”“Thanks, Delores,” Cal said and began to make his way to his inner office.“You don’t need to thank me,” she said. “Typing’s my job.�...Cal stopped in the door way of his private office and turned around.“I didn’t mean ‘thanks for the typing’,” he said. “I meant thanks for the rest of it.”It was five minutes before four in the afternoon. Cal picked up his phone and called George Lambe’s office.“Let George know that I’ll be fifteen minutes late for our meeting today, please,” he told the secretary. His devotion to his late wife seemed so solid, but how long should any man grieve after losing his wife? How long indeed would he? He was clearly a man in his prime, fit, handsome, confident and charming. Was two years sufficient when compared to the premature curtailment of a lifetime’s companionship? Now this woman seemed to be cut from exactly the same cloth as his late wife. Beautiful, tall, slim, graceful and dressed exceedingly well. Just the outfit she had on now, which she apparent. More

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