Free Five O’Clock Shadow by Susan Slater Page A

Wine Festival hanging behind the desk, a Betty Sabo with adobe church and gnarled grape vines in varying shades of fall brown.
    â€œMr. Dougal chose that. It’s just right for this room, don’t you think?”
    Pauly agreed and thought of how helpful Tom had been. Apologized for his hastiness in thinking she might not be right for the Water Conservancy project. Said that it was hers if she still wanted it, that he’d help fill in the gaps, sort of tutor her if she thought she needed it. Then he’d suggested dinner.
    On Friday. If she didn’t think it was too soon. And that was his way of letting her know that he considered it a date,
wanted
it to be a date, had even sent a dozen yellow roses to confirm it.
    â€œWill there be anything else? You can buzz me on the intercom.”
    â€œThat’s fine, Noralee. Thank you.” Pauly waited for the door that connected her large office with the secretary’s alcove to click shut. Then she sank into the high-backed leather executive chair and half-heartedly wished that sitting in such a chair could turn her into one—an executive, savvy and slick and self-reliant.
    If the truth were known, her bluff was wearing thin. All those reserves of self-reliance didn’t seem to remain so readily available. Did she really want to do this? Take over a project on which no one wanted her? How far would she go out of spite? Just to prove that she could? But then again, what else did she have to do? And wasn’t she committed to finding a killer? That part of her resolve hadn’t wavered. She would devote her life to finding that answer.
    On impulse, she rose and walked to a file cabinet, pulling the top drawer open. Empty. The second, the third, the fourth drawer—all empty. Just more proof that they thought her incompetent. Empty head, empty files. She hit the intercom button with her fist. Noralee answered the buzzer immediately.
    â€œI need the files on the Rio Grande River project, especially the University study, the one completed last summer.”
    â€œMr. Brandon and Mr. Dougal thought that it would be better if—”
    â€œNoralee, please step in here.” Pauly wasn’t going to discuss Brandon/Dougal issues over the intercom. The door opened and Noralee fairly slunk into the room as she avoided eye contact.
    â€œGet comfortable. We have some things we need to discuss.” Pauly waited for Noralee to pull up a chair upholstered in wine-red leather, its rounded arms defined by brass studs. More furniture of Noralee’s choosing; she must find the place quite comfy. Pauly gave it another minute, a little squirm-time, before she began.
    â€œThe files are empty. I have no supplies, no computer. There is furniture in this room but little more. I am not a figurehead. I’m here to work. And that means tools and materials. I believe that you can make arrangements to supply those?”
    â€œIt’s just that Mr. Brandon and—”
    â€œNoralee, I will say this just once. I don’t give a large rat’s behind what either of the two
other
principals think, do, et cetera—you work for me. If that’s going to be a problem, let’s give your replacement some thought right now.”
    â€œNo.” Noralee looked startled. “I mean I really want to work for you. I worked for Mr. McIntyre.” A nervous laugh while she checked the heel of her shoe. “But, of course, you know that. It’s just that it will take some getting used to, that’s all.” The woman was obviously uncomfortable.
    â€œHow ’bout I allow you the next two seconds to do just that?” Pauly could feel the anger. How dare they set her up to be ineffective. To fail or just not work at all. Give her the office, the title, and nothing more. Take for granted that she couldn’t handle the workload without giving her a chance to prove herself.
    â€œAnything I can help with?” Tom had pushed open