It was all too rare finding a man with a “sweet” side; Bree hadn’t listened to Gram. However, she’d done nothing but listen to Richard since this business of not being able to talk. Good Lord, the man was happy extolling the merits of computer systems for hours at a stretch. Rationally, of course, Bree should have found the subject fascinating. She herself was a systems analyst, having chosen that field because it offered women good opportunities for promotion as well as more than adequate salaries.

“And you’re bored silly,” Gram used to say. “Don’t you remember that as a little girl, the only thing you ever wanted to do was make perfumes when you grew up? What happened to the dreams, Bree?”

Dreams didn’t pay the rent. Bree’s salary from Marie paid the rent. Bree’s eyes focused on the stack of computer printouts on her dresser, provided free of charge by her boss on the premise that work would get Bree’s mind off her “little problem.” Marie was incredibly talented at manipulating people, but she smiled and complimented so often that being used by her seemed like a privilege. “Baggage,” Gram had labeled Marie. “A clever bit of baggage-take off the paint and she’s all tough leather.” Bree hadn’t listened to her; Gram couldn’t possibly understand what it took for a woman to survive in today’s business world. If the little exploitations were endless, Marie still paid well and had given her every opportunity to advance. Bree had never been too unhappy.

She was just unhappy now. During the past few weeks, everything seemed to bother her, and trailing her like a shadow had been a ridiculous, irresponsible, unforgivable urge just to pitch it all.