"Garwood, Julie - For the Roses 05 - Come the Spring" - читать интересную книгу автора (Garwood Julie)

the tellers' windows.

The man in front of her took a step forward, but she stayed where she
was, hoping to put some distance between them so that she wouldn't have
to smell the sour sweat mixed with the pungent odor of fried sausage
emanating from his filthy clothes.

The man to her left in Malcolm's line smiled at her, letting her see
the two missing teeth in the center of his grin. To discourage
conversation, she gave him a quick nod and turned her gaze upward to
the water stains on the ceiling.

It was dank, musty, and horribly hot. She could feel the perspiration
gathering at the nape of her neck and tugged on the collar of her
starched blouse. Giving Franklin a sympathetic glance, she wondered
how any of the employees could work all day in such a dark, gloomy,
stifling tomb. She turned to the right and stared longingly at the
three closed windows. Sunlight streaked through the finger-smudged
glass, casting jagged splotches on the worn floorboards, and fragments
of dust particles hung suspended in the stagnant air. If she had to
wait much longer, she would incite Sherman MacCorkle's anger by
marching over to the windows and throwing all of them open. She gave
up the idea as soon as it entered her mind because the president would
only close them again and give her a stern lecture about bank
security.

Besides, she would lose her place . . .

m . line.

It was finally her turn. Hurrying forward, she stumbled and bumped her
head against the glass of the teller's window. Her shoe had come
off.

She shoved her foot back inside and felt the tongue coil under her
toes. Behind the tellers, dour-faced Sherman MacCorkle's door was
open. He heard the commotion and looked up at her from his desk behind
a glass partition. She gave him a weak smile before turning her
attention to Franklin.

"My shoelace came untied, " she said in an attempt to explain her
clumsiness.

He nodded sympathetically. "Are you all ready to leave? " "Just
about, " she whispered so that Malcolm, the busybody, wouldn't poke his
nose into the conversation. He was already leaning toward Frank, and
she knew he was itching to hear the particulars.

"I'll miss you, " Franklin blurted out.