Chapter 4: The Monday Office

Sabina's POV

I got to the Foundation office at seven on Monday, the way I had every working day for ten years.

The building was a converted rectory behind St. Brendan's.

It had a brass plaque by the door and a donor wall in the front hall.

Dell's face was not on the donor wall, but I saw it anyway when I hung my coat on the hook.

She had looked thin on Saturday.

She had looked like her father, the line of the jaw, the stubbornness.

I made coffee and turned on the printer.

Then I sat at my desk and put both hands flat on the blotter until they stopped moving.

I had stood next to Bernadette and handed my sister a piece of paper, and I had not looked up.

She had said my name once, like a question.

I could still hear it.

At eight-fifteen Bernadette came in with her navy bag over one arm and a white pastry box in her hand.

"Sabina, dear. I brought you a cheese danish."

"Thank you, Mrs. Gorski."

She set it on my desk, squared the box with one finger, and sat on the edge of the chair across from me.

She always sat in that chair when she was about to be dangerous, because it made her look like a friend.

"You did beautifully Saturday night," she said. "I know that was hard."

"It wasn't hard."

"It was hard, and you did it anyway. That is loyalty."

She smiled at me.

I had watched that smile work on donors, county officials, and the parish council, and on two teenage girls who needed a roof.

"I want you to log every call that comes in this week," she said. "Every one, with the time and the number."

"Including personal calls?"

Keep reading free with an account. Start She Raised Us on Our Dead Parents' Settlement, So We Crashed Her Gala from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.