Iris tried the other drawers. Some were empty. The rest were locked. “I left my lock picks in my handbag,” she said with chagrin.

“You carry those with you all the time?” asked Gwen. “What on earth for?”

“For occasions like these,” said Iris, feeling about the underside of the center drawer. “No, no secret compartment here. Maybe in the bottom drawers.”

“Listen!” urged Gwen, sliding one open, then closing it. “So silent, so smooth. The craftsmanship—my God, I could sit behind this all day and spend my idle minutes opening the drawers.”

“Easy for you with your height,” said Iris. “I would require a chair. And so would you, if only for appearances’ sake.”

“There aren’t any,” observed Gwen, looking around.

“So we’d need two for the desks and two for our clients.”

“Only one, surely,” said Gwen. “We’re matching up individuals.”

“Two, because I’ve noticed that having one centered between us smacks of an official interrogation after a while. And because sometimes they come with a friend or a relative for moral support, and we’ve made them wait in the hallway, or I end up sitting on my unstable desk, which is like roller skating during an earthquake.”

“And your legs distract the gentlemen,” added Gwen.

“Precisely,” said Iris. “So, four chairs, and a new filing cabinet. Desk lamps. Another fan. A second telephone line, with some form of intercom system connecting it with the first. We’d need to paint.”

“A rug would be nice,” said Gwen. “I wonder if there are any I could filch from the attic at home. Yes, I’m beginning to see that we’d have to come up with the funding for all of that, not to mention the security deposit on the additional office. And you’ve forgotten the key element.”

“A secretary,” said Iris. “Secretary slash receptionist slash clerk. Our very first employee. We may become employers, Gwen. How very capitalist of us! Do we have enough to make this expansion?”

“We do not,” said Gwen. “We may have it in a few months if things keep going at the present rate. Six more wedding bounties would give us enough. If only…”

She paused and sighed.

“What?” asked Iris.

“If only I could pry control of my estate away from that irritating guardian of mine,” said Gwen. “I could invest in our business.”

“Have you approached him about it?” asked Iris.

“I still need the final approval from Dr. Milford declaring me capable of managing my life without a straitjacket.”

“How’s that working out?”

“He wants me to get through two more months of therapy to make certain that I’m stable.”

“Then don’t sit on my desk,” advised Iris. “Shall we get back to work?”

“I suppose,” Gwen said. “Iris, is it wrong that I am experiencing lustful feelings towards this desk?”

“I am not one to judge,” said Iris. “I’ve had a few interesting encounters involving desks. Not with the actual desks themselves, mind you, but they make my short list of favourite pieces of furniture.”