“Next!”
Brad’s head jerked at the sound. A man at the counter was motioning them to his window. Silver-haired and grandfatherly, wearing a sweater and a tie, he looked as if he had just stepped out of an old Norman Rockwell poster. The poor husband blanched.
“Oh, sir?” said Alyssa easily. “That girl over there has always just been so helpful. I wonder,” she continued in her sweetest tones, “if my husband and I might see her?”
The silver-haired clerk smiled. “If you like,” he shrugged. He nodded then to the person behind them.
They had to wait another few minutes, and then the young woman Alyssa had indicated signaled them to come over. She was young and blonde, with a beautiful ponytail gleaming like burnished bronze against the padded shoulders of her ivory colored blouse. Fresh-faced
