"No, we walked over," Joanna said. For an address the women had given Seven Hawthorne Place, part of the Charles River Park apartment complex behind the hospital.
A few minutes later the women were back out in the May sunshine. Deborah was euphoric. "We did it!" she declared as they walked quickly away from the bank. "I had my doubts there for a minute, but apparently we've got good names and Social Security numbers."
"They're good for now," Joanna said. "But that's going to change sometime in the near future. Let's head back to the apartment, put in a call to the Wingate Clinic, and get the next step out of the way."
"What about a bit of lunch?" Deborah said. "I'm starved. That coffee and pastry we had a little after seven this morning is long gone."
"I could use some food myself," Joanna agreed. "But let's make it quick."
"WINGATE CLINIC," A PLEASANT VOICE SAID CHEERFULLY. It came from the speaker phone in Joanna and Deborah's apartment. The telephone itself was on the couch between the women who were sitting on either side of it. It was two-thirty-five and sun was just beginning to spill onto the hardwood floor through the front windows.
"I'm interested in employment in your institution,' Joanna said. "To whom should I speak?" The women had flipped a coin to see who should make the call. Joanna had won.
"That would be with Helen Masterson, Director of Personnel,' the operator said. "Shall I connect you?"
"Please," Joanna said.
The same elevator music they'd heard the day before drifted out of the phone, but it didn't last long. A strong, deep, woman's voice preempted the Muzak. Both women jumped: "Helen Masterson here. I understand you are looking for employment."
"Yes, both myself and my roommate,' Joanna said as soon as she'd recovered.
"What kind of experience do you and your roommate have?" Helen asked.
"I've had extensive word-processing experience," Joanna said.
"As a student or in a work environment?"
"Both," Joanna said. She'd worked summers during undergraduate school in a Houston law firm with whom her father did a great deal of business.
"Are you college graduates?"
"Yes, indeed," Joanna said. "I've a degree in economics. My roommate, Georgina Marks, was a biology major." Joanna looked over at Deborah who gave her a thumbs-up sign.
"Has she had any laboratory experience?"
Deborah nodded emphatically.
"Yes, she has," Joanna said.
"I must admit you both sound perfect for the Wingate Clinic," Helen said. "How did you hear about us?"
"Excuse me?" Joanna said while making a grimace of consternation for Deborah's benefit. It was a question she'd not anticipated. Deborah fumbled for the pad and pencil on the floor. While Helen repeated the question, she quickly wrote: "A friend saw an ad."
"Word of mouth," Joanna said. "A friend of ours saw an ad."
"Was that a newspaper ad or a radio ad?"
Joanna hesitated. Deborah shrugged.
"I'm not sure," Joanna said.
"Well, it doesn't matter except to know which is more effective," Helen said. "Do you live here in Bookford?"
"We currently live in Boston," Joanna said.
"So you are willing to reverse commute."
"That's the plan, at least for the time being. We'd be driving out together."
"Why do you want to work out here in Bookford?" Helen asked.
"We need to find work quickly," Joanna said. "We heard your organization was in need of help. We just got back from a rather long stay in Europe, and frankly we need the money."
"It sounds like we can help each other," Helen said. "I can either fax you or E-mail you employment questionnaires which you can fill out and send back the same way you got it. Which way would you prefer?"
"E-mail is fine," Joanna said. She gave Helen her E-mail address which conveniently had no association with her name.
"I'll E-mail forthwith," Helen said. "Meanwhile I think we should go ahead and schedule interviews. What would be a convenient date for you and your roommate? Just about any day this week or next week is available."
"The sooner the better," Joanna said. Deborah nodded. "In fact, tomorrow would be fine for us if it works for you."
"By all means," Helen said. "I applaud your eagerness. Would ten o'clock be okay?"
"Ten o'clock will be fine," Joanna said.
"Will you need directions?" Helen asked.
"I don't think that will be necessary," Joanna said. "We're quite resourceful."
"We look forward to seeing you tomorrow," Helen said before disconnecting.
Joanna hung up the phone.
"Very smooth!" Deborah commented. "I think we're in."
"So do I," Joanna said. She unplugged the phone and headed over to the computer. "Let's log on so we can get the E-mail as soon as it comes in."
True to her word, Helen had sent the E-mail within minutes of hanging up the phone, and it popped up on the women's computer screen just moments after they logged on. Fifteen minutes later, Joanna and Deborah had filled in their respective employment forms directly on the screen and E-mailed them back to the Wingate Clinic.
"This almost seems too easy," Deborah commented as she shut down the computer.
"Don't jinx us," Joanna said. "You can call me superstitious, but I'm not going to say anything like that until after I get into the Wingate server room. There's too much that can still go wrong."
"You mean like one or both Social Security numbers suddenly going bad."
"Either that or someone like Dr. Donaldson recognizing us tomorrow morning."
"Let me guess," Deborah said. "You're back to thinking about the disguise idea."
"I've never stopped thinking about it," Joanna said. "And we have the rest of the afternoon. So let's do it. We can head over to the Galleria Mall in Cambridge and, without spending much, get ourselves some new outfits."
"I'm game," Deborah said. "The trendy tart… that's going to be me. Maybe I can find something with an exposed midriff that I can combine with a Miracle Bra. Then on the way back we can stop at CVS and get some hair coloring and extra makeup. Do you remember the receptionist when we were out at the Wingate doing the egg donations?"
"It would be hard to forget her," Joanna said.
"I'm going to give her a run for her money," Deborah declared.
"I don't think we should go overboard on this," Joanna said skeptically. "We don't want to draw attention to ourselves unnecessarily."
"Speak for yourself," Deborah said. "You don't want us recognized, and I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen, especially with me."
"But we want them to give us jobs," Joanna said.
"No need to worry," Deborah said. "I'm not going to go that far."
EIGHT
SPENCER WINGATE TOSSED aside the magazine he'd been reading and looked out at the countryside spread out below. Spring had finally arrived with its typical New England sluggishness. The patchwork of fields and meadows had assumed a deep, verdant green color although isolated patches of ice and snow were still visible in the deeper gullies and ravines. Many of the hardwoods were still without leaves, but they were covered with delicate yellow-green buds ready to burst, which gave the undulating hills a softness, as if they were upholstered in diaphanous green fleece.
"Hew much longer before we touch down at Hanscom Field?" Spencer called out, loud enough for the pilot to hear over the whine of the jet engines. Spencer was in a Lear 45; he owned a quarter share, although not of the plane he was currently in. Two years previously he'd signed on with one of the fractional-ownership companies, and the service had served his needs admirably.