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slight frown that two secretaries were not yet at their desks. In a habitual gesture, he passed a hand over his hair. “Your assistant will be in momentarily. Once you’re settled, Mrs. Wallace, I’ll expect you to keep close tabs on her comings and goings. Your efficiency depends largely on hers.”
    â€œOf course.”
    Her office was small and dull. She tried not to wish for something airier—or to notice that Rosen was as stuffy as they came. The increase this job would bring to her income would make things better for Radley. That, as always, was the bottom line. She’d make it work, Hester told herself as she took off her coat. She’d make it work well.
    Rosen obviously approved of her trim black suit and understated jewelry. There was no room for flashy clothes or behavior in banking. “I trust you looked over the files I gave you.”
    â€œI familiarized myself with them over the weekend.” She moved behind the desk, knowing it would establish her position. “I believe I understand National Trust’s policy and procedure.”
    â€œExcellent, excellent. I’ll leave you to get organized then. Your first appointment’s at”—he turned pages over on her desk calendar—“9:15. If you have any problems, contact me. I’m always around somewhere.”
    She would have bet on it. “I’m sure everything will be fine, Mr. Rosen. Thank you.”
    With a final nod, Rosen strode out. The door closed behind him with a quiet click. Alone, Hester let herself slide bonelessly into her chair. She’d gotten past the first hurdle, she told herself. Rosen thought she was competent and suitable. Now all she had to do was be those things. She would be, because too much was riding on it. Not the least of those things was her pride. She hated making a fool of herself. She’d certainly done a good job of that the night before with the new neighbor.
    Even hours later, remembering it, her cheeks warmed. She hadn’t meant to insult the man’s—even now she couldn’t bring herself to call it a profession—his work, then, Hester decided. She certainly hadn’t meant to make any personal observations. The problem had been that she hadn’t been as much on her guard as usual. The man had thrown her off by inviting himself in and joining them for dinner and charming Radley, all in a matter of minutes. She wasn’t used to people popping into her life. And she didn’t like it.
    Radley loved it. Hester picked up a sharpened pencil with the bank’s logo on the side. He’d practically glowed with excitement and hadn’t been able to speak of anything else even after Mitch Dempsey had left.
    She could be grateful for one thing. The visit had taken Radley’s mind off the new school. Radley had always made friends easily, and if this Mitch was willing to give her son some pleasure, she shouldn’t criticize. In any case, the man seemed harmless enough. Hester refused to admit to the uncomfortable thrill she’d experienced when his hand had closed over hers. What possible trouble could come from a man who wrote comic books for a living? She caught herself chewing at her lipstick at the question.
    The knock on the door was brief and cheerful. Before she could call out, it was pushed open.
    â€œGood morning, Mrs. Wallace. I’m Kay Lorimar, your assistant. Remember, we met for a few minutes a couple of weeks ago.”
    â€œYes, good morning, Kay.” Her assistant was everything Hester had always wanted to be herself: petite, well-rounded, blond, with small delicate features. She folded her hands on the fresh blotter and tried to look authoritative.
    â€œSorry I’m late.” Kay smiled and didn’t look the least bit sorry. “Everything takes longer than you think it does on Monday. Even if I pretend it’s Tuesday, it doesn’t seem to help. I don’t know why. Would you like