I pushed open a door marked FINANCIAL ADMINISTRATION. Just as I’d remembered it, except that the file cabinets had multiplied so they not only lined the walls but served as low dividers between the desks. But the counter was there, and they’d even put out a couple of folding chairs so people could sit down to fill out forms. Now all I had to do was—

“Mommy!” Timmy shouted, and pulled himself out of my grip to duck under the tables and race toward the back of the room.

My heart gave a brief lurch of relief—she was all right! And then I realized that he hadn’t seen Karen. He was heading for her desk.

“Oh, my God, it’s Timmy!” someone exclaimed. I glanced over to see that the speaker was seated at one of the closer desks. Had been seated at the desk. Now she had jumped up and was frantically trying to clear everything off the top of her desk into her already crowded drawers.

It was Sandie, the tchotchke lady. Karen and I had laughed and shaken our heads over her during some of our lunches. Every square inch of Sandie’s desk that wasn’t covered with papers was filled with tiny breakable ornaments: bud vases, glass or china figurines of dogs and cats and fawns, tiny china frames with babies’ pictures in them, snow globes, porcelain thimbles, miniature teapots and who knew what else. It was a veritable museum of things that should not be left within a mile of Timmy’s busy little hands. I’d have thought the top of the desk was safe, but Sandie probably had more experience with Timmy than I did.

Luckily, Timmy ignored all the temptations on Sandie’s desk and headed straight for Karen’s. I was expecting a temper tantrum when he didn’t find her there, but instead, he climbed up into her desk chair and sat there, clutching Kiki and his sippy cup, twirling the chair slightly, and looking expectant.

“Karen promised she wouldn’t bring him in here again,” Sandie fussed, as she continued clearing things off her desk. I knew how she felt; I’d spent most of the previous evening doing the same deck clearing at home. “She knows how he disrupts our operations.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Karen didn’t tell me that—I guess she was in a hurry when she dropped him off. Is she here?”

“No,” Sandie said. She paused in her tidying and looked up. “And let me tell you, Nadine is pretty burned up about that. If you know where she—”

“Sandra?” Sandie flinched slightly and returned to her tidying, so I deduced that the speaker meant her. I turned to see a tall, elegant woman in a gray suit standing in a doorway that led to an inner office. Nadine, I presumed.

“Hi,” I said, in a deliberately light and cheerful tone. “I’m looking for Karen.”

“Karen’s not here,” Nadine said. “And I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we cannot permit a toddler to stay in the office. Too disruptive.”