On Monday, Claire wanted to telephone Mr. Dudley and tell him she had taken ill but staying at home with the memory of betrayal fresh and an opinionated mother was a worse option. She scrubbed her face, dressed in her most conservative summer outfit, picked up her satchel, and headed to the trolley stop.
"No time for breakfast today, Mother," she said on her way out the door. She had no appetite and no desire for conversation.
Riding to work, Claire could see towers of storm clouds building in the west. The coming gloom and rain would fit her mood perfectly.
To make the day even worse, she entered the busy newsroom and found Wells talking with Mr. Dudley. Neither looked happy. Claire crept through the field of desks to her own, praying Wells wasn"t here to see her.
Hope was dashed when
