Free The Golden Chance by Jayne Ann Krentz Page A

intimately. But she realized suddenly that she would be very glad to leave this place.
    She sat at a table that was sheathed in chipped, gray Formica in Emerson's Four Star Café, a cracked mug full of coffee in front of her. Outside on the hot sidewalk a few people hurried from their cars to the nearest air-conditioned business establishments.
    “Going to be a hot one today,” Thelma Anderson announced as she slid into the seat across from Phila.
    Phila smiled faintly at her friend and former supervisor. “You've been living here too long, Thelma.”
    “What makes you say that?” the older woman demanded, her dark eyes snapping.
    “It's a sure sign you've been in Holloway too long when the first thing you mention is the weather.”
    “This is farming country,” Thelma pointed out casually. “Farmers always talk about the weather. I'm just trying to blend in. How's the coffee?”
    “As bad as ever.”
    “Good. I'll have a cup.” She signaled to the waitress, who nodded to her from the other side of the counter. Then Thelma turned back to Phila with an assessing eye. “So you're really going to do it, huh? You're going to quit for good? I can't talk you into coming back to your old job?”
    Phila shook her head. “No. But I'm going to miss you, Thelma.” And she meant it. She would miss her friend's short, no-nonsense haircut, her functional navy-blue skirts and white blouses and serviceable walking shoes. Thelma, who knew all the secret methods of shoving paperwork through an overburdened system that periodically tried to choke itself to death on forms and multiple copies and reports done in triplicate.
    Thelma was dedicated and she was good at what she did, but somewhere along the line she had learned the trick of detaching herself enough emotionally from her work to ensure her own survival. Phila knew after the Spalding trial that she herself would never be able to develop that detachment. She was finished as a social worker.
    “I have to get out, Thelma. I need a change.”
    Thelma regarded her soberly. “Yes, I think you do,” she said finally. “You've been through hell. It takes awhile to recover. Feeling any better?”
    “Some.” Phila smiled again, realizing it was the truth. She had been feeling better, more focused , since she had made her decision to go to Port Claxton.
    “A summer on the coast will be good for you. You always did like the ocean. Can you handle it financially?”
    “Yes, thanks to Crissie's insurance policy. It wasn't much but together with my savings, it will keep me going for a while.”
    “How did you manage to get a place near the beach at this time of year?” Thelma demanded. “Port Claxton summer houses are always booked months in advance. I know, I've tried to get in once or twice, myself.”
    “Someone I know pulled a few strings for me.”
    Thelma grinned. “A man?”
    “Uh huh.”
    “Well, good for you. Just what you need to take your mind off that trial and your friend's death. It's time you put it all behind you, Phila.”
    Phila shrugged. She did not want to explain to Thelma that Crissie's death was still very much on her mind and that she was far from letting it go. “You'll keep in touch, won't you, Thelma?”
    “You know I will. We won't be forgetting you around here anytime soon, Philadelphia Fox. If it hadn't been for you we never would have nailed Elijah Spalding. You're a heroine in the office.”
    “You'd have gotten him sooner or later.”
    “Later, maybe.” Thelma sounded skeptical. “After a lot more kids had been abused and psychologically scarred for life. Later would have been too late for a lot of them.” She shook her head. “Cases like that are so blasted frustrating. Everyone in the office knew what was going on, and no one could prove a thing. Every time we sent the sheriff out to the Spalding farm things were in apple-pie order. The kids were too frightened to talk, and Spalding's wife was useless.”
    “Ruth was as frightened