never figured out how to—Huh.” He thrust the letter at Cliff. “Instead of ‘arbitration,’ she’s got ‘Arbitron.’ Instead of ‘abate,’ she’s got ‘Seagate.’”
“Isn’t Seagate one of those companies that make hard disk drives for computers?” Cliff took the sheet and read it swiftly. “Beautiful job otherwise. Are you sure she didn’t type it off something you hand-wrote? Because if so…”
“Go ahead.” Garner took the letter back. “Insult my writing. Seriously, Cliff. Take a good look at her and tell me why you think she’s in this office.”
“I already told you.” Cliff looked over his shoulder obligingly but Angie wasn’t visible. “She just moved here and she needed a job. It’s probably as simple as that. And no one but you can read your handwriting.”
Garner wished he could feel as sanguine. The feeling that there were major chunks missing from Angelina Brownwood’s professional résumé had been growing all day. Her peculiar choice of words to fill spots where she couldn’t read his writing added to the feeling.
“Then you don’t think she took the job just to get the inside tips on one of my cases?” he asked. “I have that big case coming up in a couple of months—”
Cliff stared at him. “Inside tips? Jeez, Garner, are you defending Mafia dons or something? One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me just what the hell happened in Dallas. You’re going paranoid, buddy.”
Garner felt faintly foolish. “Can you blame me? Why would a woman like her take a job here, unless she’s a reporter? Either she’s on the run, or she wants inside info.”
“If it’s a choice between the two, she must be on the run,” Cliff said. “You ought to be glad you’re so desirable and in the right business. Otherwise, you might never have gotten a good secretary.”
“It isn’t a joking matter,” Garner said. “Who knows? She might be into white-collar crime.”
“Yeah,” Cliff dead-panned. “Hold onto your bank account.”
As his bank account wasn’t worth a decent white-collar criminal’s attention, Garner felt even more foolish. But he still wondered just what Miss Angelina Brownwood was up to, and why she’d picked his office to do it.
• • •
Just outside the door, Angie paused, broom in hand, and dropped all pretense of working. Who on earth did Garner Holt think he was?
If there hadn’t been a grain or two of truth in his speech, Angie wouldn’t have been nearly so angry. As it was, she swelled with righteous indignation and thought about marching in and telling him what he could do with his filthy office.
Instead, she turned and silently walked back to the other end of the room. Not for anything would she let him realize she’d overheard this conversation.
That did it. She’d allow herself to work for him for three months; she’d seek employment elsewhere after that. By then, she’d have gained enough new skills to call herself a legal secretary.
Garner was suspicious, which meant he would probably research her name on the Internet. Then he would find out she’d been fired from BrownWare for “official misconduct.” Angie now had no doubt he’d believe the worst of her.
The secretarial manuals were right. She had no business developing romantic feelings for her boss.
Angie began sweeping vigorously, raising clouds of dust with each push of the broom. She’d show him. She’d show everyone, including her father, who had told her she’d come crawling back home within six weeks, begging to have her job back.
Never
, Angie declared silently. She wasn’t going back to California, and she was never working for BrownWare again, she didn’t care if she starved.
Not that she would starve, thanks to her alternate source of income, but the principle remained. Not for anything was she ever returning to Palo Alto or to BrownWare.
Angie listed what she probably needed to learn in order to call herself a legal secretary. The
“Isn’t Seagate one of those companies that make hard disk drives for computers?” Cliff took the sheet and read it swiftly. “Beautiful job otherwise. Are you sure she didn’t type it off something you hand-wrote? Because if so…”
“Go ahead.” Garner took the letter back. “Insult my writing. Seriously, Cliff. Take a good look at her and tell me why you think she’s in this office.”
“I already told you.” Cliff looked over his shoulder obligingly but Angie wasn’t visible. “She just moved here and she needed a job. It’s probably as simple as that. And no one but you can read your handwriting.”
Garner wished he could feel as sanguine. The feeling that there were major chunks missing from Angelina Brownwood’s professional résumé had been growing all day. Her peculiar choice of words to fill spots where she couldn’t read his writing added to the feeling.
“Then you don’t think she took the job just to get the inside tips on one of my cases?” he asked. “I have that big case coming up in a couple of months—”
Cliff stared at him. “Inside tips? Jeez, Garner, are you defending Mafia dons or something? One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me just what the hell happened in Dallas. You’re going paranoid, buddy.”
Garner felt faintly foolish. “Can you blame me? Why would a woman like her take a job here, unless she’s a reporter? Either she’s on the run, or she wants inside info.”
“If it’s a choice between the two, she must be on the run,” Cliff said. “You ought to be glad you’re so desirable and in the right business. Otherwise, you might never have gotten a good secretary.”
“It isn’t a joking matter,” Garner said. “Who knows? She might be into white-collar crime.”
“Yeah,” Cliff dead-panned. “Hold onto your bank account.”
As his bank account wasn’t worth a decent white-collar criminal’s attention, Garner felt even more foolish. But he still wondered just what Miss Angelina Brownwood was up to, and why she’d picked his office to do it.
• • •
Just outside the door, Angie paused, broom in hand, and dropped all pretense of working. Who on earth did Garner Holt think he was?
If there hadn’t been a grain or two of truth in his speech, Angie wouldn’t have been nearly so angry. As it was, she swelled with righteous indignation and thought about marching in and telling him what he could do with his filthy office.
Instead, she turned and silently walked back to the other end of the room. Not for anything would she let him realize she’d overheard this conversation.
That did it. She’d allow herself to work for him for three months; she’d seek employment elsewhere after that. By then, she’d have gained enough new skills to call herself a legal secretary.
Garner was suspicious, which meant he would probably research her name on the Internet. Then he would find out she’d been fired from BrownWare for “official misconduct.” Angie now had no doubt he’d believe the worst of her.
The secretarial manuals were right. She had no business developing romantic feelings for her boss.
Angie began sweeping vigorously, raising clouds of dust with each push of the broom. She’d show him. She’d show everyone, including her father, who had told her she’d come crawling back home within six weeks, begging to have her job back.
Never
, Angie declared silently. She wasn’t going back to California, and she was never working for BrownWare again, she didn’t care if she starved.
Not that she would starve, thanks to her alternate source of income, but the principle remained. Not for anything was she ever returning to Palo Alto or to BrownWare.
Angie listed what she probably needed to learn in order to call herself a legal secretary. The
Similar Books
