A Hope Undaunted (11 page)

L
EGAL
D
EPARTMENT
. The gold lettering on the bubbled glass door suddenly swam before her, and immediately she wanted to throw up – an effect Cluny McGee obviously had on her. But the die was cast, as her father liked to say, and she supposed there was no turning back now. She sucked in a bolstering swallow of air and put her hand to the knob, holding that very breath until the door squealed open.

She blinked twice, blinded by sunlight streaming in from a wall of imposing windows, each opened wide to the sounds of the city below. Somewhere outside, a jackhammer was grinding, merging with the wailing of a siren and the honk of a horn while an early-morning breeze ushered in the scent of the sea and the distinct smell of asphalt. Above it all rose the click-click of typewriter keys and the faint sound of men’s voices punctuated by laughter.

The office itself, although quite large and rectangular, had a decidedly cozy feel, and Katie couldn’t figure out why. Other than a few spindly potted plants by the windows and several framed city scenes interspersed on various dingy walls, the room was anything but warm. Certainly the dated gray file cabinets lining one side did nothing to help, nor did the three gargantuan wooden desks arranged in a row. Although a warm oak color, each was badly scarred and littered with papers, lending a disheveled air to the already shabby furnishings. To the far right of the room ran a span of three to four office doors, some closed, some beckoning with beams of hazy sunlight spilling forth, as if the glory of God resided within. Or someone cocky enough to
think
he was God, Katie thought with a shift of her jaw.

“May I help you, miss?”

Katie startled, suddenly aware she was gaping. She stared at the pretty woman who occupied the front desk, then straightened her shoulders and jutted her chin to deflect the heat in her cheeks. “Yes, thank you. My name is Katie O’Connor, your new volunteer for the summer.”

The woman nodded and gave her a polite smile, but Katie thought she detected a glint of humor in her hazel eyes. She rose smoothly from her chair and moved effortlessly around the desk, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “Hello, Katie, we’ve been expecting you. My name is Betty Galetti, and I’m the secretary here.”

Katie stared, totally aware that her jaw was sagging, but she was too stunned to care. Her eyes traveled from the top of the woman’s shimmering auburn hair down to a sleek, shapely torso that flowed into two perfectly formed legs that went on forever. Katie extended a hand while her head tipped up in awe, feeling for all of her five foot two that she’d been stunted at birth. “Pleased to meet you, Betty,” she said with a tone of respect. “And forgive me, please, but . . . would you mind if I asked how tall you are?”

The woman’s full scarlet lips widened into a charming smile, despite the meticulous application of lipstick in the narrow Cupid’s-bow style. There was no mistaking the twinkle in the hazel eyes now. “Only five foot ten,” she said with a bold grin. “But the heels are two and a half inches.” She cocked one perfectly shaped leg back, revealing a buttercream pump with a high heel and a curved pointed toe, a near-perfect match for her pretty cream shift. She leaned close to Katie with a conspiratorial smile, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Call me crazy, but I think the height helps when Luke – ” a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her full mouth – “I mean
Mr. McGee
. . . gets a mind to bully us around.”

Katie awarded Betty with a genuine flash of teeth, almost giddy at the thought of moral support in her war against Luke McGee. “Trust me, if he’s as cocky as he was at the age of fourteen when he barely came to my knees, I can’t imagine what he must be like now. But so help me, I think I’m about to find out.”

“No question about that,” Betty said with a throaty laugh. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’re going to sit.”

She led Katie to the third desk at the back of the room, right in front of a second-story window where she could see and feel the frenetic pace of the city below – clanging trolleys, darting autos, and an endless scurry of people and things. The energy of Boston, which, like the heat of the summer, seemed to ripple skyward in waves of exhilaration that triggered Katie’s pulse. She closed her eyes and breathed in the promise of adventure and independence that came with a career in the city. She felt the coziness she’d sensed earlier slowly seep into her bones.
Mmm . . . maybe this will be fun
after all
, she thought with relief.

“Good, you’re finally here.”

Katie’s eyes opened a fraction, causing the contentment to sour on her lips.
Then again, maybe not.

Luke glanced at his watch and forced a polite smile. “Good morning, Miss O’Connor, welcome to the Boston Children’s Aid Society – we’re glad you’re here.” He nodded toward a wooden time clock on the wall where the timepiece registered 9:10. His tone, as crisp and professional as the charcoal double-breasted suit he wore, matched the superior lift of his thick blond brows. A faint smile hovered on his lips. “But just for future reference, you may want to note we start work at eight sharp. Miss Galetti here will be happy to show you how to clock in.”

His blue eyes lighted on Betty with hypnotic quality. “Betty, once you get her settled in, please bring her into Parker’s office – we’ll be going over agent applications.” He turned to go.

“Uh, excuse me . . . Luke.” Katie’s tone attempted a show of humility.

The broad back froze before slowly wheeling halfway. The tight line of his chiseled jaw defied the faint smile on his lips. “Yes, Miss O’Connor? Oh, and just for propriety’s sake, perhaps you better call me Mr. McGee.”

The steel in her chin lifted to meet his. “I was just wondering . . .
Mr. McGee
. . . why do I need to clock in?”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

Katie placed her purse on the desk and casually clasped her hands to her back, brows arched in innocence. “I mean, if this is volunteer work and I don’t get paid,
sir
, why do I need to punch a payroll time card?”

The professional smile eased wide into battle as he turned to face her dead-on, arms casually crossed like an ad from
Vanity Fair
. As usual, those annoying blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her despite a glimmer of a twinkle. “Why, to keep track of your hours, of course, and to maintain both our professionalism
and
your commendable commitment to volunteer. After all, Miss O’Connor, this
is
a workplace.”

She ground her jaw, incensed at the heat swarming her cheeks – a condition provoked only by the runt this man used to be. She propped hands on her hips and took a step forward, careful to enunciate each word slowly so it would sink into his hard, hard head. “But,
Mr. McGee
. . . I-don’t-get-paid.”

His exasperating calm remained intact, along with the patient curve of his lips. “Oh, but you do get paid, Miss O’Connor. I’m quite certain the reward of helping children will be more than payment enough.” The smile tugged enough to indicate he was fighting a grin. “That and the promise of law school,
if
you should be fortunate enough to go.” He glanced at his watch once again, then dismissed her with a dazzling smile. “Excuse me, but I’m late for a meeting.”

For the second time since she arrived, Katie stood gaping, the click of his door a slap in her face. She felt the fire in her cheeks clear up to her eyes. “God, help me . . . I can’t do this.”

“Oh yes you can, sweetie.” Betty placed a tapered hand on Katie’s arm and steered her toward the time clock, a hint of soothing in her tone. She leaned close to whisper in her ear. “You just have to learn how to handle him.”

Katie peered up, eyes squinted. “What, you have a manual on dealing with morons?”

Betty chuckled and pulled a time card from a slot, then nodded toward the closed door. “Nope, but I have some experience in dealing with
that
one. Here, just write your name on a card every week and punch it in this machine when you come or go.” She handed the card to Katie with a secret smile. “Luke and I grew up together, you know, so I had to learn the hard way.”

Katie snatched the card with a roll of her eyes. “As if there’s an easy way with a clod like him.”

The woman’s smile shifted to the right. “Nope, nothing’s easy with Luke, that’s for sure.” Her features softened for the briefest of moments as a touch of melancholy shadowed her smile. But then it was gone in a blink of her eyes. “Especially if you fall for him.”

Katie froze, her hand glued to the time card she’d inserted halfway. “
Fall
for him?” she uttered in profound disbelief. She turned to stare, her jaw distended for the third time that morning. She snapped it shut, wondering why anything ever shocked her when it came to McGee.

Betty smiled and arched a brow. “Or so I’ve heard,” she said in a smooth tone.

Katie rammed the card all the way in and jerked it out quickly, flinging it into an empty slot as if her fingers were on fire. “Well, the saints be praised, there’s no danger there.”

“The trick is to not let him rile you,” Betty continued with a graceful flick of her hair. She moved toward Katie’s desk with a mesmerizing sway of her hips. “It’s kind of like a shark with the scent of blood in the water.” She turned and smiled, trailing ruby-red nails along the back of Katie’s chair. “If you let him get under your skin, you’re lunch.”

A moan erupted from Katie’s throat. She plopped against the edge of her desk and folded her arms. “Oh, that’s just great. I may as well stop breathing.”

Betty’s soft giggle floated up as she bent to open a drawer. “In these three drawers, you’ll find everything you need for typing, filing, and general appeasement of both Lu – er, Mr. McGee, our assistant director, and Mr. Riley, the director.”

“Well, at least he’s not the top boss,” Katie blurted in relief.

Sympathy radiated from Betty’s patient smile. “Sorry. Parker Riley is Luke’s best friend from school and a real softie with a heart of gold. Which means he usually lets Luke badger him into having his own way.”

Katie groaned and put her face in her hands. “Maybe law school is not such a good idea.”

“Oh, that’s right. Mr. McGee mentioned you hoped to attend Portia Law School in the fall. How exciting!”

“Not if my father refuses to pay for it. Which, if he gets his way – ” Katie jerked a thumb toward the closed door – “may just happen.” She squinted up at Betty. “Do we really have to call him Mr. McGee?”

Betty blew on the keys of Katie’s battered typewriter, and dust flew up in a cloud. She scrunched her nose. “Just for a while . . . at least till he loosens up. But believe it or not, he’s just as nervous as you.”

“He is?” Katie tried out the chair with a spin, then put her purse in the drawer. She peered up after opening and closing the drawers, making a mental list of questions to ask and things she needed to do. Her inner smile was devious.
Like
annoy Luke McGee.

“Yep. He says you’re a handful.”

“Humph . . . that’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

Betty grinned and reached for some papers off another desk and tossed them on Katie’s. “Uh-huh, which is why I’m glad you’re here. Bobbie Sue and I think this will be fun to watch. Come on, I’ll teach you how to fill out these forms in a minute. But first, I need to show you something.”

“Sure. Who’s Bobbie Sue?”

Betty casually strolled the length of the room to the far front corner, motioning for Katie to follow. “Bobbie Sue Dulay. You might say she’s our Southern contingent at the BCAS and a real ray of Georgia sunshine. She’s kind of like a permanent paid volunteer who does whatever we need – typing, filing, babysitting.”

“Babysitting?” Katie’s incredulous tone took a turn toward sweet. “Oh . . . you mean for Mr. McGee.”

Betty turned around with a chuckle and folded her arms. “Oh my, Bobbie Sue’s just gonna love you. No, she provides foster care when we need it. Has eight children living with her right now. That is, until we can place them in permanent homes. They’re all in school, of course, which is why she’s able to help us out during the day. Right now she’s over at the BSCG, the Boston Society for the Care of Girls, which is an affiliation of the BCAS. Bobbie Sue fills in over there whenever Miss Lillian needs her.”

“Miss Lillian?”

“The director for the BSCG. She’s a little thing and every bit of seventy-five years old, but she’s a real pistol who runs the orphanage as efficiently as a small army. She’s worked at the BSCG for years, as far back as when it was called the Boston Female Asylum. Back then, it only took in orphaned and disadvantaged girls ages three through twelve. Now it takes in young women up to eighteen, providing schooling and skills they’ll need on their own.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Katie breathed. A surge of pride filled her chest that she would be working for an organization that bettered the lives of women. Her heart started to race. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . working at the BCAS would be a good thing after all.

“Bobbie Sue’s over there today, filling in for one of the cooks who took sick.”

A frown creased Katie’s brow. “Goodness, not from the food, I hope?”

Betty grinned. “No, all of our cooks are great and pretty good at serving up just what our kids need.” She stepped aside and waved her hand at the table behind her, which sported a brand-new dripolater coffeepot and several stacks of cups and saucers. Suddenly, in a flutter of sooty lashes, the sympathetic smile was back. “And speaking of ‘serving,’ your first task of the day will be to make coffee and take it in to Mr. McGee.” Her lips twitched enough for Katie to notice. “He says it’s to be your job while you’re here.”

Irritation bubbled inside of Katie’s stomach like a pot of vinegar about to boil over. “He wants me to make coffee
and
serve it to him?” she rasped, feeling the acrid steam in her eyes.

Betty chuckled and reached for the pot, then gave Katie a gentle pat. “Oh, you can do it, Katie,” she whispered. She placed the pot in her hand with a wink. “Just think of it as poison.”