- 12 -
I admit it was three minutes past eight when I limped into the office. I had borrowed Uncle Phil’s cane, which Dad had dug out for me. It made an impressive clumping noise as I entered. Rose looked at the wall clock, then her wristwatch, then me. She pulled her Nasty List drawer open, glanced at my cane and slid the drawer back shut.
“Glad you could make it,” Rose said. “Perhaps you’ll have to build in a little extra time to get to work until you can get around better.”
Rose just oozed with sympathy. But I expected nothing less than her priority boiling down to efficiency. The truth of the matter was that with Rusty now in residence at Wildwood, I had to swing out there to feed and water him before coming into the office, and also make sure he had not again escaped. In spite of a
