said with a threat in her tone, “ if by some freak of nature he does manage to ‘turn up the heat’ . . .” She popped the broken piece of cookie in her mouth and smirked. “It sure won’t be me who gets burned.”
4
T he dreaded Boston Children’s Aid Society. A silent moan wallowed in Katie’s throat as she stood on its threshold, wishing she were anywhere but here. She smoothed her pleated skirt with sweaty hands while sneaking a nervous glance at the back of her legs to ensure her seams were straight. With a deep draw of air, she hiked her hem to readjust her rolled silk stockings, then allowed the navy material to flounce back to just below her knee. She straightened her shoulders, grateful for the two-inch heels of her new Mary Jane shoes, which helped somewhat in rising to the occasion of working with a pest from her past. She thought of Mr. Luke McGee at the age of fourteen – a little twerp who’d been almost a head shorter than she – and wished the little beggar had never grown an inch. She hiked her chin to summon her confidence. Even so, she’d lay good money on the table that her five foot two could take his six foot three any day of the week. At least mentally. Her lips squirmed into a devious smile.
L EGAL D EPARTMENT . The gold lettering on the bubbled glass door suddenly swam before her, and immediately she wanted to throw up – an effect Cluny McGee obviously had on her. But the die was cast, as her father liked to say, and she supposed there was no turning back now. She sucked in a bolstering swallow of air and put her hand to the knob, holding that very breath until the door squealed open.
She blinked twice, blinded by sunlight streaming in from a wall of imposing windows, each opened wide to the sounds of the city below. Somewhere outside, a jackhammer was grinding, merging with the wailing of a siren and the honk of a horn while an early-morning breeze ushered in the scent of the sea and the distinct smell of asphalt. Above it all rose the click-click of typewriter keys and the faint sound of men’s voices punctuated by laughter.
The office itself, although quite large and rectangular, had a decidedly cozy feel, and Katie couldn’t figure out why. Other than a few spindly potted plants by the windows and several framed city scenes interspersed on various dingy walls, the room was anything but warm. Certainly the dated gray file cabinets lining one side did nothing to help, nor did the three gargantuan wooden desks arranged in a row. Although a warm oak color, each was badly scarred and littered with papers, lending a disheveled air to the already shabby furnishings. To the far right of the room ran a span of three to four office doors, some closed, some beckoning with beams of hazy sunlight spilling forth, as if the glory of God resided within. Or someone cocky enough to think he was God, Katie thought with a shift of her jaw.
“May I help you, miss?”
Katie startled, suddenly aware she was gaping. She stared at the pretty woman who occupied the front desk, then straightened her shoulders and jutted her chin to deflect the heat in her cheeks. “Yes, thank you. My name is Katie O’Connor, your new volunteer for the summer.”
The woman nodded and gave her a polite smile, but Katie thought she detected a glint of humor in her hazel eyes. She rose smoothly from her chair and moved effortlessly around the desk, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “Hello, Katie, we’ve been expecting you. My name is Betty Galetti, and I’m the secretary here.”
Katie stared, totally aware that her jaw was sagging, but she was too stunned to care. Her eyes traveled from the top of the woman’s shimmering auburn hair down to a sleek, shapely torso that flowed into two perfectly formed legs that went on forever. Katie extended a hand while her head tipped up in awe, feeling for all of her five foot two that she’d been stunted at birth. “Pleased to meet you, Betty,” she said with a tone
4
T he dreaded Boston Children’s Aid Society. A silent moan wallowed in Katie’s throat as she stood on its threshold, wishing she were anywhere but here. She smoothed her pleated skirt with sweaty hands while sneaking a nervous glance at the back of her legs to ensure her seams were straight. With a deep draw of air, she hiked her hem to readjust her rolled silk stockings, then allowed the navy material to flounce back to just below her knee. She straightened her shoulders, grateful for the two-inch heels of her new Mary Jane shoes, which helped somewhat in rising to the occasion of working with a pest from her past. She thought of Mr. Luke McGee at the age of fourteen – a little twerp who’d been almost a head shorter than she – and wished the little beggar had never grown an inch. She hiked her chin to summon her confidence. Even so, she’d lay good money on the table that her five foot two could take his six foot three any day of the week. At least mentally. Her lips squirmed into a devious smile.
L EGAL D EPARTMENT . The gold lettering on the bubbled glass door suddenly swam before her, and immediately she wanted to throw up – an effect Cluny McGee obviously had on her. But the die was cast, as her father liked to say, and she supposed there was no turning back now. She sucked in a bolstering swallow of air and put her hand to the knob, holding that very breath until the door squealed open.
She blinked twice, blinded by sunlight streaming in from a wall of imposing windows, each opened wide to the sounds of the city below. Somewhere outside, a jackhammer was grinding, merging with the wailing of a siren and the honk of a horn while an early-morning breeze ushered in the scent of the sea and the distinct smell of asphalt. Above it all rose the click-click of typewriter keys and the faint sound of men’s voices punctuated by laughter.
The office itself, although quite large and rectangular, had a decidedly cozy feel, and Katie couldn’t figure out why. Other than a few spindly potted plants by the windows and several framed city scenes interspersed on various dingy walls, the room was anything but warm. Certainly the dated gray file cabinets lining one side did nothing to help, nor did the three gargantuan wooden desks arranged in a row. Although a warm oak color, each was badly scarred and littered with papers, lending a disheveled air to the already shabby furnishings. To the far right of the room ran a span of three to four office doors, some closed, some beckoning with beams of hazy sunlight spilling forth, as if the glory of God resided within. Or someone cocky enough to think he was God, Katie thought with a shift of her jaw.
“May I help you, miss?”
Katie startled, suddenly aware she was gaping. She stared at the pretty woman who occupied the front desk, then straightened her shoulders and jutted her chin to deflect the heat in her cheeks. “Yes, thank you. My name is Katie O’Connor, your new volunteer for the summer.”
The woman nodded and gave her a polite smile, but Katie thought she detected a glint of humor in her hazel eyes. She rose smoothly from her chair and moved effortlessly around the desk, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “Hello, Katie, we’ve been expecting you. My name is Betty Galetti, and I’m the secretary here.”
Katie stared, totally aware that her jaw was sagging, but she was too stunned to care. Her eyes traveled from the top of the woman’s shimmering auburn hair down to a sleek, shapely torso that flowed into two perfectly formed legs that went on forever. Katie extended a hand while her head tipped up in awe, feeling for all of her five foot two that she’d been stunted at birth. “Pleased to meet you, Betty,” she said with a tone
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