“That would be lovely,” I replied finally, thinking it was easier just to give in and get it out of the way.

“Excellent. I know Marion will enjoy getting to know you. Though you have to watch out for her—she’s a bit of a matchmaker where Tom is concerned.” Wendell gave me a smile and a friendly wink and then returned to his office, pulling the door shut behind him. I felt an odd flush of some emotion I couldn’t identify. A matchmaker for Tom? What did he mean by that? Tom was my boss. Besides, technically, we’d never even met!

“Would you like to use my phone?” Gwen asked, looking distracted. I noticed she had an appointment book open on the desk in front of her, and that it was marked all over with notations.

“Actually, it might take a little while,” I said. “Is there an empty office around here with a desk I could use?”

“Let’s see. There’s nothing very private at Feed the Need. Let’s take a look over here.”

She led me through the opposite door into the Smythe Incorporated side of the building. It was similar to Feed the Need in size and decor and just as busy. Gwen led me around, asking two people before finding a vacant office.

“This is our VP of Production’s office,” she said, turning on the light. “According to his assistant, he should be gone for a while.”

“This is fine,” I said. The room was large and sunny with a full but organized desktop. Gwen showed me how to use the phone to dial out and then excused herself, pulling the door shut behind her.

Three

As I dialed the number of my home office I glanced at my watch and realized I was probably going to catch my coworker and dear friend Harriet in the middle of her morning goodie break. Our office was located in the embassy section of Washington, DC, two doors down from a French bakery where they made heavenly pastries each morning. Harriet said sometimes the smell of the baking breads was so strong, it was like the old cartoons where a puff of smoke would float into the room and take on the form of a human hand, beckoning the smeller like a temptress. Never one for resisting good food, Harriet usually followed the smell all the way back to the bakery, where she would buy something delicious before returning to the office and settling down with her bounty.

“J.O.S.H.U.A. Foundation,” I finally heard in the clipped, nasal voice of our receptionist, Margaret. “How may I direct your call?”

“Hey, Margaret, it’s Callie. Is Harriet in?”

“Just coming through the door,” she said. “Hold on.”

I waited, picturing Harriet heading to her desk to take my call, her hands loaded with treats. Though I usually worked either from my home or out on assignment, I tried to make a point of going into the office as often as I could. It was a two-hour commute each way, but it kept me involved with the regular goings-on there that a less frequent visitor might miss.