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question or something? I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t paying attention—which I wasn’t, of course—but still.
    Instantly, I channeled my mom’s I’m-better-than-you attitude. Mom’s a former beauty queen. Really. On rare instances—like solar eclipses, and now—something she taught me paid off.
    I downgraded Mom’s I’m-better-than-you look to my own I’m-giving-your-words-careful-consideration look. I’ve found if I hold it long enough, the other person will eventually say something.
    Jeez, I wish Adela would say something.
    â€œIf you’d like to think over our offer and review the new-hire package, that’s fine,” she said.
    Yikes! She thought I was reluctant to accept the job here. Quickly, I morphed my expression into my I’ve-suddenly-made-up-my-mind look.
    â€œEverything sounds perfect,” I said, and managed to sit still when I really wanted to do a backflip off her desk.
    â€œExcellent.” Adela pulled a big folder from her desk drawer and passed it to me. “I’m so glad you could come in today because we’ve got several other new hires going through orientation. We’ll put you in with them and you can start working tomorrow.”
    My heart hammered in my chest as I walked the corridor with Adela. She was gesturing and explaining which department was which, where things were, who worked where. At least, I guess that’s what she was saying. I drifted off.
    All I could think was that I could stop by the Holt’s store on my way home and quit my job.
    I’d call Marcie right away and give her the news. We’d have to go shopping immediately. Maybe she could leave work early today.
    I’d go by Ty’s office and tell him. He’d be so happy for me—as long as I wasn’t interrupting a meeting, of course.
    Adela led the way into a large conference room. Two men and a woman, all dressed in please-hire-me suits, were seated at the table clutching the same big folder as me. I took the chair farthest from the front of the room—old habit.
    A woman stood at the head of the conference table pulling a screen down from the ceiling. My spirits dipped a little. Apparently we were in for the Dempsey Rowland version of Death by PowerPoint.
    Adela introduced me to the other new hires, then gestured to the woman at the front of the room.
    â€œThis is Violet Hamilton. Violet heads up our security department,” Adela said, then left the room.
    Violet looked kind of old to head up much of anything. She was a tiny woman, barely five foot three, and I doubted she weighed much more than the last pair of thigh-high boots I’d bought. Her snow white hair was styled in an I-never-got-over-the-fifties helmet, and she had on a bright pink suit.
    She looked like Retirement Home Barbie.
    But maybe she had a little New Millennium Barbie in her. A laptop sat on the conference table near her. And perhaps she also had some I’m-Better-Than-You Barbie in her because a Burberry laptop case sat close by. Granted, it was an older style—a special line of pink and black accessories they’d trotted out a few years ago—but it was a designer label and she was working it big time.
    â€œI’d like to stress to each of you the importance of completing your paperwork,” Violet said, gesturing to the folders we’d all been given. “It’s mandatory that you answer each and every question put to you. You will not receive your security clearance—and remember, you can’t work for Dempsey Rowland without it—until your background investigation is done.”
    Wait a minute. Security clearance? Background information? What the heck was she talking about?
    â€œHow long does it take to get a clearance?” a man—whose name I’d already forgotten—seated next to me asked.
    Maybe this was something Adela was talking about in her office.
    â€œThere are