He
will be working with us on the computer." He nodded at Oliver and left.
A man known far and wide for his small talk, Oliver almost said.
"Gifford is my uncle," Suzanne said neutrally. She was the same tidy
chick who had looked him over on his first visit. She wore no make-up
or jewelry. Her face had a healthy glow, framed by her soft
shoulder-length blonde hair. She smiled quickly, a flash of teeth, an
invitation, gone as soon as he took it in. Her mouth settled to a
patient hurt expression. "What is your social security number?"
She filled out a form. "We still do payables by hand," she said.
"So, I should give _you_ the bill?"
"Yes. Just leave it on my desk if I'm not here. I'm usually here." The
smile again, this time rueful and just as quickly gone. She brushed her
hair back with one hand. Oliver noticed lighter streaks in her
hair--from the sun, probably. Her eyes were intelligent, a deep
chocolate color. "I can mail the check or hold it for you."
"Holding it would be simpler."
"Good," she said. "I'll introduce you to Dan." She rose and moved
around him deferentially. My size, he thought. He was used to looking
up at women; it was relaxing to be taller for a change, if only by an
inch.
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