help. I just would not want anyone to get the wrong idea, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I know exactly what you mean,” she replied. “Good morning, Mr. Whitcomb.”
The door closed, and Winifred chuckled softly to herself. The old guard was finally beginning to come around. Not that she had any complaints, for she much preferred this kind of work to dusting the library or filing. Still, it amused her that the old gent would rather be caught dead than accepting advice from her.
She was about to return to her work, when another knock sounded on the door. This time Drew McAlister stepped in, giving her a brisk nod. Winifred put aside her pencil and waited patiently.
“Miss Appleton,” he began, pausing in front of her desk. “I had a chance to review some of the work you have done. I thought your research was … very well thought out for a woman.”
“Thank you.” She tried not to bristle.
“I can tell you have done quite a bit of reading before you ever came here. Either that, or you have had excellent tutoring. I know Mr. Howe has been helping you, and frankly, I am amazed.” He waited for her comment, and when none was forthcoming, he pretended to study his walking stick thoroughly.
“Mr. McAlister, I am sure you did not stop by just to discuss my work,” Winifred said softly.
“Yes. I mean, no. Of course not,” the man said, pacing the room once more. When he finally stopped, he stared at her uneasily, as if unsure of how to approach her. “What I mean to say is—”
Winifred took pity on the man. “Mr. McAlister, could you possibly have something you would like me to research?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” With that, he deposited another fat envelope onto her desk. “One of Tweed’s associates is up on charges. It would not do at all for him to slip out of the rope, yet I feel some of the evidence is lacking. If you could just pinpoint, maybe make some notes …”
“I would be happy to.” She smiled.
The man flushed in gratitude, then suddenly seemed to remember the time. “I really have to run. I will look for the work tomorrow. By the way—”
“I would not think of mentioning it to a soul,” Winifred finished the sentence for him.
The man flushed again, then quickly dashed out, closing the door behind him.
This time Winifred really laughed. Fingering the envelopes, she saw that between the two cases, she easily had a week’s work. More importantly, the attorneys’ stealthy actions indicated that she had taken a step toward acceptance, a real step. And the education she would earn was priceless.
She had one man to thank for it all, Winifred thought. Charles Howe. He had done the unthinkable and given her a chance. The press had continued its relentless coverage of her presence in the state’s attorney’s office, and he had to be getting a lot of grief for hiring her. Still, he never let on that she caused him any inconvenience, and he only seemed proud of her achievements. There weren’t many men who would put themselves in such a position, especially for awoman. Charles, Winifred realized, truly was a man among men.
And in addition to being a good friend, he was rapidly becoming something more. He continued to send the flowers and occasionally added little gifts, such as bonbons or poetry. Winifred refused to acknowledge them, finding herself in a verbal quagmire whenever she did, but his thoughtfulness was having an effect on her. A sexual tension ignited between them at every encounter, and her fantasies lately were becoming more and more explicit. She had trouble sleeping, tossing and turning all night, dreaming of his kiss, of him touching her, arousing her, teaching her far more than the law.…
Shaking her head, she forced herself to return to her copying, but her sensual ruminations still intruded. Legal work, which had always fascinated her, proved pale in comparison to thoughts of Charles. Good Lord, something must really be wrong with her! They
“I think I know exactly what you mean,” she replied. “Good morning, Mr. Whitcomb.”
The door closed, and Winifred chuckled softly to herself. The old guard was finally beginning to come around. Not that she had any complaints, for she much preferred this kind of work to dusting the library or filing. Still, it amused her that the old gent would rather be caught dead than accepting advice from her.
She was about to return to her work, when another knock sounded on the door. This time Drew McAlister stepped in, giving her a brisk nod. Winifred put aside her pencil and waited patiently.
“Miss Appleton,” he began, pausing in front of her desk. “I had a chance to review some of the work you have done. I thought your research was … very well thought out for a woman.”
“Thank you.” She tried not to bristle.
“I can tell you have done quite a bit of reading before you ever came here. Either that, or you have had excellent tutoring. I know Mr. Howe has been helping you, and frankly, I am amazed.” He waited for her comment, and when none was forthcoming, he pretended to study his walking stick thoroughly.
“Mr. McAlister, I am sure you did not stop by just to discuss my work,” Winifred said softly.
“Yes. I mean, no. Of course not,” the man said, pacing the room once more. When he finally stopped, he stared at her uneasily, as if unsure of how to approach her. “What I mean to say is—”
Winifred took pity on the man. “Mr. McAlister, could you possibly have something you would like me to research?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” With that, he deposited another fat envelope onto her desk. “One of Tweed’s associates is up on charges. It would not do at all for him to slip out of the rope, yet I feel some of the evidence is lacking. If you could just pinpoint, maybe make some notes …”
“I would be happy to.” She smiled.
The man flushed in gratitude, then suddenly seemed to remember the time. “I really have to run. I will look for the work tomorrow. By the way—”
“I would not think of mentioning it to a soul,” Winifred finished the sentence for him.
The man flushed again, then quickly dashed out, closing the door behind him.
This time Winifred really laughed. Fingering the envelopes, she saw that between the two cases, she easily had a week’s work. More importantly, the attorneys’ stealthy actions indicated that she had taken a step toward acceptance, a real step. And the education she would earn was priceless.
She had one man to thank for it all, Winifred thought. Charles Howe. He had done the unthinkable and given her a chance. The press had continued its relentless coverage of her presence in the state’s attorney’s office, and he had to be getting a lot of grief for hiring her. Still, he never let on that she caused him any inconvenience, and he only seemed proud of her achievements. There weren’t many men who would put themselves in such a position, especially for awoman. Charles, Winifred realized, truly was a man among men.
And in addition to being a good friend, he was rapidly becoming something more. He continued to send the flowers and occasionally added little gifts, such as bonbons or poetry. Winifred refused to acknowledge them, finding herself in a verbal quagmire whenever she did, but his thoughtfulness was having an effect on her. A sexual tension ignited between them at every encounter, and her fantasies lately were becoming more and more explicit. She had trouble sleeping, tossing and turning all night, dreaming of his kiss, of him touching her, arousing her, teaching her far more than the law.…
Shaking her head, she forced herself to return to her copying, but her sensual ruminations still intruded. Legal work, which had always fascinated her, proved pale in comparison to thoughts of Charles. Good Lord, something must really be wrong with her! They
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