afternoon at two.
She was dressed in the best wool coat she owned. It was
vintage and warm and was a gift from her dad. She’d tried to
sell it, along with most of her other valuable clothing, when
they’d been desperate for money, but that was in the summer,
and no one wanted it then. After they sold the jewellery,
namely her mother’s necklace, there was no need to try to sell
the jacket again.
She was glad for it, as she shivered in the beat-up car all the
way to Giana’s office. She’d left the house at noon, not
wanting to be late and anticipating horrific traffic. The car’s
heater barely worked and blew cold air that made the
windshield frost up. Thankfully, she’d filled up the tank the
day before and had enough gas that sitting and idling in the
worst of the lunch hour rush wasn’t a big deal.
Maybe she’s nice. She made time to see you. This is
obviously important to her. So what if her secretary was a
condescending, horrible lady who made you feel like you were
trying to scam her boss after you told her that your father was
the one who had crafted that necklace and that he was dying,
and it was his last wish just to see it again? That wasn’t Giana
Thompson. You wouldn’t be heading to her office now if she
wasn’t a good person and didn’t have a good heart and she
wasn’t willing to consider entertaining the idea.
Coralyn tried to comfort herself with that information the
whole way. At least when she called into work the afternoon
before, from the hospital, and explained everything, they’d
agreed to give her as much time off as she needed. She was
relieved that she was still employed. She needed her job, even
if it was sort of humiliating to be working as a filing clerk in a