nitty-gritty!”
“It was fantasy all the way, Rosie, but not so bad.”
“Yes, yes—”
Halley stared off into space for a minute, and her friend smiled. Then, with sudden zeal, she stood and scooped up her books. “Sorry, Rosie, I’d love to chew over all the juicy details with you, but I have a meeting with the Thorne Center board this afternoon.”
“Finnegan, sometimes I wonder why I put up with you.”
Halley loosened one arm from under the pile of books and hugged Rosie tightly. “Me, too, but I’m awfully glad you do, because for all your ill-conceived ideas, you’re quite a lovely person and a ten-plus in the friend category.”
“Well,” Rosie muttered, walking alongside Halley as they made their way through the main library hall and toward the front door, “you sure as hell don’t treat me like a ten.”
“Why don’t we have dinner tonight so we can debate that?”
“I’m meeting Fred at the Grill.”
“Great. I’ll join you and fill you
both
in on the wild escapades of Contessa Halley Finnegan. Ciao.”
“Fred agrees with me, you know,” Rosie shouted after her as Halley scampered down the wide marble steps in front of the mansion that was now a library. “You need some sex in your life, Halley Finnegan. Pure, enjoyable, simple sex!”
Several sedate, elderly couples strolling the spaciousestate lawns stopped to stare at the young woman who stood alone on the library steps.
Rosie smiled sweetly in their direction, lifted one shoulder in a playful shrug, then bounced down the steps and off into the sun-drenched Monday afternoon.
“So, ladies and gentlemen,” Halley said, pushing her glasses back up her nose, “as you can see, the Thorne Center is quickly becoming far more than a library. The entire estate is being put to use for a variety of purposes. We now have fourteen programs in place and nearly a dozen more on the drawing board.” She smiled happily, slipped off her glasses, and sat back down in the leather chair.
“I have something to add to all those numbers Ms. Finnegan’s been shoving at us.” The balding, elderly Leo Thorne stood up and smiled kindly at Halley. “If my father had any idea what good things that Irish lass was going to do for the neighborhood, he’d probably have given up his home years ago and moved into a bus station! A fine tribute it’s become, and it’s a damn shame he died before Ms. Finnegan talked me into this harebrained idea!”
Halley smiled at the white-haired man who was responsible not only for her going on to college but for her job as well. She cared deeply for Leo Thorne. He’d never been anything but wonderful to her—with the exception of coercing her into attending the Harringtons’ party.
That
idea of his had cost her a sound sleep last night when she finally returned home from the Harringtons’, her head filled with thoughts of barons and her heart slightly askew. She’d have to speak to her dear friend privately and let him know he owed her one.
A shuffling noise at the boardroom door caused the room to hum with muffled voices for a moment as a younger man came in and took a seat near thedoor. Halley squinted but couldn’t make out the newcomer without her glasses. Probably another reporter, she thought. Whenever they needed a heartwarming human-interest story, they’d come to Halley, then write gushingly about “the blue-collar neighborhood surrounding the Thorne Estate which now, thanks to a few dedicated souls, has its very own library.”
Another report was passed around, and Halley retrieved her glasses. One of these days, she thought as she put them on, she’d dress appropriately for these meetings. Heels, nylons, the works. Leo usually held them at his bank, and the women on the board came looking elegant. She glanced down at her long jeans skirt and big, soft overblouse. She’d slipped a belt around her waist as an afterthought that morning and suspected she looked a little like Annie Hall. She bit
“It was fantasy all the way, Rosie, but not so bad.”
“Yes, yes—”
Halley stared off into space for a minute, and her friend smiled. Then, with sudden zeal, she stood and scooped up her books. “Sorry, Rosie, I’d love to chew over all the juicy details with you, but I have a meeting with the Thorne Center board this afternoon.”
“Finnegan, sometimes I wonder why I put up with you.”
Halley loosened one arm from under the pile of books and hugged Rosie tightly. “Me, too, but I’m awfully glad you do, because for all your ill-conceived ideas, you’re quite a lovely person and a ten-plus in the friend category.”
“Well,” Rosie muttered, walking alongside Halley as they made their way through the main library hall and toward the front door, “you sure as hell don’t treat me like a ten.”
“Why don’t we have dinner tonight so we can debate that?”
“I’m meeting Fred at the Grill.”
“Great. I’ll join you and fill you
both
in on the wild escapades of Contessa Halley Finnegan. Ciao.”
“Fred agrees with me, you know,” Rosie shouted after her as Halley scampered down the wide marble steps in front of the mansion that was now a library. “You need some sex in your life, Halley Finnegan. Pure, enjoyable, simple sex!”
Several sedate, elderly couples strolling the spaciousestate lawns stopped to stare at the young woman who stood alone on the library steps.
Rosie smiled sweetly in their direction, lifted one shoulder in a playful shrug, then bounced down the steps and off into the sun-drenched Monday afternoon.
“So, ladies and gentlemen,” Halley said, pushing her glasses back up her nose, “as you can see, the Thorne Center is quickly becoming far more than a library. The entire estate is being put to use for a variety of purposes. We now have fourteen programs in place and nearly a dozen more on the drawing board.” She smiled happily, slipped off her glasses, and sat back down in the leather chair.
“I have something to add to all those numbers Ms. Finnegan’s been shoving at us.” The balding, elderly Leo Thorne stood up and smiled kindly at Halley. “If my father had any idea what good things that Irish lass was going to do for the neighborhood, he’d probably have given up his home years ago and moved into a bus station! A fine tribute it’s become, and it’s a damn shame he died before Ms. Finnegan talked me into this harebrained idea!”
Halley smiled at the white-haired man who was responsible not only for her going on to college but for her job as well. She cared deeply for Leo Thorne. He’d never been anything but wonderful to her—with the exception of coercing her into attending the Harringtons’ party.
That
idea of his had cost her a sound sleep last night when she finally returned home from the Harringtons’, her head filled with thoughts of barons and her heart slightly askew. She’d have to speak to her dear friend privately and let him know he owed her one.
A shuffling noise at the boardroom door caused the room to hum with muffled voices for a moment as a younger man came in and took a seat near thedoor. Halley squinted but couldn’t make out the newcomer without her glasses. Probably another reporter, she thought. Whenever they needed a heartwarming human-interest story, they’d come to Halley, then write gushingly about “the blue-collar neighborhood surrounding the Thorne Estate which now, thanks to a few dedicated souls, has its very own library.”
Another report was passed around, and Halley retrieved her glasses. One of these days, she thought as she put them on, she’d dress appropriately for these meetings. Heels, nylons, the works. Leo usually held them at his bank, and the women on the board came looking elegant. She glanced down at her long jeans skirt and big, soft overblouse. She’d slipped a belt around her waist as an afterthought that morning and suspected she looked a little like Annie Hall. She bit
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