use the visitors’ lot now when I do research here.” But his smile was friendly. “It’s good to see you, Louise, and to meet Nela.” His nod was gracious.
Robbie managed a smile for Nela. “Thanks for filling in for Chloe. I hope you’ll enjoy your time with us.”
The two men walked toward the front doorway, Robbie leading. As Robbie opened the heavy door, a gust of cold air swirled inside. Erik Judd’s cape billowed.
Louise turned back to Nela and picked up their conversation as if there had been no interruption. “Rosalind will buzz you about midmorning Monday to deliver the mail. She’ll have everything sorted. Start with Miss Webster.”
Clearly, Louise had no intention of discussing Erik and Robbie or explaining the odd emphasis on the visitors’ lot.
“Now”—Louise sounded brighter—“let’s look at the east wing.”
Nela’s grasp of who worked where was hazy. However, there was no doubt of the pecking order. Miss Webster had the big front office at the west end of the central hall. Whoever worked in the east front office must also be a major player.
Nela gestured at the door. “Is that the director’s office?”
Louise drew in a sharp breath. “That was the office of our chief operating officer. She passed away last week. A dreadful accident.”
Nela felt a moment of surprise that Marian Grant had outranked the foundation director in status. “Miss Grant’s office?”
Louise stared at her, eyes wide.
Of course, Chloe hadn’t bothered to explain where Nela would stay so Louise was startled by Nela’s knowledge. “I spent the night at Miss Grant’s apartment. Since Chloe e-mailed with Miss Grant’s sister in Australia about arranging matters here, Chloe volunteered to stay in the apartment and take care of Miss Grant’s cat until a home is found for him. I’m there while Chloe’s gone.”
Unless,
she qualified in her mind,
someone tries to break in again.
Nela almost told Louise about the entry in the night, but the secretary was staring at the office door in such obvious distress Nela didn’t want to add to her unhappiness. Certainly if she grieved for her lost coworker, it would upset her more to think the dead woman’s home had been invaded. And it would be unkind to ask Louise to take care of the Coach bag. A woman’s purse is very personal and Louise would have seen the bag many times.
“Her belongings”—Louise’s voice shook a little—“need to be gathered up. Perhaps you can take care of that for us. I’ll arrange for some cartons. I can’t bear to think about it. Her personal trinkets…” She stopped and pressed her lips together. Louise cleared her throat. “We need to find out if Marian’s sister wants to have everything stored or shipped to her or perhaps disposed of.” She paused, said dully, “Disposed of…It’s dreadful to talk of Marian’s belongings that way. She was such a competent person. She knew everything. I don’t know how the foundation will manage without her. Her death is a huge loss. And to think of Marian of all people falling from her stairs! Marian skied and jogged and climbed mountains. She wasn’t the least bit clumsy.” Her voice quivered withemotion, almost a touch of anger, as if Marian Grant had let them down. “But there’s nothing we can do about it.”
S teve Flynn slid into the last booth in a line of red leatherette booths at Hamburger Heaven. On a Sunday night, choice for dinner in Craddock was limited to the usual suspects: McDonald’s, Sonic, Braum’s, Applebee’s, Olive Garden. The hometown restaurants closed after Sunday brunch except for Hamburger Heaven.
The crowd was sparse. Sunday was a family evening. Steve was getting used to eating out alone. He dipped a French fry in the side of ranch dressing that he always ordered with his cheeseburger. He felt a flicker of amusement. Living on the wild side, ranch dressing instead of Heinz. His hand froze midway to his mouth.
A dark-haired woman in her
Robbie managed a smile for Nela. “Thanks for filling in for Chloe. I hope you’ll enjoy your time with us.”
The two men walked toward the front doorway, Robbie leading. As Robbie opened the heavy door, a gust of cold air swirled inside. Erik Judd’s cape billowed.
Louise turned back to Nela and picked up their conversation as if there had been no interruption. “Rosalind will buzz you about midmorning Monday to deliver the mail. She’ll have everything sorted. Start with Miss Webster.”
Clearly, Louise had no intention of discussing Erik and Robbie or explaining the odd emphasis on the visitors’ lot.
“Now”—Louise sounded brighter—“let’s look at the east wing.”
Nela’s grasp of who worked where was hazy. However, there was no doubt of the pecking order. Miss Webster had the big front office at the west end of the central hall. Whoever worked in the east front office must also be a major player.
Nela gestured at the door. “Is that the director’s office?”
Louise drew in a sharp breath. “That was the office of our chief operating officer. She passed away last week. A dreadful accident.”
Nela felt a moment of surprise that Marian Grant had outranked the foundation director in status. “Miss Grant’s office?”
Louise stared at her, eyes wide.
Of course, Chloe hadn’t bothered to explain where Nela would stay so Louise was startled by Nela’s knowledge. “I spent the night at Miss Grant’s apartment. Since Chloe e-mailed with Miss Grant’s sister in Australia about arranging matters here, Chloe volunteered to stay in the apartment and take care of Miss Grant’s cat until a home is found for him. I’m there while Chloe’s gone.”
Unless,
she qualified in her mind,
someone tries to break in again.
Nela almost told Louise about the entry in the night, but the secretary was staring at the office door in such obvious distress Nela didn’t want to add to her unhappiness. Certainly if she grieved for her lost coworker, it would upset her more to think the dead woman’s home had been invaded. And it would be unkind to ask Louise to take care of the Coach bag. A woman’s purse is very personal and Louise would have seen the bag many times.
“Her belongings”—Louise’s voice shook a little—“need to be gathered up. Perhaps you can take care of that for us. I’ll arrange for some cartons. I can’t bear to think about it. Her personal trinkets…” She stopped and pressed her lips together. Louise cleared her throat. “We need to find out if Marian’s sister wants to have everything stored or shipped to her or perhaps disposed of.” She paused, said dully, “Disposed of…It’s dreadful to talk of Marian’s belongings that way. She was such a competent person. She knew everything. I don’t know how the foundation will manage without her. Her death is a huge loss. And to think of Marian of all people falling from her stairs! Marian skied and jogged and climbed mountains. She wasn’t the least bit clumsy.” Her voice quivered withemotion, almost a touch of anger, as if Marian Grant had let them down. “But there’s nothing we can do about it.”
S teve Flynn slid into the last booth in a line of red leatherette booths at Hamburger Heaven. On a Sunday night, choice for dinner in Craddock was limited to the usual suspects: McDonald’s, Sonic, Braum’s, Applebee’s, Olive Garden. The hometown restaurants closed after Sunday brunch except for Hamburger Heaven.
The crowd was sparse. Sunday was a family evening. Steve was getting used to eating out alone. He dipped a French fry in the side of ranch dressing that he always ordered with his cheeseburger. He felt a flicker of amusement. Living on the wild side, ranch dressing instead of Heinz. His hand froze midway to his mouth.
A dark-haired woman in her
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