Saving Gracie Part 24

"Nice gla.s.ses." Angela said.

Quinlan, self-conscious, touched the rim of the glittery eyewear. "Thank you."

"Follow me please." Angela sprinted away from the landing area. Quinlan double-timed her steps to keep up.

"Excuse me?" the Urkel voice yelled.

Angela stopped and turned. "What is it, Edward?"

"Can I get down now?" the whiney voice asked.

Angela thought for a moment. "Before you're released, I want you to spend some time revisiting how your calculations can get so-how should I say-screwed up." Angela wheeled around and continued her brisk pace. "Then we'll talk," she yelled over her shoulder.

"Are you really going to leave him hanging there?" Quinlan's heart pounded trying to keep pace with Angela.

"Oh, he'll be fine." Angela waved in dismissal. "I've delayed his release command for fifteen minutes. That should be long enough." Angela shook her head. "Trainees...."

Angela reminded Quinlan of a 70's Cover Girl with her fair complexion, clear blue eyes and playful strawberry blonde loose curls around her shoulders. A wicked smile hung around her lips. She walked with shoulders back, oozing confidence.

"So, have you been to my cafe?" Angela asked.

"Excuse...me?" Quinlan puffed, struggling to catch her breath.

"My cafe. You know, the one at Starlight and Second?"

Quinlan's heart tha-thumped even harder. "You're that Angela?"

"In the flesh." Angela shot a sideways smile. "Well, not literally. Actually, it's not really mine. We're not owners there, you know. I just supplied the recipes so they named it after me."

"Those are your recipes?" Quinlan felt like she'd just met Julia Child incarnate. "Even the white chocolate cheesecake?"

"Yep. All mine." Angela stopped. "Is that your favorite?"

"That or the...Tiramisu," Quinlan gasped. "Or the caramel cream puff." Obvious to the casual observer, her serious winded condition may have been a direct result of how well versed she'd become on the luscious desserts. "My sister adores your baklava. And...the chocolate macaroons." She couldn't wait to tell Meghan she'd met the Angela. "We go there...every Sat.u.r.day afternoon." Quinlan rephrased. "I mean...we used to."

Angela's Cover Girl's power walk led them to the station building, which looked like the top half of a Roman cathedral planted in green gra.s.s. Angela showed Quinlan how to press the gold card on the sensory panel mounted next to the towering leaded-gla.s.s doors.

Commotion filtered the ma.s.sive lobby. A self-playing grand piano off to one side pounded an upbeat rendition of Stardust. Several small groups of people loitered around, smiling, shaking hands and engaging in conversation. Others waited patiently for elevators and greeted those exiting when the doors opened. Creating a bustle of activity, the people in the lobby seemed genuinely happy, not hurried or the least bit stressed.

Angela steered her toward the front desk. Quinlan couldn't help but notice a giant Mr. Clean-looking black man sweeping the highly polished floor, clothed in a sky blue jumpsuit.

"May I see your ID, please?" asked the female at the front desk.

Quinlan broke her gaze away from Mr. Clean and produced the bracelet, which was scanned and returned to her.

"Wait here." Angela turned and left Quinlan's side.

Studying her surroundings, she squinted. The walls and floors were finished in a greenish-brown patina gloss, making it difficult to distinguish where floors ended and walls began. An Alice in Wonderland optical illusion, on top of Quinlan's astigmatism, further distorted her vision. She blinked hard, recognizing the high probability of running into a wall. How embarra.s.sing. She grabbed her notepad.

Caution walls/floors-station building She folded her arms and felt a twig poking out of her sleeve. She quickly worked it free, feeling terribly disheveled and conspicuous. Quinlan blew out relief when Angela returned.

"Okay, Edward made it back with your bag. At least he got that right." Angela's lip's pulled back tightly. "It'll be a miracle if he gets his green parachute. This is his third go-round as escort trainee."

Quinlan secretly pulled for Eddie. The young man needed some guidance. Maybe she could offer some suggestions. For starters, like how to hold a conversation.

"Next, you report to the auditorium." Angela smiled. "Initial orientation, nothing to worry about. General rules, that sort of thing."

Another orientation? Dread. "How long will that take?"

Angela raised an eyebrow. "You have plans?"

"Uh...no. Of course not." Tons, Quinlan thought.

"Let's see, that'll take about an hour and then," Angela checked her clipboard, "you'll be done for the day. Also, now that you're here, you'll be operating on Earth time."

With the end of the first day finally in sight, Quinlan released the breath she felt she'd been holding for hours.

The auditorium nearly full, Quinlan took a seat toward the back. People of all ages filled the rows in front of her. An enormous screen covering the entire stage lowered from behind red velvet swags. The lights dimmed to twilight and the taped orientation began.

After the session ended, Quinlan slipped out the nearest door and found Angela talking to handsome Mr. Clean with the spotless light blue jumpsuit.

"There you are." Angela said. "How was it?"

Quinlan opened her mouth to speak but Angela waved before she could answer.

"Never mind. We'll talk later. I want you to meet Thomas." She swung her gaze toward the man standing beside her. "He's our ground patrol supervisor."

Quinlan's mouth fell open. She immediately slammed it shut.

Thomas, the exquisitely tall, distinguished-looking black man, sported a shiny head and a diamond stud in his left ear. He extended a Shaq-size hand. "You thought I worked in maintenance, right?" his laugh boomed. "Happens all the time."

He'd noticed her too! Quinlan placed her hand in his. "Oh no, not at all," she lied. Warm fingers closed around hers, radiating heat up her arm and through her body. A sugary smell filled the air around her. She'd never seen a jumpsuit pulled off quite so elegantly. Another mental note.

Handsome man in jumpsuit attirepossible supervisor "Thomas, this is Quinlan. She's the special case...." Angela coughed. "Excuse me...I mean, a.s.signment I told you about." She flashed eyes at Thomas.

"It's a pleasure." Thomas held her hand a second longer before releasing, his smile mesmerizing. "Let me know, Ms. Quinlan, if there's anything I can do for you."

"Thank you," Quinlan mumbled, her hand suspended in air where Thomas had left it. Wow. Such a gentleman, Quinlan thought. And so...handsome.

"Time to go." Angela grabbed Quinlan's elbow, breaking her eye-lock on Mr. Clean. "Later, Thomas."

Thomas nodded.

"It was a pleasure-" Quinlan started until Angela yanked harder on her elbow.

"C'mon, I said we've got to go," Angela said. "Thomas has that effect on women. Smells like lemon drops, right?"

"Cotton candy."

Angela released her hold on Quinlan and jumped into her brisk pace. "Okay, forget about Thomas for a minute. Tell me what you learned."

"Let's see." Quinlan shook the sugary sweet smell from her head and reached for her notepad. "We a.s.sist, guard, protect, comfort, support and intercede."

"For the purpose of?"

"Personal growth and development," Quinlan answered.

"And, under no circ.u.mstances, do we...."

"I know I wrote that down somewhere." Quinlan fumbled through her notes.

Angela halted, causing Quinlan to plow into the woman in white. "Here it is." She looked up into icy blue eyes that could cut through steel.

"Go on," Angela said.

"We're not allowed to interfere with free-will and lessons or challenges to be...." she flipped to the next page, "learned."

"Study that one tonight."

"Well, I thought I'd go over most of my notes-" Quinlan flipped back through the pages of her notepad.

Angela planted her hands on Quinlan's shoulders. "I said, study that one!"

"Okay." Quinlan drew out the word, pouting. She felt five. Geez.

After delivering Quinlan to her new living quarters, Angela pulled a cell phone from her pocket and punched numbers.

"She's here. Just wanted to let you know," Angela said.

"And the trip?" Mary asked.

"Pretty uneventful. Except for the landing, of course."

"Her escort?"

"Edward." Angela smirked and shook her head.

"Ah yes, Edward."

"Uh-huh. Third time this month...fourth, according to him." Angela chuckled. "I think our Mr. Friendly Skies escort needs to repeat landing procedures."

"You may be right."

"He's going to set a record at this rate." Angela stood with her hand on her hip.

"Now Angela-"

"I know. We're not keeping track."

"Do work on your patience with him," Mary requested.

"I'll try," Angela said. "Hey, liked the flashy eyegla.s.ses."

"As you know, the gla.s.ses are standard procedure. The bling was Maggie's idea."

"Nice touch." Angela stifled a yawn, realizing Quinlan had zapped her energy supply.

"Keep me posted," Mary said.

"I will." Angela paused. "Say hi to George and Maggie."

CHAPTER 29.

QUINLAN AND ANGELA.

For the next week Quinlan morphed into Angela's shadow. Her first a.s.signment: protect, comfort and guard.

"I'm starting with the easier ones-best to get those under your belt." Angela led Quinlan to a busy intersection. "Here, you have two choices." Angela moved to the middle of the crosswalk. "You hold up your arm with a commanding presence, like this." Angela stuck her arm in the air with the fervor of an Amazon princess. "This protects those crossing the street."

Quinlan scratched her head. "Wouldn't a whistle help?"

Angela's posture stiffened. "Uh...no. This isn't elementary school."

Quinlan's head sunk into her shoulders. "So what's the other option?"

"Walk them across." Angela ever so lightly placed an arm around the shoulder of a head-phoned teenager crossing the street. "Like this."

She scribbled in her notebook. "Stop traffic or escort across."

Angela stood in front of her, arms crossed, foot tapping. "You know, you don't have to write everything down."

Sticking her pen behind her ear, Quinlan stuffed the notepad in her pocket. "I always have lists."

"Just because you've always done something one way doesn't mean it's the only way." Pause. "Write that down?"

"Why?"

The ground patrol squinted, yanked a miniature iPad from her pocket and made her own notation.