Down the Rabbit Hole

She pushed her chair back and started to stand when he asked, “Why didn’t you come to me first?”


Elise didn’t normally go out of her way to live her life dangerously, but she was already in for a penny. “I knew you’d say no.”

The piercing glare she turned and walked away from added a frightened, insecure feeling to the embarrassment and anger that was presently overpowering her inclination to be sympathetic ever again. No good deed went unpunished, right? Who were the Sheldons to her? Would they send her a Christmas card? If she lost her job for helping them she wouldn’t be able to pay her own taxes—and who’d take mercy on her? Cooper Winston? People suck.

Elise and the Tin Woodman watched the events of that afternoon take on a faster pace.

“And see there?” she said, pointing. “Every purse I looked at while I waited for Molly was as ugly as my mood. Not to mention the disrespect I felt when she couldn’t even manage to get there on time.” She hesitated and looked up at her companion. “Normally, it doesn’t matter. She’s a late person. I’m an early person. Most people are one or the other, which is why it’s such a surprise when someone shows up at the exact right time. Who does that?”

A tin finger directed her attention back to the show of that wretched afternoon. She and Molly were just approaching the exit.

“Stop. Please. Can we stop it there? Look at my face. My expression is rotten and foul before we even see Liz. She could have been Mother Teresa and I wouldn’t have had a single good thought in my head for her. Liz didn’t stand a chance . . . no matter what she was trying to sell.”

The fog closed in around the picture and it vanished. It was a long minute before she could look into the Tin Woodman’s . . . well, Martin’s golden-green hazel eyes.

“I get it. It’s not them, it’s me.”

“Only sometimes,” he said kindly. “Cooper Winston should be flying monkey bait for calling you out in public. And the regulations are soulless. Still, no matter how much you couldn’t regret it, in the end you knew you’d broken a rule.”

“And none of it had anything to do with Molly or Liz or that poor little boy.”

“No. But it still doesn’t mean you have no brain and no heart.” He grinned at her. “The trick is to be more aware of what you’re doing, as well as why you’re doing it. Emotions can create problems that don’t need to exist. Express them to the right person at the right time and then let go of them. That’s my advice,” he said, with a judicious nod.

They looked at each other, and then the muffled rumbling returned—a distant racket, but getting closer; echoing, vibrating like a train on a track heading their way . . .





CHAPTER FIVE




“Don’t tell me. That’s the sound of the train I missed to a life less ordinary.” Elise frowned at the flat affect of her voice. “Not that I’d know what to do once I got there.”

She looked down at the grass-green jacket and black skirt she was wearing . . . then at the sticklike legs in gaping black boots. She shook her head as she stood up straight again.

She was Daria Morgendorffer. Instantly she felt the cynical, pessimistic and sardonic connection and, despite her recent revelations, she had to admit it was the most comfortable costume yet. She used both hands to feel and examine the large round glasses set nerdishly on her face, then turned around slowly.

As a rule, this persona never smiled unless she had a good reason—a really good reason. Elise had a really good reason.