to the server and scrolled through a few.
A lot of Asking for Trouble forwards from Jack. I’d have to pick a question to answer soon. My heart buckled a little as I thought about my answer last week to the artist—the one Penny knew.
A forward about the garden club from my mom.
An e-mail from Natalie. Interesting. I clicked that one open and scanned the CC field. She’d sent it to everyone on the newspaper staff, talking about her plans for the next year. Should she win, that is.
And right before my eyes, a new e-mail arrived from . . . “Your friend Ashley Gorm Strauss”?
I clicked on that one too. It was an e-card. How nice! And it even had a benefit. It was from World Rice Bowl and promised to donate £1 toward world hunger for each person who opened the card. The sender would be notified about how much her friends had raised for her, as well as all the friends her friends forwarded it on to.
I looked out to the shop floor. Becky was still chatting. I looked at the e-mail again. Surely it hadn’t escaped my friend Ashley Gorm Strauss that I hadn’t responded to her last forward about the true love of my life. Might as well open the card.
I clicked on the card icon, and as I did, I noticed by the bar on the bottom of the screen that it was downloading.
Wait a minute. I’d only meant to open the card. Not to download it onto Becky’s computer.
I pounded the Escape button hard. Nothing. I hit Control-Alt-Delete. Nothing.
Becky was now ringing up the sale. It wasn’t like I could shout for her.
All of a sudden the computer flashed twice, on and off, on and off. Then I noticed that my address book from my still-open e-mail account appeared on the screen, and the names and e-mail addresses began to scroll through. I tried to close out of the e-mail program, but it wouldn’t shut down.
Desperate, I turned off the computer. My face was flaming hot. I could barely breathe. I was about to have my very first asthma attack; I was sure of it. Or heart attack, maybe.
The customer left the store, and Becky came back. She took one look at my face and said quietly, “Savvy, what’s wrong?”
Chapter 21
“Becky, I’m afraid I made a very big mistake.”
Becky cocked her head but said nothing, nodding for me to continue but looking at the black computer.
“I sent everything out like you asked me to. And I got the site uploaded. But . . . well, when I was waiting here for you, I started reading my e-mail. Then I clicked on an e-card, and all of a sudden something started downloading.” I told her the rest of the scenario, and as I did, her face went milky.
“Malware,” she said.
Worst. Day. Ever.
Chapter 22
I offered to stay and help, but Becky said no, she’d better close the shop and figure out what happened. For all she knew, the malware had been sent to all the people on the donor list, and as soon as they opened the message from her, right after the e-mail announcing the auction, they would infect their own computers.
I gathered up my bag and the rest of my things. She said she’d contact me later but she’d really better get to figuring this out. My eyes felt like fireballs, and I barely made it out of the shop without crying. I lost it as soon as I heard her lock the door behind me . . . an hour early.
Lord, I prayed, holding loud, clamoring sobs inside through sheer willpower, please, please, please don’t let that e-mail have gone out to the donors. Please let this be a simple fix for Becky’s computer. I’m so sorry that I made this mistake, Jesus. Just don’t let a lot of those other people be harmed. Please, please, please.
I stopped pleading as I felt my phone vibrate, indicating an incoming text. It was from Penny.
Savvy. Don’t open any e-mails from Ashley. Will explain more later.
Too late.
I walked a bit slower, hoping the cool air would calm down the red I knew must be splotching across my face. I pulled myself together, turned down Cinnamon Street, and headed
A lot of Asking for Trouble forwards from Jack. I’d have to pick a question to answer soon. My heart buckled a little as I thought about my answer last week to the artist—the one Penny knew.
A forward about the garden club from my mom.
An e-mail from Natalie. Interesting. I clicked that one open and scanned the CC field. She’d sent it to everyone on the newspaper staff, talking about her plans for the next year. Should she win, that is.
And right before my eyes, a new e-mail arrived from . . . “Your friend Ashley Gorm Strauss”?
I clicked on that one too. It was an e-card. How nice! And it even had a benefit. It was from World Rice Bowl and promised to donate £1 toward world hunger for each person who opened the card. The sender would be notified about how much her friends had raised for her, as well as all the friends her friends forwarded it on to.
I looked out to the shop floor. Becky was still chatting. I looked at the e-mail again. Surely it hadn’t escaped my friend Ashley Gorm Strauss that I hadn’t responded to her last forward about the true love of my life. Might as well open the card.
I clicked on the card icon, and as I did, I noticed by the bar on the bottom of the screen that it was downloading.
Wait a minute. I’d only meant to open the card. Not to download it onto Becky’s computer.
I pounded the Escape button hard. Nothing. I hit Control-Alt-Delete. Nothing.
Becky was now ringing up the sale. It wasn’t like I could shout for her.
All of a sudden the computer flashed twice, on and off, on and off. Then I noticed that my address book from my still-open e-mail account appeared on the screen, and the names and e-mail addresses began to scroll through. I tried to close out of the e-mail program, but it wouldn’t shut down.
Desperate, I turned off the computer. My face was flaming hot. I could barely breathe. I was about to have my very first asthma attack; I was sure of it. Or heart attack, maybe.
The customer left the store, and Becky came back. She took one look at my face and said quietly, “Savvy, what’s wrong?”
Chapter 21
“Becky, I’m afraid I made a very big mistake.”
Becky cocked her head but said nothing, nodding for me to continue but looking at the black computer.
“I sent everything out like you asked me to. And I got the site uploaded. But . . . well, when I was waiting here for you, I started reading my e-mail. Then I clicked on an e-card, and all of a sudden something started downloading.” I told her the rest of the scenario, and as I did, her face went milky.
“Malware,” she said.
Worst. Day. Ever.
Chapter 22
I offered to stay and help, but Becky said no, she’d better close the shop and figure out what happened. For all she knew, the malware had been sent to all the people on the donor list, and as soon as they opened the message from her, right after the e-mail announcing the auction, they would infect their own computers.
I gathered up my bag and the rest of my things. She said she’d contact me later but she’d really better get to figuring this out. My eyes felt like fireballs, and I barely made it out of the shop without crying. I lost it as soon as I heard her lock the door behind me . . . an hour early.
Lord, I prayed, holding loud, clamoring sobs inside through sheer willpower, please, please, please don’t let that e-mail have gone out to the donors. Please let this be a simple fix for Becky’s computer. I’m so sorry that I made this mistake, Jesus. Just don’t let a lot of those other people be harmed. Please, please, please.
I stopped pleading as I felt my phone vibrate, indicating an incoming text. It was from Penny.
Savvy. Don’t open any e-mails from Ashley. Will explain more later.
Too late.
I walked a bit slower, hoping the cool air would calm down the red I knew must be splotching across my face. I pulled myself together, turned down Cinnamon Street, and headed
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