One We Love, The Read Online Free PDF Page A

had
shown me at my best, but I pasted a professional smile on my face and stuck my
hand out anyway.
    Her grasp was strong, almost painful, but she released my
hand the second before I would’ve been sure she was aiming for intimidation. I
was surprised to find her dressed very smartly. The soft grey suit wasn’t Bruno
Grizzo, but she hadn’t picked up the ensemble at Wally-world either.
    “Why don’t we talk in my office?” she said, with a glance at
Astrid. A look passed between them, too quick to interpret. I followed Clotilde,
hurrying to keep up with her long strides, just as Astrid had. A row of offices
ran the length of the hall opposite the group counseling room so it was only a
distance of about forty feet, which was good because I hadn’t been keeping up
with my aerobics and I was already sweating from nerves.
    Her office was as I expected. A small room, crowded with
papers and books, various newspaper photos showing Devlin House over the years
hanging in cheap frames on the walls. The furniture was hand-me-down
expensive—items that had been donated from wealthy benefactors and put to good
use. The only object in the room looking relatively new was the computer.
    Clotilde motioned to a straight-backed, wooden chair placed
in front of the desk. I sat, feeling the chair wobble on uneven legs. A
power play . Or just another ancient donation?  
    “Astrid tells me—” She broke off as the door opened. A third
Amazon entered, joining Clotilde behind the desk. She remained standing,
reminding me of a bodyguard or a dueler’s second. In contrast to Clotilde’s
smart business attire, she wore a baggy pantsuit in a pea green tone that did
nothing for her complexion. No makeup, of course. None of them wore any that I
could tell, making me feel like a harlot with my eyeliner and lip gloss.
    Clotilde went on without introducing us. “Astrid tells me
that you are here representing Regina.” Her voice tilted at the end, making a
question out of the fact as though she couldn’t quite believe that Astrid had
communicated correctly.
    “Her professional estate, yes,” I answered, pulling a copy
of Regina’s instructions out and laying them on the desk between us. “She named
me executor of her professional duties and listed very clearly what that would
entail. In addition to settling her client cases at the clinic where we worked
together, I’m to do the same here. I’m sure you’re well aware of Regina’s
organizational skills.” I smiled to show we were on the same team. They didn’t.
    Clotilde nodded noncommittally throughout my little speech.
Her bodyguard, however, had no such compunction, frowning at the sheaf of
papers as though her eyes could ignite them. Following Clotilde’s lead, I kept
my face expressionless, a professional mask. She picked up the instructions and
began reading. She didn’t hurry, and I concentrated on sitting still,
projecting an air of confidence on loan from somewhere. Maybe I was channeling
Regina. When she finished, Clotilde cleared her throat, glancing up once,
enigmatically, at her sidekick.
    “Everything seems to be in order,” she said. “However, we’ll
need to decide how to proceed. There are certain protocols that would need to
be followed. The shelter and our clients have very specific needs, and I’m sure
that Regina, of all people, would want us to protect them.”
    “I understand,” I said, although I didn’t. “I don’t want to
disrupt your program any more than necessary, especially after all that’s
occurred. Of course, I’ll need access to Regina’s client list and files, and
I’ll need to meet with her clients. We’re arranging a grief support group at
the clinic; I’m sure we could expand it to include any client here who might
find it helpful.”
    “It’s just that sort of thing that causes difficulties,” Clotilde
said. “We don’t want our residents to be out in public areas any more than
necessary. Their situations are often very