"Is your boss Margie? Dark hair, silver at the temples? She has a sweatshirt with an apple on it, with a bite taken out and a bandage over the bite mark, and 'forgiven' written across it?" Nikki stuck her hands in her pockets to hide their shaking.
"Yep, you got her in one. What's your problem? You don't need to talk to Margie -- in fact, she's way too busy and too important to deal with everybody who wanders in off the street."
This time, her upper lip definitely rose. Nikki froze outwardly while her heart raced. She wanted to sprint down the hall to find wherever Margie was hiding from her. Yet if Margie was hiding, why would she want to stay in this place at all? Why wasn't Joan here? She had said she was staying a whole month, hadn't she?
No, I will not panic. Appearances are everything. Definitely, don't let this nasty twit know she's won.
"For your information, I don't have a problem." She pulled open her purse and dug for the wad of bills, too thick to put in her wallet. "I wanted to make a donation, but I was warned to make sure everything was put directly in Margie's hands. You never know who you'll meet in this type of neighborhood, pretending to be Christians." She waved the handful of bills in Sue-Anne's face, then turned to leave. Just for a moment, the woman had looked stunned, maybe even a little guilty.
That's not worthy of you, baby girl, Dr. Holwood gently scolded in her memory.Daddy… Nikki swallowed hard, blinked away the hot threat of tears, turned back and tossed maybe a third of the wad down on the counter. A fifty slid off the desk and Sue-Anne dove for it. "I'll be back with the rest when I know I can talk directly with Margie." Then she stomped away, out the door, caught between the need to run and the need to collapse right there and dissolve into tears.