compliance.”
“Don’t get me wrong. Vince is a great guy. I work for him, you know.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He owns the Qwik-E Markets— one here and one up in Trillium. Grange is a great guy, too. I’ve worked with him on the Opening Festival committee.”
Mandy took a bite of cheese and chewed while her mind assimilated the information. “How did you come to work for Vince?”
“I was managing a convenience store down in Arizona across from a building he was taking down. He’d come in for coffee as they were working on the setup, and we’d visit. That was about the time he bought the Qwik-E Market here, and he asked me to come work for him. That was three years ago.”
“How did you make the transition from the Southwest?”
Fran laughed as she got up and began clearing the table. “I wore a coat and wool socks for the first year, summer and winter, but I’ve acclimated. I don’t think I’ll ever go back. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever leave Limestone.”
As they cleaned the kitchen, Mandy listened to Fran recount the story of the first little rental she bought and how she had lived in it as she renovated around herself. Buoyed by Fran’s good natured and down-to-earth manner, Mandy felt less alone by the time they drove back to the Qwik-E Market. She thanked Fran again, got in her own car, and headed back to the district office with a determination to prove her worth.
She walked in to find the reception desk empty. As she climbed the stairs, she made a mental list of what she wanted to accomplish that afternoon. Grange wasn’t in his office, and Mrs. Berman frowned as she passed, but Mandy’s mood was too light to be daunted. She smiled at the secretary and stepped to her own door.
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, for the room was alight with yellow. A dozen plastic buckets of daffodils were scattered around the office. They were on the desk, atop the filing cabinets, on the deep windowsills, even on the floor. Mandy laughed aloud in delight.
She stepped in, closed the door, and looked around. An envelope stuck in the bouquet on her desk caught her eye, and she opened it, knowing the author before she saw the bold signature. It read, A little artificial sunshine for your day, and was signed simply, Vince.
Mandy could have danced. She clasped the card in both hands and held it to her heart, smiling as she closed her eyes and twirled on her toes. She was still smiling as she opened her eyes and confronted the contorted face of Grange Timberlain standing in her doorway.
The sight of that one expressionless, staring eye disturbed her more than his lowering brow and turned-down mouth, and it lingered in her memory, fighting with the daffodils for precedence, long after he had turned on his heel and stalked into his office.
MANDY WOKE THE next morning after the first night in her new house. She stretched and sat on her knees by the balustrade above the living room. Resting her arms on the railing, she looked through the tall windows at the vista spread out beyond. The river looked like a steel-gray ribbon winding around a spreading bouquet of Douglas fir and rosy-brown alder. Above the river, fog lay in a fluffy white stratum, like an eiderdown that had been shaken out and was floating down to cover the bed again.
Mandy got up, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and opened the sliding glass door that let onto the back balcony. After stepping out into the chilly air, she looked around. She had worked late the previous afternoon, reading files, meeting with Mo Smith, and planning strategy, and it was dark by the time she headed downriver for groceries. When she had returned to her unlit house, she hadn’t been able to see anything more than the dim outline of the mountains across the way.
Now, in the morning light, she saw that the forest began about fifty feet behind her cabin. Looking to the right, she could see how the land sloped away in a gentle grade down to where
“Don’t get me wrong. Vince is a great guy. I work for him, you know.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He owns the Qwik-E Markets— one here and one up in Trillium. Grange is a great guy, too. I’ve worked with him on the Opening Festival committee.”
Mandy took a bite of cheese and chewed while her mind assimilated the information. “How did you come to work for Vince?”
“I was managing a convenience store down in Arizona across from a building he was taking down. He’d come in for coffee as they were working on the setup, and we’d visit. That was about the time he bought the Qwik-E Market here, and he asked me to come work for him. That was three years ago.”
“How did you make the transition from the Southwest?”
Fran laughed as she got up and began clearing the table. “I wore a coat and wool socks for the first year, summer and winter, but I’ve acclimated. I don’t think I’ll ever go back. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever leave Limestone.”
As they cleaned the kitchen, Mandy listened to Fran recount the story of the first little rental she bought and how she had lived in it as she renovated around herself. Buoyed by Fran’s good natured and down-to-earth manner, Mandy felt less alone by the time they drove back to the Qwik-E Market. She thanked Fran again, got in her own car, and headed back to the district office with a determination to prove her worth.
She walked in to find the reception desk empty. As she climbed the stairs, she made a mental list of what she wanted to accomplish that afternoon. Grange wasn’t in his office, and Mrs. Berman frowned as she passed, but Mandy’s mood was too light to be daunted. She smiled at the secretary and stepped to her own door.
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, for the room was alight with yellow. A dozen plastic buckets of daffodils were scattered around the office. They were on the desk, atop the filing cabinets, on the deep windowsills, even on the floor. Mandy laughed aloud in delight.
She stepped in, closed the door, and looked around. An envelope stuck in the bouquet on her desk caught her eye, and she opened it, knowing the author before she saw the bold signature. It read, A little artificial sunshine for your day, and was signed simply, Vince.
Mandy could have danced. She clasped the card in both hands and held it to her heart, smiling as she closed her eyes and twirled on her toes. She was still smiling as she opened her eyes and confronted the contorted face of Grange Timberlain standing in her doorway.
The sight of that one expressionless, staring eye disturbed her more than his lowering brow and turned-down mouth, and it lingered in her memory, fighting with the daffodils for precedence, long after he had turned on his heel and stalked into his office.
MANDY WOKE THE next morning after the first night in her new house. She stretched and sat on her knees by the balustrade above the living room. Resting her arms on the railing, she looked through the tall windows at the vista spread out beyond. The river looked like a steel-gray ribbon winding around a spreading bouquet of Douglas fir and rosy-brown alder. Above the river, fog lay in a fluffy white stratum, like an eiderdown that had been shaken out and was floating down to cover the bed again.
Mandy got up, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and opened the sliding glass door that let onto the back balcony. After stepping out into the chilly air, she looked around. She had worked late the previous afternoon, reading files, meeting with Mo Smith, and planning strategy, and it was dark by the time she headed downriver for groceries. When she had returned to her unlit house, she hadn’t been able to see anything more than the dim outline of the mountains across the way.
Now, in the morning light, she saw that the forest began about fifty feet behind her cabin. Looking to the right, she could see how the land sloped away in a gentle grade down to where
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