Read Online Exit Row by Judi Culbertson - Free Book Online Page B

basket of corn, she gave her head a shake.
    â€œAnd they’re originals too.” A woman at a modular gray desk was grinning at her as if she shared Fiona’s feeling. Though plump, she was wearing the white company shirt and a bright yellow jumper with wide straps. She had curly gray hair and small, very white dentures. Her half-glasses made Fiona think of Mrs. Santa Claus. “How can I help you?”
    Get these paintings off the walls. “I’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge. My name’s Fiona Reina.”
    â€œWell, hi, Fiona. Is it about employment?”
    â€œNo. No, I’m not looking for a job. It’s about something that happened. Something important.”
    The woman hesitated. “Why don’t you just wait there a moment?” She motioned to a sectional sofa, a pale salmon and mint-green design. Fiona sank into its comfortable pillows and waited, noticing that the off-white walls were actually wallpaper with a diamond-shaped pattern.
    It was not what she had expected. After the office in Taos, after the way the FAA rep complained about Day Star equipment, Fiona had assumed that they were a no-frills airline, operating out of storefronts and vacant hangars. If their equipment wasn’t up to snuff, why this office? Why the original Gormans?
    The woman behind the desk smiled at her again, but did not pick up the telephone to tell anyone she was there. Fiona imagined her pressing an unseen button for security. Had she given her name when she called yesterday?
    A moment later she heard the wheeze of the heavy door and the staccato click of cowboy boots. A woman hurried past, almost bumping the corner of the reception desk. She looked to be in her late forties, dressed in white jeans and a coral Western-style blouse. Patting her leather shoulder bag, she called, “Wait till Will gets a load of these RPMs!” Her voice was emphatic, but Fiona could not tell if she was upset or jubilant. “And we’re getting another Better Business award.”
    Something about the woman’s twist of golden hair and her drawl were familiar. She knew that voice. As the woman started down the hall, Fiona cried, “Wait!” Her voice ballooned into the room like a loudspeaker announcement.
    The woman whirled around. Her lovely features—wide blue eyes, a small, perfect nose, and sweet mouth with an ancillary dimple—looked affronted.
    â€œYou’re Miss Ginger!”
    It had been years since she’d watched The Jesse Wilcox Show , but when she was eleven, she had waited anxiously for Friday nights. At the ranch, Ginger Lee had acted as the Bar J-G’s den mother. She would gather unhappy young cowboys around the kitchen table and declare, “Now you just tell Miss Ginger all about it.” Then she would proceed to make things right, either by intervening with Jesse, or by giving them her own worldly-wise counsel. Fiona had daydreamed about having the rips and tears of her own life repaired by Miss Ginger.
    And now, here she was! It was like being invited to meet the president.
    â€œI loved you. I wanted you to be my mother!”
    Ginger Lee laughed and moved back toward Fiona, raising her palms in the air. “Guilty as charged. Where did you grow up?”
    â€œOh, you never heard of it. Lamb’s Tongue, Iowa?”
    â€œNo, but I know these small farm towns. I grew up in Nebraska. I left when I was very young, of course.” Her look turned studiedly wistful. “Life disappears so quickly. Please don’t tell me that I ‘haven’t changed a bit.’ ”
    â€œBut you haven’t!” Should she ask for her autograph? No, she was an adult now. “I was devastated when the show ended.”
    â€œSo were we.” Ginger Lee gave her a warm smile, then turned and moved back down the hall.
    â€œYou have a good memory for faces,” the receptionist complimented Fiona. “That show’s been off the