item simply did not exist.
Alert in the carriage next to her distracted brother, Isabella sniffed her offense. It was poor form for Wanda to deprive the cat of the opportunity to win another staring contest.
The elevator door finally closed, sealing them all inside. Wanda shifted her weight, focusing her attention squarely on the niece, who squirmed before offering a forced greeting.
“Morning, Wanda.”
The niece sensed she’d walked into a premeditated ambush. Wanda must have been hanging out downstairs—for who knew how long—waiting to pounce.
Wanda cut to the point.
“Isn’t it time you hired an intern?”
“An intern?” the niece sputtered. She’d guessed Wanda had some sort of agenda that morning, but she hadn’t expected this. “Why would I hire an intern?”
Wanda blew out a dismissive
pfft
as if the answer was obvious. “Every mayor has at least one intern. It’s in the rule book, dear.”
Ah, the rule book
, the niece thought sourly.
Of course.
The oft-cited rule book was trotted out any time the niece did anything outside the norm or, more specifically, failed to follow Wanda’s interpretation of the established protocol. Despite making several requests, the niece had never actually seen the vaunted text. She suspected the rule book only existed in Wanda’s head.
In past conversations, the niece had struggled to counter Wanda’s rule book trump card. Being a newcomer to the ranks of City Hall’s administrative staff, she was at a distinct disadvantage in such debates.
But in this instance, the niece figured she had an irrefutable exception.
“Yes, well, uh, we’ve decided to put off getting an intern for now . . . you know, because of what happened to the last one.”
The elevator opened to the second floor, and the niece shoved the cat stroller out into the foyer.
Surely the specter of the last murdered intern would put a stop to Wanda’s meddling, at least on this issue.
Not wanting to extend the discussion, the niece sped to the front entrance of the mayor’s office suite. As she pulled out her key to unlock the door, she looked over her shoulder and gave the other woman a limp wave.
Wanda shot back a pout before stomping off toward the supervisor’s wing on the opposite end of the building.
—
THE NIECE WHEELED the cat stroller into the reception area, unzipped the net cover, and got to work on the preparations for Monty’s event.
She assumed she’d successfully deflected Wanda on the intern issue—until Monty walked into the office an hour later.
He stopped to visit briefly with Rupert (who was asleep) and Isabella (who gave him an icy stare), before turning toward the niece’s desk. He twiddled his fingers in the air, as if searching for the appropriate words to convey his wishes.
It was then that the niece realized she had underestimated Wanda.
The other secretary had done an end run around her and targeted the mayor directly—through her own boss, the president of the board of supervisors.
Monty was nothing if not highly prone to suggestion.
He pumped his thin eyebrows and leaned across the desk.
“So . . . when are we going to hire an intern?”
Chapter 25
CUTTHROAT COMPETITION
INFORMATION TRAVELED FAST through City Hall’s marbled corridors. Spats between supervisors, the forging of secret political alliances, even the day’s selection of soups that would be available in the rotunda vendor cart—all of these details circulated efficiently among the inhabitants of the domed building.
Word of the mayoral intern opening disseminated at lightning speed.
By midafternoon, the niece had received a six-inch-high stack of résumés from interested applicants.
That the last person to hold the job had been brutally murdered had done little to dampen interest in the position. Short-term memory was apparently an innate survival instinct for those with political aspirations.
The niece flipped through the pages of carefully typed cover letters,
Alert in the carriage next to her distracted brother, Isabella sniffed her offense. It was poor form for Wanda to deprive the cat of the opportunity to win another staring contest.
The elevator door finally closed, sealing them all inside. Wanda shifted her weight, focusing her attention squarely on the niece, who squirmed before offering a forced greeting.
“Morning, Wanda.”
The niece sensed she’d walked into a premeditated ambush. Wanda must have been hanging out downstairs—for who knew how long—waiting to pounce.
Wanda cut to the point.
“Isn’t it time you hired an intern?”
“An intern?” the niece sputtered. She’d guessed Wanda had some sort of agenda that morning, but she hadn’t expected this. “Why would I hire an intern?”
Wanda blew out a dismissive
pfft
as if the answer was obvious. “Every mayor has at least one intern. It’s in the rule book, dear.”
Ah, the rule book
, the niece thought sourly.
Of course.
The oft-cited rule book was trotted out any time the niece did anything outside the norm or, more specifically, failed to follow Wanda’s interpretation of the established protocol. Despite making several requests, the niece had never actually seen the vaunted text. She suspected the rule book only existed in Wanda’s head.
In past conversations, the niece had struggled to counter Wanda’s rule book trump card. Being a newcomer to the ranks of City Hall’s administrative staff, she was at a distinct disadvantage in such debates.
But in this instance, the niece figured she had an irrefutable exception.
“Yes, well, uh, we’ve decided to put off getting an intern for now . . . you know, because of what happened to the last one.”
The elevator opened to the second floor, and the niece shoved the cat stroller out into the foyer.
Surely the specter of the last murdered intern would put a stop to Wanda’s meddling, at least on this issue.
Not wanting to extend the discussion, the niece sped to the front entrance of the mayor’s office suite. As she pulled out her key to unlock the door, she looked over her shoulder and gave the other woman a limp wave.
Wanda shot back a pout before stomping off toward the supervisor’s wing on the opposite end of the building.
—
THE NIECE WHEELED the cat stroller into the reception area, unzipped the net cover, and got to work on the preparations for Monty’s event.
She assumed she’d successfully deflected Wanda on the intern issue—until Monty walked into the office an hour later.
He stopped to visit briefly with Rupert (who was asleep) and Isabella (who gave him an icy stare), before turning toward the niece’s desk. He twiddled his fingers in the air, as if searching for the appropriate words to convey his wishes.
It was then that the niece realized she had underestimated Wanda.
The other secretary had done an end run around her and targeted the mayor directly—through her own boss, the president of the board of supervisors.
Monty was nothing if not highly prone to suggestion.
He pumped his thin eyebrows and leaned across the desk.
“So . . . when are we going to hire an intern?”
Chapter 25
CUTTHROAT COMPETITION
INFORMATION TRAVELED FAST through City Hall’s marbled corridors. Spats between supervisors, the forging of secret political alliances, even the day’s selection of soups that would be available in the rotunda vendor cart—all of these details circulated efficiently among the inhabitants of the domed building.
Word of the mayoral intern opening disseminated at lightning speed.
By midafternoon, the niece had received a six-inch-high stack of résumés from interested applicants.
That the last person to hold the job had been brutally murdered had done little to dampen interest in the position. Short-term memory was apparently an innate survival instinct for those with political aspirations.
The niece flipped through the pages of carefully typed cover letters,
Similar Books
