Читать книгу Laura And The Lawman - Shelley Cooper - Страница 8

Antonio Garibaldi scanned the 4,000-square-foot auction floor and felt his stomach plunge like an elevator whose cable had snapped. He had never been so nervous in his life.

It was only to be expected, he told himself. After all, he lived and worked in a world where murder, violence and treachery were commonplace. A cop couldn’t work undercover for any length of time and not carry on an intimate relationship with fear.

In general, fear was a good thing. It kept a man alert. Without it, he’d lose his edge, and probably his life. Truth was, though Antonio had a reputation for being a daredevil—some even said he took unnecessary risks—he was always nervous before starting a new job.

But the way he felt this morning was different. He’d never been this shaky before, and that threw him.

Maybe it was because the man he was replacing, a man who had presumably stumbled by accident across what Antonio was deliberately trying to discover, had disappeared without a trace.

Maybe it was because the recommendation that had allowed him to secure the position of head auctioneer for the Merrill Auction Gallery had claimed an expertise Antonio didn’t possess. Though he’d regularly attended auctions since he was a child, and though he knew more about antique furniture than most dealers, the only auction he’d ever conducted had been during his recent, intensive two-week training session with one of the country’s foremost auctioneers. Though he’d received high marks, that auction had been roughly a quarter the size of the one he’d be in charge of today.

Maybe it was because it had been months since he’d been with a woman, and his hormones were in overdrive.

Or maybe—and this seemed most logical to him—it was because he’d been looking forward to this job too much. A lot was riding on its outcome. Joseph Merrill was a suspected drug kingpin who controlled a large portion of the drug traffic in the tristate area encompassing western Pennsylvania. Many lives would be lost if he wasn’t stopped. Working as an auctioneer for the man would be one of the most dangerous and demanding jobs Antonio had ever undertaken.

But it was more than that. He had a personal stake in the outcome of this case. He was counting on it to revitalize his interest in police work.

Family duty and a sense of adventure were the driving forces that had led Antonio to become a cop. Three generations of his family had proudly worn a uniform and badge. His father was a highly decorated officer. Two of his brothers were also cops. Police work was in his blood.

Given his propensity for danger and excitement, it was only natural that he’d gravitated into undercover work. Antonio was a good undercover cop. He did his job well and always got his man. He’d lived on the edge for years now, receiving commendations and advancing in rank. Until recently he’d loved every minute of it.

A few months ago shortly after his thirty-first birthday, a vague, indecipherable restlessness had filled him, and he began feeling less satisfaction in his work. He found himself consumed by a yearning for something more, although what that something more could be remained tantalizingly out of reach.

It was the repetition, he had decided one sleepless night, while he’d tossed and turned in his bed. For two years he’d been doing the same kind of undercover work. He needed something new. Something daring. Something exciting to spice things up.

When the opportunity to pose as head auctioneer for Joseph Merrill’s auction gallery arose, Antonio had felt a wave of excitement wash over him. This was the change he’d been waiting for. The bonus was, he would be working full-time in a world he loved, a world he had—for too short a time as a youngster—shared with his mother, who had died of cancer when he was eleven.

The sound of the crowd penetrated his thoughts, and Antonio drew a quick, impatient breath. Now was not the time for a trip down memory lane. If he didn’t stay focused on the job at hand, he wouldn’t live long enough to bang the opening gavel, let alone nab Joseph Merrill and his cohorts. He might crave danger, but long ago he had decided there was no job worth getting killed over, and no suspect worth dying for.

His name was Michael Corsi, he reminded himself. He had a brand-new social security card, a driver’s license and several credit cards in his wallet to attest to that fact. For the next several weeks, a month or two at most, Antonio Garibaldi would cease to exist. For his safety, and for the good of the job, he had to submerge himself in the role he was playing and forget about anything else.

A last glance at the crowd had his stomach fluttering once more. Then he saw her, and the butterflies in his middle stilled.

She was beautiful. There was no other way to describe her. The pink silk suit she wore flattered her trim figure without being overly revealing. It also exposed a generous length of long, slender leg to his appreciative gaze. Her shoulder-length brown hair gleamed in the artificial lighting, framing a face that, in repose, looked like a Madonna: small, heart-shaped, ivory-complected and utterly feminine.

He felt a stab of regret that he couldn’t see her eyes because she was half-bent over one of the seated patrons. Then, as if drawn by his regard, she slowly straightened and looked directly at him.

For one endless, unguarded moment, they simply stared at each other. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald green. In their depths, Antonio saw intelligence, vulnerability and a loneliness that pierced his heart. That muscle began thudding unevenly when a new emotion was added. Awareness. Awareness of him as a man. He saw her throat work.

A second later it was as if someone had thrown a switch. Her eyes went blank, and she looked away. Reaching into a jacket pocket, she pulled out a compact and checked her hair and makeup. Snapping the compact shut, she sent him a dazzling smile that held none of the honesty he’d glimpsed a minute earlier. Antonio blinked. What had just happened?

He didn’t care, he told himself, returning her smile with one of his own. For the first time that morning, he relaxed fully. Here, at least, might be the answer to his sexual frustration. If she was agreeable, that was, which he fervently hoped was the case. She was precisely the kind of distraction he needed to help him loosen up, and he made a mental note to meet up with her on his first break.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Joseph Merrill asked softly from behind him.

Antonio nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected arrival of his new boss. He didn’t question how the older man knew exactly who had captured his attention. Joseph Merrill ran a tight ship. He made it a point to keep his eyes and ears open, and to know what his crew was doing at all times. He would have had to be half-blind to have missed how fixedly Antonio had been staring at the woman.

“Exquisite,” he replied, turning his attention to the man at his side. “Who is she?”

“Her name is Ruby O’Toole.” Joseph paused briefly before adding, “She’s my woman.”

The possessive note in Joseph’s voice was unmistakable, as was the warning glance he shot Antonio.

“Ruby is a gifted appraiser of artwork. Part of her job involves helping out on auction day. Today she’ll be one of your bid spotters.”

Antonio had heard of Ruby O’Toole, and her beauty, from his fellow employees. He’d also read about her in the dossier on Joseph Merrill that he’d studied before going undercover. He felt a flicker of disappointment that his planned interlude with her would not come to pass. Getting involved with Joseph Merrill’s lover on anything but a platonic basis would be most unwise. It could also prove fatal. Antonio hadn’t stayed alive this long by being stupid. He wasn’t about to start now.

Philosophically he shrugged his disappointment away. There would be someone else. There always was.

While an intimate relationship with Ruby O’Toole was definitely out, it didn’t mean he couldn’t befriend her, however. There was more than one way for Antonio to get the information he needed. He could get it from Joseph Merrill himself by earning the older man’s trust. Or, if that didn’t work, perhaps he could coax what he needed to learn from the woman with whom his boss shared nightly pillow talk. And if, at the end of the job, he found himself slapping handcuffs on her slender wrists, he would do so without a qualm.

“It’s almost time to start,” Joseph said, surveying the room with a proprietary air. “Nervous?”

Not for the reason you think. “A little.”

“What’s to worry about?” Joseph gave him a broad smile and clapped him on the back. “So it’s your first day on the job. Big deal. It’s not like you haven’t done this a thousand times before. And it’s not like this is the big time. I’m awfully proud of this place, and I do quite well financially. But face it. Sotheby’s it ain’t.”

The rapidly filling room was a hive of activity. Folding chairs, arranged in neat rows, covered the center of the polished hardwood floor. About three-quarters of the chairs had already been claimed, the occupants chatting quietly to one another and fanning themselves with their assigned bid numbers.

No, it wasn’t Sotheby’s. But a good deal of money would exchange hands that day, and it was up to Antonio—correction, Michael—to see that it moved smoothly.

Antonio glanced at his watch. “Would you like me to start?”

“It’s your ball game,” Joseph said. “I have complete faith in you. Throw out the first pitch whenever you’re ready.”

Antonio made a rapid inventory of the items in front of him. Gavel? Check. Sale catalogue? Check. Glass of water? Check. He was prepared. He knew exactly what to do.

Filing away every thought, every impression, every sight and sound, to be carefully detailed in his notes later, he picked up the gavel and banged it solidly against the table. The time for worry, speculation and nervousness was over. It was show time.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced in a strong voice. “Welcome to the Merrill Auction Gallery. Today we have some very special items for your consideration. If everyone is ready, let us begin.”

He turned to the large screen at his right, on which was projected a sterling silver tray. To his left, an assistant held up the actual item.

“Our first item up for bid is this beautiful tray. It was designed in the Chippendale style by Henry James Ashworth of Massachusetts. The U.S. Ambassador to Tunis received it as a gift from a visiting dignitary in 1957.”

Antonio swept his gaze over the crowd. “Who will give me five hundred dollars for this coveted collectible?”

The hands started going up, and he was on his way.

“Laura! Laura, where are you?”

Laura Langley continued walking through the crowd, her gaze focusing on each bidder as a bid was offered. It took all of her self-control not to react to the woman who was calling her name. She was Ruby O’Toole, she reminded herself. The odds of anyone who knew Laura Langley being in this room were not high.

“There you are.” The urgency in the woman’s voice changed to fond exasperation. “I can’t turn my back on you for a minute, you little minx.”

Out of her peripheral vision, Laura saw a woman scoop up a toddler. The tension left her body, and she relaxed.

She was Ruby O’Toole, she reminded herself again. She couldn’t afford to forget that.

The image brought to her mind by the name she had been saddled with was of a zaftig, peroxide blonde, something she most definitely was not. At five-six, with stubbornly straight brown hair, and weighing at most 125 pounds soaking wet, not to mention almost as flat-chested and hipless as her brother, she could hardly be called zaftig.

Though the thought amused her, she didn’t smile. In her role as Ruby O’Toole she did a lot of smiling. But, left to her own devices, Laura Langley rarely smiled.

There were other differences between Laura and Ruby. Considerable differences. Laura had an IQ of 145 and was a member of Mensa. Ruby had an IQ of 110, which was strictly average. The nickname braniac had haunted Laura throughout her school years. Ruby had never been accused of deep thought. Laura cared nothing about fashion. Ruby was obsessed with clothing and accessories. Laura hadn’t looked at a man in a romantic way for four long years. Ruby lived and breathed for male attention. Laura was real. Ruby was purely make-believe.

They did have one thing in common: their knack for appraising art. That knack was the reason why Laura had spent the last part of April and all of May in Pittsburgh, instead of on the streets of New York City, which was her home. It was now the first weekend in June. The way things were going, it looked as if she’d be spending this month here, too.

She had never intended to be a cop. In fact, she’d been teaching art history in a Queens high school when, at the age of twenty-four, fate had stepped in and turned her life upside down.

Four years ago her husband pulled into a gas station with their infant son strapped snugly in his car seat. A drug deal gone sour on the opposite corner led to the exchange of gunfire. When the bullets stopped flying, Laura no longer had a husband or a child. They had become just another statistic, a line item on a police report indicating the NYPD was losing its war on drugs.

After she’d climbed out of her depression, which had taken the better part of a year, she had gotten mad. Raging mad. The way Laura saw it at the time, she had two choices. She could either go insane with anger and grief, or she could do something to make the loss of her husband and son mean more than a senseless waste. For a while it had been iffy which alternative she would select. In the end, though, she had chosen to act.

Thus, an unprepossessing art history teacher had been transformed into first a patrolwoman and later an undercover cop for the New York City Police Department. A highly decorated undercover cop who seemed fearless in the face of danger because she had nothing left to lose.

Unfortunately, the Laura who had arrived in Pittsburgh six weeks earlier was not the same woman who had excelled at the Police Academy. For one thing, she was no longer quite so fearless. The rage that had consumed her for so long now was abating, as was the single-mindedness with which she had allowed her job to swallow up every aspect of her life for three long years. While she still keenly mourned the loss of her husband and son, the memory of that loss no longer filled her every waking moment.

In its place Laura felt an unexpected restlessness. And a powerful yearning she couldn’t define. Chalking the emotions up to too much work and too little rest, she had determined to take a much-postponed and much-needed vacation once the Merrill case was brought to a close.

If it was ever brought to a close.

As anxious as she was to take that vacation, now was not the time to think of all that. A glance at her watch told her it was time, however, for her break.

Signaling to her replacement, she grabbed a cup of coffee from the concession stand and propped her feet on an empty chair in a quiet corner of the room. Sighing, she took a sip of coffee and tried to ignore the way her breasts pinched in her push-up bra and her feet pinched in three-inch stiletto heels.

The coffee went a long way toward reestablishing her equilibrium. It was shattered a moment later when she saw Joseph headed purposely toward her. Her break was only ten minutes long, and she’d hoped to be able to use that time to rest her aching feet in peace. She should have known better. When they were out in public, Joseph rarely left her side.

Trailing behind him, predictably, was Matthew Rogers, his right-hand man and bodyguard. Matthew’s massive shoulders strained against his suit jacket. His hands were as big as hams. He looked as if he could bench-press three hundred pounds easily, without breaking a sweat. He also looked like the thug that rumor whispered him to be.

“Well, what do you think?” Joseph asked.

He moved to stand directly behind her, while Matthew took up vigil a few feet away, his watchful gaze scouring the crowd. Leaning down, Joseph laced his arms loosely around her shoulders.

Trying not to flinch at the contact, Laura took another sip of coffee. “About what?”

He nodded toward the podium. “My newest employee.”

She followed Joseph’s gaze to the man who was currently in the middle of a bidding war, two women equally determined to be the proud possessor of a pair of diamond earrings. Already the bidding had surpassed the earrings’ assessed value, and was climbing steadily higher, with no end reasonably in sight. Laura couldn’t help wondering what the women wanted more: ownership of the earrings, or Michael Corsi’s undivided attention.

He was worth vying for. It had been a long time since she’d seen any man with such striking good looks off the movie screen. But with his olive coloring, dark brown hair, roman nose, determined chin and chocolate-brown eyes that also held a good measure of intelligence, Michael Corsi could give any number of male heartthrobs a run for their money in the fluttering-of-the-female-heart department.

In addition to his good looks, he possessed a charisma that had the crowd eating out of his hand. He was the perfect auctioneer. What galled Laura was that, against her will, she found herself wanting to eat out of his hand, too.

Dismay filled her, and her heart thudded unevenly. Before her face could betray her thoughts, she returned her gaze to the cup in her hands.

It wasn’t just that everyone in the room believed she belonged to Joseph, although that was a major consideration. What was even more important was that she knew who Michael Corsi was and who he wasn’t. And who he wasn’t was one of the good guys.

To be attracted to any man seemed a betrayal of both her husband and her son. To be attracted to Michael Corsi was ten times worse. He wasn’t fit to shine the shoes Jacob had worn, which still lined the floor of her closet in her home back in Queens, let alone to try and take his place.

When she’d learned Michael Corsi would be working for Joseph, she’d had her contact officer investigate him. The information he’d relayed back to her had been extremely interesting. Michael Corsi had done time for dealing drugs. Was his acting as an auctioneer just a front for his real job, which was helping Joseph in his drug operations?

She didn’t know. Not yet, anyway. But she intended to find out.

This time, when her gaze traveled to him, she felt nothing but disdain. The past six weeks spent trying to win Joseph Merrill’s confidence had been more stressful than she’d expected. She was exhausted. As a result she’d misread simple appreciation for a handsome, albeit amoral, man as attraction. It was nothing, she told herself. Just another lapse proving how badly she needed a vacation.

Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget the moment she had first gazed into his eyes. For a slice out of time she’d forgotten where she was. She’d even forgotten who she was.

It wasn’t Ruby who had returned his piercing regard, but Laura. Laura, who had let her guard down and allowed the emotions of the past four years to shine in her eyes plainly for him to see. For surely he would understand.

When she’d realized her folly, she’d done what she could to repair the damage. She’d banished Laura and had Ruby smile her empty, flirtatious smile at him. She hoped he didn’t puzzle too long over the seeming contradiction.

“Ruby?” Joseph said, sounding far away. “Ruby, did you hear me? I asked you a question.”

“What?” She blinked and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little preoccupied.”

“I was wondering what you thought of my newest employee.” There was a trace of impatience in his voice, and Laura knew she’d made a mistake by letting Michael Corsi unnerve her to the point where she’d forgotten the role she was playing.

She pretended to assess Joseph’s new auctioneer the way she would a painting she was trying to value. “The crowd is involved, and he’s moving things along at a good pace,” she said carefully. “He’s also getting top dollar for almost every item. Overall, I’d say he’s doing an excellent job. I think he’ll be a good addition to the team.”

“He will, won’t he?” Joseph murmured.

“You seem surprised,” Laura said.

“Just intrigued.”

“About what?”

It was Joseph’s turn to seem distracted as he dropped his arms from around her shoulders and straightened to his full height.

“About whether Michael Corsi just might turn out to be far more valuable to me than he ever anticipated,” he murmured.

Laura wondered what he meant, but didn’t dare ask. Only six weeks had passed since she’d finagled their meeting and talked her way into the job as his art appraiser. She didn’t want to appear overly interested in his personal business, didn’t want to arouse his suspicions that she was anything more than a woman who did her job well. A woman who preened under male attention and who always kowtowed to a man’s acknowledged superiority. Joseph’s acknowledged superiority.

If the rumors were true, and she believed they were, Joseph was one of the biggest drug distributors in the eastern United States. He hadn’t acquired that status by trusting blindly. As Laura kept reminding her contact officer when she reported in to him, this was nothing like making a buy from a street dealer. If the department was serious about taking out the big guys, then they had to be willing to put in the necessary time.

She would have to earn Joseph’s trust. She’d made great strides in that arena, but he had yet to invite her into his inner circle. Laura had every expectation that the invitation was looming ever closer on the horizon. She just had to bide her time and play her part.

In the meantime every penny Joseph paid her, minus applicable expenses, was going straight into police coffers. They weren’t losing money on this deal. When it all ended, hopefully many lives would also be saved.

“When I asked what you thought of him,” Joseph said, “I wasn’t talking about his performance on the podium. I want to know what you think of Michael Corsi as a man. Do you find him attractive?”

Laura stilled. At the time she’d started the job, she’d been prepared to have Joseph direct his attentions her way. In fact, that had been essential if she was to earn his confidence. What she hadn’t been prepared for was the revelation that he was gay, that he wanted her to pose as his lover, and that he was willing to pay her a generous stipend, in addition to her regular salary, for her to do so.

His standing in the community was important to him, he’d told her. He didn’t want it jeopardized, and he was apprehensive about what might happen if the truth of his sexual orientation were to become common knowledge. If she took the job, he wouldn’t expect her to live a celibate lifestyle. She was free to take a lover, so long as she exercised extreme discretion.

Since his request had meant she would be working even more closely with him, and that he was growing to trust her, Laura had readily agreed. Was he toying with her now? she wondered. Testing her loyalty? At times Joseph Merrill was an extremely difficult man to read.

“Is he gay?” she asked.

Joseph leaned over her again. “Checking to see if I’m staking a claim?” he whispered into her ear.

“You are my boss,” she replied lightly. “I wouldn’t want to overstep my bounds. You pay me too well.”

Joseph chuckled his appreciation. “I do like a woman who knows on which side her bread is buttered. Alas, he’s not gay, more’s the pity. So, what do you think?”

Laura gazed at Michael Corsi and felt a flutter in her midsection. There it was again, that unwelcome awareness of him as a man. A starburst of anticipation radiated outward, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. She fought it back, searching instead to retrieve her earlier feelings of disdain.

“He is a handsome devil, isn’t he?” she said, knowing Joseph would expect Ruby to make such a remark.

“Adorable,” Joseph replied. “Too bad they buried your heart with your fiancé.”

Rule number one of undercover work was to come up with a good cover story. Before she had known he was gay, she’d wanted Joseph to be attracted to her. But she hadn’t wanted their relationship to become intimate. To prevent that eventuality, while hopefully keeping his interest in her heightened, she had concocted the story that Ruby O’Toole’s fiancé had been killed in a car accident on the eve of their wedding. The loss was still too fresh, too painful for her to enter into a new relationship.

“Yeah,” she agreed, sighing theatrically. “Too bad.”

“Yet you still dress and act provocatively around men. You still flirt outrageously with them.” There was a speculative gleam in Joseph’s eyes that she didn’t like and needed to put to rest. Immediately.

“That’s because all the men around here know I belong to you. Flirting with them is safe.”

Reaching up a hand, she patted her hair. “Besides,” she cooed, “a girl needs to know she hasn’t lost her technique. I may not allow men to touch right now, but I definitely want them to look. I won’t be in mourning forever, you know.”

Joseph chuckled. “Spoken like a woman.”

“I am a woman, Joseph. I’ve never made that a secret.”

It was an unfortunate choice of words. She realized her mistake when Joseph said, “I wonder what secrets you are hiding from me.”

Hours of practice in front of a mirror had perfected the guileless look she aimed his way.

“Secrets?” she asked, an air of honest bewilderment in her voice, although her heart was thudding heavily. “I have no secrets.”

“Everyone has secrets, my dear. Everyone has something to hide. No one is exactly as he presents himself to others. I can’t help wondering what it is you’re keeping from me.”

Her laughter was light and airy, and pure Ruby. “I’ll never tell,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Oh, I will, my dear, I will,” Joseph assured her, and she felt a chill.

His words reminded her of exactly how dangerous he was. The man Michael Corsi had replaced as head auctioneer had disappeared without a trace. He wasn’t the first person to suddenly leave Joseph’s employ, nor was he the first to drop out of sight, never to be seen again. Of course, without any bodies, and without any evidence whatsoever that Joseph had played a role in those disappearances, no charges could be brought.

The speculation in Joseph’s eyes faded and he said, “Have I told you lately how glad I am that I hired you? If not for you, I would have auctioned an extremely valuable painting for what would have amounted to peanuts.”

Laura had barely believed it herself when she’d discovered the old master mixed in with a pile of worthless canvases. It was a once-in-a-lifetime find. She’d gone immediately to Joseph with the news, hoping to raise her value in his eyes. She knew he would think that Ruby easily could have arranged for someone to buy it at a pittance, then turned around and sold it for its true value, pocketing the profit for herself. That she hadn’t went a long way toward proving her loyalty to him. It was after that discovery that Joseph had asked her to pose as his love interest.

Over the past six weeks she had learned a lot about Joseph Merrill. One of the most important things she’d uncovered was that he wasn’t exactly a wizard where the items he auctioned off were concerned. He could barely tell an oak chair from a pine one, let alone discern the difference between a valuable master and a starving-artist watercolor. His success as an auctioneer was due solely to the talents of the people he hired to work for him. Joseph hired only the best. Which indicated to Laura, at least, that his business was a front for something else.

“You may have expressed your gratitude a time or two,” she replied in a breathy voice, “but don’t let that stop you. A lady never gets tired of having her ego stroked.”

Though he had a smile on his face, the eyes Joseph turned her way were cold. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. I have a favor to ask, my dear. A favor that you are uniquely qualified to grant. Of course, it goes without saying that I’m counting on your discretion. I don’t want any tongues wagging, nor do I want you to feel you have to violate your self-imposed vow of celibacy. But it would be nice if you somehow got past our Mr. Corsi’s barriers and encouraged his confidence. I would be extremely interested in finding out if he has any secrets I should know.”

The words were an order, not a request. So much for his concern about Ruby’s love life. Laura should have known better than to believe that Joseph had an altruistic bone in his body, or that he was bothered by Ruby’s monastic lifestyle. Everything he did, he did with a what-was-in-it-for-him attitude. She’d be foolish to forget that.

“My break is almost over,” she said, swinging her feet off the chair. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to the ladies’ room and put my face back together.”

“Not at all. I hope you’ll take into consideration what we were just speaking about.”

“Of course.”

Flashing him a brilliant smile, Laura walked away. Once safely in the ladies’ room, she sank back against a stall door and groaned out loud. There was nothing for it. She would have to flirt with Michael Corsi. She would have to find out something about the man to report to Joseph. If she didn’t, he would grow suspicious.

Her stomach clenched as a more disturbing thought occurred to her. What if Michael took her flirtation seriously? What if he wanted more than flirting from her? What would she do then? Joseph would surely encourage any such liaison.

She was Joseph Merrill’s lover, she reminded herself. At least, that’s what everyone believed. Michael Corsi, if he valued his job, would be careful about crossing that line. The thought reassured her.

She had to look at this as an opportunity. An opportunity to win Joseph’s confidence. Flirting with Michael Corsi—discreetly, of course—meant she was one step closer to ending the case, one step closer to going home. One step closer to her vacation.

And if, when that time came, she found herself slapping handcuffs on Joseph’s newest employee, she would do so gladly.