Without A Trace

Sunshine glinted off the gold lettering on the window. Michael paused on the sidewalk for a moment before entering the office. Roots. Good choice of name, short and catchy. He could only hope Sarah Montague lived up to her reputation as a genealogist and proved to be as clever. The interior of the office was refreshingly cool on such a warm afternoon. He closed the door behind him, stretching his neck against the stiff band of his shirt collar. He stood on a half-moon of shale-colored tile that led to pale gray carpet. To his right and left, brass-framed end tables flanked identical black sofas. His gaze riveted on the detested black color a moment, then circled and came to rest on the young woman in the reception area. She sat hunched forward at her desk, peering in puzzlement at a computer screen. Michael's high hopes sank. This girl didn't match the self-assured voice he had heard on the phone this morning. He stepped onto the rug. "Excuse me, I'm Michael De Lorio." The girl lifted her dark head and fastened a vague blue gaze on him. "Oh...hello! I'm Molly Harmon, the secretary." "I'm here to see Sarah Montague?" "Just a sec. She's in back. I lost a file and she's been looking and looking..." She rose from the desk, took three wobbly steps on white stiletto heels and then paused to ask, "What did you say your name was again?" "De Lorio, Michael De Lorio. I have an appointment." She walked to a rear doorway, repeating his name under her breath. "Sarah? A Mr. De Lorio is here to see you." Michael watched the doorway as Molly teetered back to her desk. The dark-haired woman who emerged a moment later reassured him. She was tall, slender and professional looking in a lightweight white skirt and blazer-style jacket. Her rose-colored silk blouse added just the right touch of feminine softness. As she walked toward him, he noted that her burgundy pumps had practical two-inch heels. From the way she moved, though, he imagined she would glide just as smoothly in Molly's spikes.Yes, she definitely had nice movement...nice everything. "Hello, Mr. De Lorio. I've been expecting you." Lifting intelligent, sherry-brown eyes to his, she gave him a firm handshake, then led him into an office to his left. Nodding toward a leather-cushioned chair in front of her desk, she said, "Please have a seat." As Michael lowered himself into the chair, he flexed his shoulders, trying to relax. He had been dreading this appointment all morning. While she opened a side drawer and sifted through a pile of papers, he studied a picture that sat catty-corner on her desk: a close-up of her holding a gray striped cat. She wore an overlarge sweatshirt in the photo, her sable hair tousled in soft curls across her cheek.Beautiful.Not in the classic sense, more sultry and mysterious with those irregular features and dark eyes, but lovely just the same.Anderson, Catherine is the author of 'Without A Trace', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373470860 and ISBN 037347086X.