The Hostage Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

inspection, I guess,” the woman related. “Pam was just talking to Andy in the service department and he said he had to hang up because a couple of bigwigs from Taylor Machines were there.”
    A cold finger left an invisible icy trail down her spine. “No, I didn’t know,” she admitted, and attempted to show that she didn’t attach any importance to the news. She laid the invoice on Susan’s desk to show her. “You didn’t double-check when you multiplied the unit price against the amount. You will have to send a corrected invoice to the customer and adjust the total on his account.”
    “I did make a mistake, didn’t I?” the woman admitted absently and rushed back to her previous subject. “Do you suppose they’ll come here?”
    “I’m sure they will, but I expect we will be notified before they appear.” That is, if Harold Stein thought of it.
    Susan Dunn opened her middle desk drawer to take out a tube of lipstick and a mirror. She glanced at Tamara as she applied a fresh coat of red to her mouth. “We have to put our best footforward for the new bosses, don’t we?” She winked.
    “Susan, you are incorrigible.” Tamara shook her head in wry dismay. “Instead of worrying about your ‘best foot,’ I’d worry about being ‘on your toes.’” As she started to leave, she reminded her, “Don’t forget to correct that invoice.”
    “I won’t.”
    Secluded in her private office once more, Tamara felt a shaking relief set in. They were here, which meant part of her waiting was over. She would be glad when this whole mess was straightened out and this sensation of dangling over the edge of a precipice would be ended.
    For the rest of the morning, Tamara was kept abreast of the movements of the two executives through the various departments by her accounting staff. One of the girls had gleaned the information that Bickford T. Rutledge himself was one of the pair. Tamara was skeptical of that rumor. More than likely it was one of his many vice-presidents with the large firm.
    Every time her extension rang that morning, Tamara jumped. She kept expecting to have the imminent arrival of her new employers announced. It didn’t come. Rumor had it that the tour had become stalled in the laboratory. No doubt Harold Stein had become carried away with an explanation of how his new duplicating device was supposed to work, if he succeeded.
    A knock at her door brought an impatient “Yes?” from Tamara. She was really getting tired of these progress reports. At this rate, verylittle work was getting done because of the constant discussion of the whereabouts of their new employers.
    The door opened and Susan stuck her head in. “Pam and Rachel are going to watch things while the rest of us go to lunch. Are you coming?”
    Tamara glanced at her watch, surprised to find that time had finally dragged itself around to the noon hour. “No, I’m not really hungry.” She was too nervous. “And I have this work to finish.” She indicated the papers in front of her.
    “Do you want me to bring you a sandwich?” Susan offered.
    Common sense insisted that she had to eat something. Tamara opened the desk drawer where she kept her purse. “The vending machine in the employee’s lounge still has yogurt, doesn’t it?” At Susan’s affirmative nod, Tamara handed her some change. “Bring me back a container.”
    “Right away,” Susan promised, and pulled the door shut as she left. Within a few minutes she was back to set a container of peach yogurt and a plastic spoon on Tamara’s desk. “I don’t see how you can eat that stuff,” Susan declared, making a face and shuddering. Tamara just smiled and waved the woman on her way.
    The yogurt required little effort to eat, sliding down her throat with ease. Tamara doubted if her churning stomach would have tolerated anything more solid. She ate spoonfuls from the plastic container between posting entries in the columnar ledger.
    Her door swung open without the