feet and
            bowed in gratuitous respect. "Mr. Mayor, we're waiting on the spread
            sheets from accounting." Staff behind him nodded in agreement.
            > "That's called an excuse, Mr. Robinson," Mel said. "Which
            tells me you need to sit on accounting until you have it. Don't you
            realize that if the press gets hold of the fact I'm not privy to some
            problem with this big project, they'll light in on it like a bee hive.
            (Odd expression. Is is actually used or did you make it up?)"
            > "Mayor Mel, CRA was on retreat and—"
            >
            > "Which was more important, the retreat or the report?"
            > While Robinson paused, Mel lowered his eyes to the desk
            calendar. "Ok.
            > Let's extend the date to September 7." He scribbled. "A week from
            day (today), I won't accept anything less than original vouchers, with
            every tenth of a dollar accounted for. With
            >
            > every `I' dotted and every `T' crossed. Or I'll call for an
            outside audit to get what I can't seem to get."
            >
            > "But Mr. Mayor—" Robinson said.
            >
            > So inappropriate was Robinson's timing that a spontaneous shiver
            came over Indigo, even in the eighty-degree heat. She felt like the
            Mohave without air conditioning. Mel tilted forward and blew like
            the freight train that divided the in half, warning everything in
            sight to get out of its way "Don't you
            understannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn! (?")
            >
            > Indigo knew that something in her life had just changed, forever.
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            > Watch for LIVING IN THE MIRACLE ZONE by Marti Tucker
            >
            > ---------------------------------
            > Do you Yahoo!?
            > Yahoo! Finance Tax Center - File online. File on time.
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