As Jenny watched the men of the OSS and SOE organize their paperwork and sift through briefcases and folios at headquarters, she wondered what secrets they possessed. She eyed them with envy, wondering if she would ever rate such trust. The scene reminded her of her first day, with the same men, and for her, the same excitement, but this time she was more than just the new kid on the block. She was important, and she’d procured something vital to their cause. The sense of accomplishment and worth was intoxicating.
“Thank you, Miss Ryan, you’ve done an excellent job for us,” Colonel Holmes said.
“Thank you, sir. I look forward to the challenges ahead and hope I can meet them all with as much success.”
The men around the table smiled and murmured in agreement. There was a knock at the door and the secretary stuck her head in. “Miss Hammond and Mr. Smith.”
“Excellent, send them in,” Colonel Holmes said.
Jenny beamed at the mere mention of Kathryn’s name but quickly caught herself and dusted off her indifference, owing the present company.
Kathryn did a nearly imperceptible double take when she saw her, and Jenny imagined she’d never get used to seeing her in one of these meetings. She got over it quickly and smiled at her in return as she stopped at the empty place across from her.
Greetings rumbled around the room as Kathryn and Smitty took their seats.
“You look well, Miss Hammond … considering,” Holmes said. “Glad you’re still with us.”
That was an odd thing to say, Jenny thought. Even odder was Colonel Forsythe’s seconding of that notion. She searched Kathryn’s face for an explanation, but like at the benefit, she wore her professional mask to perfection.
“Glad to be here.”
Holmes cleared his throat as he opened a file and addressed Kathryn. “These men …”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get more information on—”
“Quite all right,” Holmes interrupted, as he began sliding photos with names and short biographies attached with paper clips across the table, one by one. “Are these the men you saw?”
Kathryn scooped up the photos as they slid before her. The last photo, Charles Lawrence’s, arrived with a large red stamp across his face that read Deceased.
“Deceased?” Jenny asked in surprise. “He was alive just last night.”
The colonels looked at each other briefly, and Colonel Forsythe explained, “I’m afraid Mr. Lawrence had an idea to take Kathryn hostage last night, intent on elimination. John was forced to take action. Mr. Lawrence was killed.”
Jenny sat wide-eyed and stunned for a moment, her eyes shifting from Smitty’s matter-of-fact expression to Kathryn, who was oblivious to the conversation, as she concentrated on the mini biographies before her. “Well,” Jenny said as she shifted, aware that all eyes but Kathryn’s were upon her, “see if I ever leave a party early again.”
The men seemed to appreciate her sense of humor about such a dire matter, and she chuckled with them to sell her composure, but she felt no humor. Kathryn finally lifted her eyes at the sound of the laughter, and Jenny was struck with a severe case of what if. What if she could never look into those eyes again? How close had Lawrence come to taking her life? Her breath caught in her throat, and it was all she could do to remain calm. She repeated She’s fine, she’s fine, she’s fine in her head, hoping no one could sense her internal anguish at what might have happened.
Kathryn wasn’t fooled. She saw right through her and offered an ever so subtle tilt of the head and a smile to give her whatever reassurance she could.
Jenny acknowledged the effort with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. In truth, it only upset her more. Even looking at Kathryn threatened to undo her, so she concentrated on what Colonel Holmes was saying and was surprised to find him addressing her.
“But that is for another time,” he was saying. “For now, this will do. Thank you again, and good day, Miss Ryan.”
It took her a beat to comprehend her dismissal, and while she was disappointed, she recognized that she had served her purpose and gracefully took her leave. Trust is earned, she reminded herself, not given just because you were in the right place at the right time.
Kathryn held up one of the photos and looked to Colonel Forsythe. “Where did we get these?”
“Our young Miss Ryan enlisted the help of her photographer friend,” Holmes said, with a lilt of pride she’d never extracted from him. “Not only did she get the photos, she chatted them up and got names and basic background too. R&A did the rest in the wee hours of this morning, and we are leaps and bounds ahead of where we were yesterday.”
Kathryn shook her head and exhaled, part disapproval, part worry. “That was dangerous.”
“Actually, she was quite careful about the whole thing,” Forsythe said. “She made sure each man was photographed in a group, none in the same group, and she talked to everyone in the photos to avoid suspicion.”
Kathryn still didn’t like Jenny that close to potential danger, but she couldn’t fault her method and knew she had the personality to pull it off. She was impressed. “That’s good work.”
“Yes,” Holmes said a little too enthusiastically. “In one evening, Miss Ryan has managed what you could not in all the months of being in the man’s inner circle.”
Kathryn snapped her head in Holmes’s direction, as did Smitty, and they both spoke at once. “Now, see here,” Smitty barked, almost drowning out Kathryn’s “You have something to say to me, Holmes?”
“Settle down,” Forsythe’s low voice said as a warning. “Care to explain that comment, Holmes?”
Forsythe was not the confrontational sort, but disparage his people and you’d better be ready to explain yourself. The colonels locked eyes briefly, as their aides sat spellbound, waiting for the fireworks.
Holmes backed off his remark, replacing it with an easy smile and a load of bull. “Just pointing out how happy I am with Miss Ryan’s contribution, Walter.” He turned to Kathryn. “Taking nothing away from you, or your tireless work, Miss Hammond. She just got lucky.” He regarded the group. “We all got lucky.”
The room was silent for several uncomfortable moments while tempers dispersed and good fortunes were tallied. Holmes looked over Kathryn’s report with a somewhat dubious expression. “So, you warned him his life was in danger.”
Kathryn stared at him, her dislike growing exponentially every time he opened his mouth. “I could hardly avoid it after what happened.”
“Mm,” Holmes said, closing the report and moving on to the next folder. “See that you are not becoming too fond of Mr. Forrester.”
“Don’t be disgusting,” Kathryn said.
“Relax, Miss Hammond. You would not be the first agent to get attached to an assignment. In fact,” he said, as he began to dig deep into her folder, “it wouldn’t be the first time you—”
“That’s enough, Holmes,” Forsythe said, losing his considerable patience. “Can we move on, please?”
“Certainly,” Holmes said with a disingenuous grin. “Miss Hammond,” he began pleasantly, “did Mr. Forrester mention anything about these men?”
“As I indicated in my report,” she began, annoyed at his condescending tone, “only that he knew who they were and that he was going to take care of them. I think I convinced him the remaining four were loyal, but he still left town this morning for an undisclosed location and unspecified duration.”
“I see. And he left you this note?”
“Yes.”
Holmes unfolded the expensive linen stationary and began to read. “Dear darling—” He looked up with a smirk. “I feel compelled to bestow upon you my sincerest gratitude for your devotion in these trying times.” He looked up again with what appeared to be a genuine appreciation of Kathryn’s spell over the man. “I regret my brief stay in our home—” He emphasized the word with a raised eyebrow. “But until we are together again, I know you are in good hands. Ever, Marc.” Holmes looked to Smitty. “And these would be your capable hands, Mr. Smith?”
“Yes.”
Holmes nodded and turned again to Kathryn. “And you have no idea what he has planned for these men?”
“Not specifically. He seemed determined to make an example of them, but by the end, he seemed to think better of it. They may be too important to dispose of. Lawrence seemed to think Forrester couldn’t go on without them. The men themselves seemed to think they couldn’t go on without Forrester. Something about research and something neither side has yet.”
“Yes,” Holmes agreed, as if he were well aware of the situation. He closed Forrester’s file and began searching for another.
“You may have saved those men’s lives,” Colonel Forsythe interjected into the break in the conversation.
“I’m not sure if that’s good or bad,” she said.
“Neither are we,” Holmes agreed, much to Walter’s obvious chagrin. He slid a file marked Daniel Ryan under Kathryn’s hand.
Kathryn’s heartbeat quickened as the brown folder burned beneath her fingers. She didn’t want to know anymore. Whatever Jenny’s father was into, it didn’t appear to be good. The German’s wanted it, and men were willing to kill for it, and most of all, more disclosure meant more to hide from Jenny.
Smitty got a copy of the same file and didn’t hesitate to devour its contents. “Woo,” he exclaimed, “a real family affair.”
Kathryn could no longer put off the inevitable. She cracked the file and was met with Daniel Ryan’s photo. His strong jaw and gentle eyes were stained with the red stamp of his fate: Deceased. She glanced through his record, tracing his conspicuously vague scientific and medical career straight into the subfolder of his parents. Jenny’s grandmother was an artist, her grandfather a chemist and botanist, just as Jenny had said, but her grandfather’s hobby wasn’t all about the wonder and beauty of the natural world. He was a research scientist. His work, destruction and disease. Biological warfare.
“My God,” she said under her breath.
The grandfather’s record led to Austria, where he studied and worked early in his career before returning stateside to carry on with his research. His history showed there were always trips abroad, the durations longer and longer, leading up to the outbreak of the First World War and ceasing just before the fall of Germany, never to resume again. The report was incomplete—his wife’s role was unclear—but its inference was clear and it was complete enough to illustrate the Ryan family tree was steeped in deception and possibly treason.
Kathryn swallowed the rising bile in her throat. It would kill Jenny if she found out. She quietly closed the folder. “What next?”
“Our focus is what it always has been,” Holmes assured her. “Find what they are looking for before they do, and foil whatever plan is in place.”
“What about this?” She tapped the Ryan folder.
“Unfortunately, dead men tell no tales,” he said.
“And his daughter knows nothing,” Kathryn said as a reminder, in case he forgot.
“So, we are back to sit and listen,” Smitty said.
“Not exactly.” Forsythe shifted as he leaned in. “For the past year, this group—” he said, tapping on the stack of photos, “has been receiving information. Information we assumed was coming from Daniel Ryan.” He paused as his agents reached their impossible conclusions. “Except, of course, Daniel Ryan has been dead for the past year.”
“And the daughter has been cleared,” Smitty said.
Kathryn knew his comment was to keep her from reiterating Jenny’s innocence, thus revealing her obvious interest.
“So,” Holmes drew out as he clasped his hands across his paperwork, “who is left?”
“Paul,” Kathryn said.
“We suspect,” Forsythe agreed, “but there is no opportunity. He has been watched extensively. If it is him, we are baffled as to how the information is being exchanged.”
Kathryn tilted her head and raised her brow. “Well, he wants like hell to keep Jenny away from Forrester.”
Holmes eyed her curiously. “Any chance you could get close to Paul?”
“None whatsoever,” Kathryn and Smitty chimed in unison.
Smitty continued, taking the desperation out of their protest. “He despises her.”
“I see,” Holmes said, as if he could completely understand.
“So, where does this leave us?” Kathryn asked.
Holmes began gathering his papers. “This leaves you right where you are.” He looked up, fake smile firmly in place. “Doing a fine job.” He turned to Smitty. “Mr. Smith, see how close you can get to Mr. Forrester when he returns. Gain his confidence … drinking buddies … you know. Perhaps he will tell you things he wouldn’t tell a woman.”
He paused, and Kathryn knew her icy glare, backed by the equally frigid stare of Colonel Forsythe, had its intended effect.
“Business things,” Holmes clarified. “Man to man. You understand, right, Miss Hammond?”
“Completely.”
“Good. I believe we’re through here.”
“Not quite,” Forsythe said as he stood, stilling the fellow officer with a warning look. He softened his demeanor and turned to his agents. “John, thank you. I don’t need to tell you—”
“No sir.” He shook the older man’s extended hand.
“Kathryn—” He pulled her chair out for her as she stood. “Good work, as always.”
They filed out with mumbles of farewell to the mute aides and only a cursory nod to Holmes, who sat like a scolded child awaiting his punishment.
“Get out the earplugs, Sal,” Kathryn said to the secretary as she passed through the outer office. It wasn’t often that Colonel Forsythe lost his temper. She’d only seen it twice, but when he did … brother, look out. As she and Smitty traveled the hallway, the sound of raised voices seeped under the closed doors behind them like an early morning fog.
“This is ridiculous,” Jenny complained to the mirror in the ladies’ room as she wiped away her tears. But she knew it wasn’t ridiculous. Her fear was well-founded. Kathryn could have been killed. She knew Forrester was dangerous and knew the men around him were dangerous, but Kathryn seemed untouchable surrounded by his power. Who would dare? She barely held herself together as she walked through the outer office, offering a wave over her shoulder to the secretary, knowing no sound would make it past her tight throat.
Once in the ladies’ room, she lost it entirely and wondered when Kathryn had taken her over so completely. Just the possibility of Kathryn’s loss overwhelmed her. Was it love, instability, or lingering fallout from the loss of her father? She didn’t know, but she knew she had to conquer it quickly. She couldn’t fall apart every time she saw her.
The majority of her tears shed, she blew her nose and looked at the familiar sight of her weeping reflection. When would it stop? She never used to be this way. “Pull yourself together,” she said, raising her chin. “Danger is part of her job.” She paused. “It’s part of our job. Grow up, Jenny.”
She plucked a tissue from the dispenser on the counter and dried her eyes. “That starts today.” She spent a few more minutes securing her emotions and confidently strode out of the ladies’ room only to literally run into Kathryn and Smitty in the hallway.
“Oh, hey,” Kathryn said with a grin as she grabbed her shoulders. Then, “Hey,” again, this time filled with concern. “What is it?”
Jenny tried to hide her face, looking anywhere but at Kathryn and more than a little self-consciously at Smitty. “It’s nothing. Really, I’m—”
“C’mere.” Kathryn led her back into the ladies’ room, glancing around the small room once inside.
“It’s empty,” Jenny said quietly, disappointed that she’d been found an emotional wreck, again. “I’m sorry, Kat. It’s nothing.”
Kathryn reached back and locked the door before coming to her and cupping her face in her hands. “Why are you apologizing to me?”
“Because I’m such a baby.” She looked down in shame. “I try to be strong, I really do, but sometimes it just hits me and I can’t help it.”
“Okay, first of all, what’s all this about?”
Jenny looked up into Kathryn’s gentle eyes and had to turn away or risk falling apart again. She couldn’t reveal what upset her. Kathryn didn’t need a weak-minded lover who couldn’t handle the rigors of life let alone their relationship. She offered instead the first thing that came to mind. “I saw a fellow in the hallway who reminded me of my dad.”
“Oh.”
“It’s stupid, I know.”
Kathryn relaxed and embraced her. “Nonsense.”
Jenny melted into the protection of her strong arms, but when an overwhelming urge to bare her soul washed over her, she quickly pushed away, claiming foolishness, and left Kathryn confused, holding nothing but the air.
She turned to the mirror to escape the rising emotional tide, and Kathryn reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. Jenny stopped her with a quick squeeze of her hand before dropping it and returning to the task of wiping running mascara from under her eyes.
“I’m okay. Honestly. Don’t fuss.”
She saw Kathryn’s confusion in the mirror and then her confident resolve as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her waist from behind. “But I like fussing over you,” she said and kissed the side of her head.
Jenny tensed as a sob nearly escaped. She stepped to the side, out of Kathryn’s grasp. “Kat, please. You’re not helping.”
Kathryn held up her hands. “Sorry.”
She looked like she’d been slapped in the face, and Jenny’s heart clenched because she’d put that look there. Kathryn’s expression hardened and the confident resolve turned to grim resolve.
She turned for the door. “I’ll leave you be then.” She paused and half turned, her eyes trained on the floor. “Nice work last night.”
“Kat, wait, I didn’t—”
Kathryn held up a hand and didn’t turn around. “It’s all right if you don’t want to do this, Jenny. In fact, I’d just as soon end it now.”
Jenny rushed to her side. “What are you talking about?”
Kathryn faced her. “Look, I understand, I really do.”
Jenny certainly didn’t, and she didn’t understand why Kathryn was always so eager to call the whole thing off—they’d barely gotten started. Was she seriously that insecure? Or perhaps she was taking that casual sex line far too seriously. “You’re angry.”
“I promise you, I’m not angry. It’s obvious you’d rather be alone.”
“Please,” Jenny said, grasping Kathryn’s wrist. “You’re wrong. I—” She felt like she would cry again and struggled against it by turning her face downward. “I just don’t want you to see me this way anymore.” Finally, a kernel of truth.
Kathryn’s warm hand tilted her chin up. “What way?”
Jenny couldn’t meet her eyes. “Like an overemotional child.” She angrily swiped at her tears. “I want to be strong.” She still didn’t dare make eye contact. “Like you.”
“Look at me.”
Jenny lifted her eyes. The empathy she found staring back at her showed Kathryn understood the desire to control emotions that had no regard for time and place or logic and reason.
“If I’m strong, it’s because I have friends I can lean on when I need to. Like Smitty—” She cupped her face in her hands. “Like you.”
Kathryn’s face blurred as tears filled her vision.
“Would you be there for me, Jenny?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Then let me be here for you.”
That was all Jenny needed to give in to her emotions. She melted into Kathryn’s embrace and felt transparent. How could Kathryn not know the tears were about her? She felt the need to reinforce her charade. “I miss him so,” she said through a sob into the dark blue gabardine of Kathryn’s suit jacket.
“I know, honey.”
Kathryn whispered words of comfort until the tears abated and Jenny loosened her grip, signaling her recovery.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Kathryn said as she retrieved a tissue and handed it over.
Jenny chuckled through sniffles. “I won’t.” She could finally look her in the eyes without wanting to break down. “Thank you.”
“Better now?”
“Yes, much.” She blotted her eyes.
Kathryn cupped her cheek. “Please don’t ever feel you have to hide who you are. Not to me. Not ever.”
“I don’t want you to get sick of it. Sick of me. Because I don’t know when it will stop.”
“Jenny, your emotional honesty is one of the things I—” Kathryn seemed to stumble on the next word and tried again. “One of the things that’s so special about you.”
Jenny turned away with a dismissive shake of her head and stared at her distraught reflection. “I don’t feel very special right now.”
Kathryn wrapped her arms around her from behind again, and this time she let her. She held her close and rocked her gently. “How ’bout now?”
Jenny melted into the embrace, glad her emotional upheaval was over. “Do you know how much I love your arms around me?”
“No, but if you hum a few bars, I bet I could make it worth your while.”
Jenny turned in Kathryn’s arms and got lost in the grace of her complete acceptance. Gone was the urge to burst into tears, replaced by a sense of destiny that extended beyond what the world could throw at them. She was safe, here and now, and if she’d learned anything, it was that the only sure thing was this moment, and she wasn’t going to waste another. She captured Kathryn’s lips without a thought to what came before or what would come after. She quickly found her body pressed impossibly close to Kathryn’s thigh by a strong hand on the small of her back, and she cursed her tight skirt for coming between her and unbridled pleasure.
She vaguely became aware of voices in the hall as Smitty repeatedly announced, “Sorry, out of order.”
“Good boy,” Kathryn mumbled between passionate kisses.
A loud knock finally got their complete attention.
“Uh, ladies? The natives are getting restless.”
Kathryn groaned to the ceiling. “Bad boy.”
Jenny chuckled and laid her head on Kathryn’s warm chest, where she felt her heart beating wildly. “When will I see you again?”
“How about tonight?”
Her head snapped up in disbelief. “On the level? What about Forrester?”
“Out of town.”
“My God, why didn’t you say so? Yes! Oh—” She put her hand to her forehead. “I promised Bernie and Cal we’d go out. It’s been ages.”
“Maybe another night.”
“No. I’ll reschedule with the boys. I want to see you. Soon.”
“Rehearsal is over at four, and then I have a few hours to kill before I have to get ready for tonight’s show. Maybe we could get a bite to eat—”
“Or,” Jenny interrupted as she reached for Kathryn, undid a button mid-torso, and slipped her hand inside her blouse, “maybe we could find something a little more interesting to do with our precious few hours. Hm?”
Kathryn moved closer with a big grin. “Or we could do that.”
“Sorry, out of order!” Smitty bellowed in a none too subtle crescendo, indicating they’d better make themselves presentable in a hurry.
They parted with a chuckle and checked themselves in the mirror.
“Where are you headed?” Jenny asked as she reapplied her lipstick.
Kathryn took out her own lipstick and leaned into the mirror. “I thought I’d go directly to the club.” She cut her eyes to Jenny with a mischievous grin. “Maybe I’ll finish that rehearsal early.”
“Mm.” Jenny hummed approvingly. “I’ll be up that way shortly, so that will be perfect.”
“Want a ride? Smitty’s got the car today. Forrester has made him my bodyguard, so we can give you a lift.”
“Maybe next time. I’m meeting Bernie and have to make a stop at the store first.”
“Bring him along. Smitty will be thrilled.”
Jenny chuckled. “Well, anything that thrills Smitty …”
Kathryn broke into a broad-faced grin.
They exited the ladies’ room, and the trio began to strut, three abreast, down the hallway.
“Blouse,” Smitty commented nonchalantly.
Kathryn one-handed the wayward button. “Thank you.”
Jenny blushed as Smitty looked her way and identified her as the guilty party.
“How you doin’, kid?”
“Just swell, Johnny, yourself?”
He cut his eyes to Kathryn, who just chuckled.
Bernie waited until Smitty left the car to smoke and Jenny disappeared into the grocery store before leaning on the back of the front seat and settling his chin on his crossed arms. “So, did you like the champagne?” he asked Kathryn, sitting in the front passenger seat. He could tell by the confused look on her face she hadn’t a clue what he was referring to. “Last night. I sent it to the room.” He made quotation marks in the air.
“Ah,” Kathryn drew out. “It was a real lifesaver. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I have a friend who—” Something caught his eye just over Kathryn’s shoulder, and he cursed under his breath.
Kathryn turned in her seat. “What is it?”
“Trouble.” He pointed out the car window, and with his finger, traced the path of a tall redheaded woman as she entered the store.
“Who is that?”
“Satan.”
Kathryn gave him a no-nonsense look, and he knew he’d better start talking, and fast. “That’s Marcella, Jenny’s ex-girlfiend.”
Kathryn stared at the door as if she could still see a glimpse of the woman.
“Jenny caught her screwing the doorman of their apartment building. In their apartment, in their own bed. And what’s worse, it was her birthday, the same night Jenny lost her dad.” He shook his head. “Poor thing. She comes back from the morgue only to find that noise going on. Bitch. Jenny walked out of that apartment and never looked back. And I mean that.” Bernie tapped her on the shoulder to make sure she knew Jenny was unforgiving of betrayal. “She wouldn’t even go back there for her things. I had to go in there and pack up her belongings. I don’t think she’s seen Marcy since.”
He’d barely finished his sentence before Kathryn unfolded herself from the car and tucked her purse under her arm as she strode toward the grocery store.
“Hoo,” Bernie drew out with glee as he leaned out the open window. “This is gonna be good.”
Once inside, Kathryn easily found the ex. She was a stunning woman with porcelain-like skin and a confident grace that made it easy to understand how Jenny would be drawn to her. Kathryn was surprised to feel a tendril of jealousy straighten her spine, but it was quickly displaced by anger for what she’d done to Jenny.
Marcella had a look of sinister mischief creasing the corners of her perfectly painted mouth. Kathryn followed her eyes to Jenny, arriving at the checkout line. The she-devil picked up an obviously random item from a shelf and quickly made sure she was next in line.
Kathryn picked up her own random item and made for the front register.
She watched the redhead lean into Jenny’s ear from behind and saw the life drain from her face.
Kathryn was close enough to hear Jenny say, “Don’t speak to me, Marcy.” Her words were as cold as her expression.
“Oh, now, sugar,” Marcella said. “Don’t be that way.”
Jenny slammed her detergent on the counter. Kathryn anticipated a tirade that would make a sailor blush, so she quickly excused her way to the front of the line, a bag of coffee held high, and caught Jenny’s attention, silencing her.
“Sorry, excuse me, sorry,” she said as she brushed past the ex with a not so accidental jostle.
“Say, sister,” Marcella said in irritation.
Kathryn turned and offered a sweet smile. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“Say,” the redhead repeated seductively, as if she had a chance in hell. “Be my guest.”
“Thank you.”
Kathryn took her place beside an astonished but grateful Jenny. “Okay, honey, here’s the coffee. Are you sure we don’t need anything else?”
“Uh, no … sweetie,” Jenny said, catching on quickly. “That’s it.”
The look on Marcella’s face was priceless. Stuck in a place between shock and envy, her expression was very much like the ridiculous look on a Kewpie doll, the kind one wins at the amusement park for a nickel a try.
“Ration coupon for the coffee, hon?” The cashier held out her hand.
“Oh—” Jenny blinked. She reached into her purse and pulled out her ration booklet. She was out of coffee stamps for the month. “I uh—”
“It’s my turn,” Kathryn spoke up as she plunked the appropriate stamp into the cashier’s hand and showed her ID.
She saw Jenny staring at her like she could kiss her right there in the line at the A&P for castrating her ex-lover, and Kathryn had to admit, she got a thrill out of it.
She paid and took her change and watched Jenny calmly head for the door without a backward glance to her painful past.
“Say,” the redhead tugged on Kathryn’s elbow before she could follow.
Kathryn turned and found a card with a phone number thrust into her face.
“When you get tired of kindergarten recess, why don’t you graduate to a real woman?” Marcella whispered.
Kathryn cut the suggestion down with a warning look that saw the woman physically wither. She awkwardly put the card away, as the people in line behind her made their impatience known.
Kathryn hurried out the door and caught up to Jenny, placing a protective hand on her back for the short walk to the car.
Bernie watched the women approach with broad smiles on their faces and saw Satan appear over their shoulders as she emerged from the store and stared at them with her hands on her hips. Smitty started the car and pulled into the street as Bernie gleefully shot Marcella double birds out the back window.