was
beginning to feel discontent again. The evening out certainly hadn't
lifted her spirits, and it didn't help to realize that her feelings of
restlessness had increased the moment she had seen Ty with Millicent.
While Anne was driving to work the next morning, her
long-suffering, old car at last gave up the ghost. Without any warning
at all of its imminent demise, it simply and quietly went dead while
Anne was waiting for a light to turn green. Despite everything she
tried, the engine wouldn't start again. In the line of traffic behind
her, motorists began to irritably beep their horns. She waved them
around her, as she continued to turn the key in the ignition, but to no
avail. The engine wouldn't even give a sick cough. Luckily, there was a
gas station just down the block, so after glancing at her wristwatch to
see how much time she still had to get to work, she walked for help.
Unfortunately, the station attendants were all busy, and it was nearly
fifteen minutes before one of them was able to help her.
Back at the car a few moments later, the man bent over to
get a better look at the inner workings. Then he straightened again,
shaking his head. "She's an old one, ain't she? Hard to tell what's the
matter with her. Just have to tow her in and take a proper look. But I
have to tell you, miss, an old car like this might take a lot of
fixing. Might cost you more than it's worth."
Anne sighed, then took a pen and a piece of paper from her
purse. "Here's the number where you can reach me all day," she told the
man. "After you get an idea of how much work needs to be done, call me
and we'll decide whether it's worth it."
Nodding, he gave her a sympathetic smile and took the
ignition key she handed him. As he ambled back toward the station to
get the tow truck, Anne rushed across the street to the corner where
the downtown bus stopped. Though it came only a short time later, she
was still twenty minutes late, as she rushed into the modern building
where she worked and took the elevator up.
Manning Consultants occupied the entire seventh floor, and
when Anne swept off the elevator, Betsy, the young brunette
receptionist, grinned cheekily. "Well, will wonders never cease?" she
commented wryly. "I've worked here for nearly a year, and I've never
once seen you come in late, Anne."
"I guess there's a first time for everything," Anne
replied ruefully as she sped past the girl on her way to the carved
double doors that opened into her office. After she hastily tossed her
purse into her desk drawer, she went to open the ice-blue drapes that
covered the tinted glass wall. Light flooded the large room, reflected
in the buffed wood surfaces of her desk and the frames of a matching
sofa and chairs. Pausing to take a deep breath and to swipe back that
aggravating strand of hair, she surveyed her own reflection in the
mirror on the wall above the sofa. Except for the fact that her cheeks
were unusually flushed, she looked normal. After straightening the
skirt of her dark blue suit, she snatched up her steno pad and pencil,
then knocked once on the double doors behind her desk.
Without waiting for a response from within, she entered
Ty's office, smiling apologetically as he looked up from his teakwood
desk and watched her walk toward him. "I'm sorry I'm late, Mr.
Manning," she said, the breathlessness caused by her haste, increasing
considerably as his blue eyes swept a long gaze slowly over her.
"Maybe if you didn't stay out until all hours, you could
get here on time," he practically growled at her, his face hard. "Don't
let this happen again, Anne. I won't tolerate tardiness."
"I do have an excuse," she replied stiffly, biting back an
angry retort. Her cheeks rosy with indignation and chagrin, she glared
back at him. Then, because it was his custom to dictate letters first
thing in the morning, she flounced down on the chair before his desk
and opened her steno pad as she continued tersely, "I want you to know
I'm not late because
beginning to feel discontent again. The evening out certainly hadn't
lifted her spirits, and it didn't help to realize that her feelings of
restlessness had increased the moment she had seen Ty with Millicent.
While Anne was driving to work the next morning, her
long-suffering, old car at last gave up the ghost. Without any warning
at all of its imminent demise, it simply and quietly went dead while
Anne was waiting for a light to turn green. Despite everything she
tried, the engine wouldn't start again. In the line of traffic behind
her, motorists began to irritably beep their horns. She waved them
around her, as she continued to turn the key in the ignition, but to no
avail. The engine wouldn't even give a sick cough. Luckily, there was a
gas station just down the block, so after glancing at her wristwatch to
see how much time she still had to get to work, she walked for help.
Unfortunately, the station attendants were all busy, and it was nearly
fifteen minutes before one of them was able to help her.
Back at the car a few moments later, the man bent over to
get a better look at the inner workings. Then he straightened again,
shaking his head. "She's an old one, ain't she? Hard to tell what's the
matter with her. Just have to tow her in and take a proper look. But I
have to tell you, miss, an old car like this might take a lot of
fixing. Might cost you more than it's worth."
Anne sighed, then took a pen and a piece of paper from her
purse. "Here's the number where you can reach me all day," she told the
man. "After you get an idea of how much work needs to be done, call me
and we'll decide whether it's worth it."
Nodding, he gave her a sympathetic smile and took the
ignition key she handed him. As he ambled back toward the station to
get the tow truck, Anne rushed across the street to the corner where
the downtown bus stopped. Though it came only a short time later, she
was still twenty minutes late, as she rushed into the modern building
where she worked and took the elevator up.
Manning Consultants occupied the entire seventh floor, and
when Anne swept off the elevator, Betsy, the young brunette
receptionist, grinned cheekily. "Well, will wonders never cease?" she
commented wryly. "I've worked here for nearly a year, and I've never
once seen you come in late, Anne."
"I guess there's a first time for everything," Anne
replied ruefully as she sped past the girl on her way to the carved
double doors that opened into her office. After she hastily tossed her
purse into her desk drawer, she went to open the ice-blue drapes that
covered the tinted glass wall. Light flooded the large room, reflected
in the buffed wood surfaces of her desk and the frames of a matching
sofa and chairs. Pausing to take a deep breath and to swipe back that
aggravating strand of hair, she surveyed her own reflection in the
mirror on the wall above the sofa. Except for the fact that her cheeks
were unusually flushed, she looked normal. After straightening the
skirt of her dark blue suit, she snatched up her steno pad and pencil,
then knocked once on the double doors behind her desk.
Without waiting for a response from within, she entered
Ty's office, smiling apologetically as he looked up from his teakwood
desk and watched her walk toward him. "I'm sorry I'm late, Mr.
Manning," she said, the breathlessness caused by her haste, increasing
considerably as his blue eyes swept a long gaze slowly over her.
"Maybe if you didn't stay out until all hours, you could
get here on time," he practically growled at her, his face hard. "Don't
let this happen again, Anne. I won't tolerate tardiness."
"I do have an excuse," she replied stiffly, biting back an
angry retort. Her cheeks rosy with indignation and chagrin, she glared
back at him. Then, because it was his custom to dictate letters first
thing in the morning, she flounced down on the chair before his desk
and opened her steno pad as she continued tersely, "I want you to know
I'm not late because
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