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obviously didn’t see her. There really ought to be an age restriction on renewing a driver’s license.”
    “Did she hit you?” Mel asked.
    “No,” Avery answered. “I dove to get out of her way when she came roaring around the corner. I ended up flying across the hood of a Mercedes and whacked my knee on the hood ornament. I recognized the Cadillac. It belongs to Mrs. Speigel, who lives in my building. I think she’s about ninety. She’s not supposed to drive anymore, but every once in a while I’ll see her taking the car out to do errands.”
    “Did she stop?” Mel asked.
    She shook her head. “I don’t think she had a clue I was there. She was accelerating so fast I was just glad there weren’t any other people in her way.”
    “You’re right, Lou,” Margo said. She disappeared behind her cubicle wall, bent down to push the box of copy paper into the corner, and then stood on top of it. She was suddenly as tall as Mel. “There should be an age limit on keeping a license. Avery told us the woman was so little she couldn’t see her head over the back of the seat. Just a puff of gray hair.”
    “Our bodies shrink as we age,” Mel said. “Just think, Margo. When you’re ninety, no one will be able to see you.”
    Margo, a petite five feet two inches, wasn’t offended. “I’ll just wear higher heels.”
    The phone rang, interrupting the conversation. Avery jumped at the sound, then checked the time. It was 10:14.
    “This is it,” she whispered as it rang a second time.
    “Answer it,” Margo anxiously demanded.
    Avery picked up the phone on the third ring. “Avery Delaney.”
    “Mr. Carter would like to see you in his office at ten-thirty, Miss Delaney.”
    She recognized the voice. Carter’s secretary had a distinct Maine accent. “I’ll be there.”
    Three pairs of eyes watched her as she hung up the phone. “Oh, boy,” she whispered.
    “What?” Margo, the most impatient of the group, demanded.
    “Carter wants to see me.”
    “Uh-oh. That can’t be good.” Mel made the remark, and then, as if he realized he’d said something he shouldn’t have, added, “You want us to go with you?”
    “You’d do that?” Avery asked, surprised by the offer.
    “I don’t want to, but I would.”
    “It’s okay. I’ll take the bullet alone.”
    “I think we should all go,” Margo said. “A mass firing. I mean, we’re all in this together, right?”
    “Yes,” Avery agreed. “But you three tried to talk me out of going to Andrews. Remember? I’m the only one who screwed up.” She stood, put the icepack on top of the file cabinet, and reached for her jacket.
    “This can’t be good,” Mel repeated. “They’re breaking the chain of command. It must be really bad to get the boss’s boss involved. Carter was just promoted to head of in-house operations.”
    “Which means he’s now the boss’s boss’s boss,” Margo pointed out.
    “I wonder if all the bosses will be there,” Lou said.
    “Right,” Avery muttered. “Maybe all three of them want to take a turn firing me.” She buttoned her suit jacket and then said, “How do I look?”
    “Like someone tried to run over you,” Mel said.
    “Your hose are shredded,” Margo told her.
    “I know. I thought I had another pair in my drawer, but I didn’t.”
    “I’ve got an extra pair.”
    “Thanks, Margo, but you’re a petite, and I’m not. Mel, Lou, turn around or sit down.”
    As soon as they turned their backs, she reached up under her skirt and pulled off her panty hose. Then she put her heels back on.
    She was sorry now she’d worn the suit. She usually wore pants and a blouse, but she was going to a luncheon today and so she’d pulled out all the stops and put on the Armani suit her aunt Carrie had sent as a present two years ago. The color was a wonderful taupe gray and had a matching sleeveless V neck shell. At one time there had been an obscene slit up the side, but Avery had sewn it together. It was a