When she entered the lobby, a blast of air-conditioning greeted her and she almost groaned with pleasure. Atlanta was into the second week of a record-breaking July heat wave and the Dodge's air-conditioning consisted of rolled-down windows.

After scribbling her name on the security roster, she rushed into an open elevator car and pushed the button for the thirtieth floor. No way was she going to be late. No way. The elevator zoomed upward, then opened with a quiet ping. Melanie stepped out with a sigh of relief.

Whew! Made it! She placed the box on the carpet outside the outer glass doors leading to Slickert, Cashman, and Rich, Attorneys at Law. Great name for a bunch of lawyers. Kinda like the way her gynecologist's name was Dr. Seamen. She raised her hand to ring the bell and froze. Leaning forward, she stared through the glass with disbelief. Her stomach fell to her toes.

The digital clock on the reception desk glowed in the deserted waiting area. It read 7:40.

She looked at her watch. It still read 7:10.

"Damn, damn, damn!" She shook her wrist and held the timepiece up to her ear. Nothing. Zip. Nada. She slapped the watch's face. No signs of life. Like the Wicked Witch of the East, her watch was not merely dead, it was really most sincerely dead.

But how could that be? She'd just bought the blasted thing last month-a twenty-eighth birthday present to herself. The Kmart special had just cost her two hundred dollars in food. Two hundred dollars she couldn't afford to lose.

She glanced down at the box at her feet and suppressed an urge to kick it. Fifteen gourmet dinners, all the condiments, plates, cutlery-everything for a Pampered Palate meal. And if she announced herself to Slickert, Cashman, and Rich, Attorneys at Law, the meal would be on her.