Blindfold: The Complete Series Box Set Read Free Page B

from anybody.
    I finished that one up just as she managed to compile a somewhat neat stack of information. I looked at it with a combination of trepidation and chagrin.
    “I think what you need,” I said suddenly. “Is to learn how to say no.”
    Immediately, I realized I probably shouldn't have said it. What if she was touchy and took it as judgmental? What if she was whiny?
    But Isadora threw back her head and laughed. “I know, right? It’s always somebody needs to do it and nobody else wants to say yes .”
    Looking away from that engaging smile, I focused on the notes in front of me. Handwritten notes, printed interviews, discs with yet more information, graphs, articles, pictures and a dozen other things that needed to be included in a dozen other newsletters.
    Over the past few hours, I’d learned enough to realize I needed to stop making snap judgments. It was a flaw of mine. A flaw I hated in others, but there I was, doing it far too often.
    It was sad.
    I generally only did it with people like Isadora, the privileged and wealthy. My own kind of people, I gave the benefit of the doubt.
    Isadora spoke up, interrupting my mental reverie. “What time did you say the first newsletter would go out?”
    “About one this afternoon.”
    All in all, that one had been the easiest to do. Cleverly and cleanly written, the author poked fun at more than a few of the well-known families here in the city.
    Arching an eyebrow at her, I smiled. “You afraid we’re going to get mobbed? These streets are quiet. You’ll hear them coming long before they get here.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Well, one of them lives here.”
    “Oh?” I gave her a questioning look. Mr. Findley hadn't said anything about a husband.
    “Yep. My brother.”
    She slid her legs off her side of the chair and rose, arching her arms back high over her head and stretching. It brought her shirt up over her belly, revealing a flat stomach with skin the right kind of pale. I was the other kind of pale, the kind that came with my red hair. My brothers used to say I could cause traffic accidents if I left too much skin exposed. I didn't even freckle in the sun. I just went all lobster crispy.
    Then I processed what she said. “That could get…interesting.” If her brother was anything like mine, I could only imagine how he'd take it. “What do your folks think about this?”
    For the first time, her bright smile dimmed. “They’re gone,” she said softly.
    She moved from the couch to stand in front of the fireplace with its candle-scape insert in the hearth and the pictures that dotted the mantle. She took one down and turned, displaying it in front of her. It revealed a pretty little girl, a handsome young man who looked to be in his late teens. There were two adults, each of them looking to be in their mid-forties. All of them looked happy.
    “They died in a car wreck when I was seven. This picture was taken just a couple of months before it happened.” She turned it back to her, lifting it to trace their faces with her hand. “My brother raised me. I barely remember them.”
    I went to apologize, to say something. I didn’t even know what. I couldn't imagine my life without either of my parents, much less having lost both of them at the same time, and as a child.
    Before I could figure out what I should say, she put the picture down and clapped her hands. “Hey, you know what? I’m starving. You wanna order some pizza?”
    ***
     
    I'd decided this job could work.
    I also thought I might even grow to like the somewhat ditzy, but decidedly adorable Isadora.
    She was smart as hell, but couldn’t focus worth a damn. I found myself psychoanalyzing her all the time and asking strange little questions that were just a little too nosy, but I couldn’t stop myself. She was fascinating.
    She didn’t seem to notice or care, and I was trying to work up the courage to ask yet more questions when we heard a door slam and loud male voices