Read Santa Fe Edge for Free Online Page B

moment to convey his condolences. Tip was momentarily surprised. He had been shaken by Connie’s death but, he reflected, more shaken when he had been arrested. It had not been much of a relationship beyond sex, and he wondered—not for the first time—if God had somehow short-changed him in the emotions department.
    He walked over to the driving range, teed up a ball and snapped into his brain’s swing mode, which obviated any other thought, even of his dead wife. He hit a bucket of balls with his driver and fairway woods and was satisfied with the results. He had improved his driving a lot this season by shaving ten yards off his length and hitting fairways instead of hooks and slices.
    He had lunch in the bar, then put away his clubs and went home. When he got out of the car he saw an envelope propped against his front door. Inside was a letter.
Dear Mr. Hanks,
 
My name is Dolly Parks, and first of all I want to tell you how sad I was to hear of Connie’s death. We had met only recently, but I liked and admired her.
We met when I posted a notice on a bulletin board at the farmers market in town, seeking an assistant’s position, full- or part-time. She called me, and we had lunch, and she told me that the two of you had discussed hiring someone to deal with the bills, the house maintenance and travel arrangements. I was supposed to start next Monday.
I don’t know if you are still interested in hiring someone, but I would appreciate the opportunity to talk with you about it. My number is below.
    Her résumé was attached. She had held office and secretarial jobs in New York for a period of ten years or so.
    Connie and he had talked about hiring a secretary, Tip remembered. He picked up the phone, called her and asked her to come to the house for a drink in the late afternoon.
    He showered and shaved and dressed, then took an hour’s nap. By the time he had roused himself and dressed, the doorbell was ringing.
    Dolly Parks was unexpectedly attractive—small, blond and shapely. She had dressed in informal but appropriate clothes for her interview. Tip invited her into his study. “Would you like a drink?” he asked.
    “No, thanks,” she said. “Maybe later.”
    “I liked your résumé,” he said. “Sounds like you’re a well-organized person. When did you last see Connie?”
    “At the end of last week. She called the day before she … died and said that she had checked my references and that I was hired.”
    “At what salary?” he asked.
    “Twenty-five dollars an hour, health insurance, three weeks’ vacation after six months. She said that she thought you would need me only half a day, but if the work mounted up, maybe longer. That’s why we agreed on an hourly rate. I have one other client in Santa Fe, but I work for him only a couple of hours a day, three days a week.”
    “That sounds fine to me. I’m leaving on Tuesday to play a tournament. Can you start tomorrow? I’d like to get you familiar with the computer banking I’ve set up.”
    “Of course. I’d be glad to.”
    “Come on, I’ll show you some ropes now.” He went to his computer and began explaining the banking program.
    “I’m already working with that for my other client,” she said, “and for the same bank, so I can hit the ground running.”
    “That’s good news,” he said. “My caddie, Mike, has been doing the travel arrangements, but he’s not very good at it, so I’d like you to take over that. I have an airplane and fly myself, so there won’t be much in the way of airline reservations, except for Mike, if he’s meeting me at a tournament. He lives in Dallas.
    “My checks from the PGA are deposited into a savings account at the bank here, and I make computer transfers to the checking accounts, one for business, one for household and personal. I’ll make you a signatory on those two, so you won’t need my signature to pay bills, and I’ll transfer funds into them as needed. My accountant does regular