“No problem,” the clerk said.“They just have some questions about late paperwork.”
The same evaluating look crossed the man’s face as he studied the two of them, only there was no softening of his expression.“Late paperwork?”he asked, his voice clipped.
Billy took an immediate disliking to the man and his bad comb-over.He’d run into the guy’s type time and time again.Tamping down old frustrations, he nodded at Roxie.“She’s been waiting for eight weeks.”
Roxie smiled at the office dictator in a way that was about as real as those plants down on the first floor.“I’ve tried calling and emailing, but your office has been unresponsive, Mister…”
She lifted her eyebrows enquiringly.
“Fenton.Albert Fenton.”He touched the knot on his pea green tie.“Manager.”
Sure, throw the title on there to show people how important you are.
“Please,” he said.“Come into my office.”
“Oh.”Roxie looked at the clerk whose fingers were already flying across the keyboard.“I don’t think that’s necessary.I was hoping to just pick up a copy here in person.”
“No, no.If you’ve been having problems with my staff, I want to hear about it.”
Billy shrugged when Roxie threw a glance back at him.He didn’t want to spend any more time here than necessary, either.He looked down at the clerk, but her hands were now in her lap and she was shooting a fearful look at her boss’s office.
She didn’t seem like an alternative anymore.
Billy swore underneath his breath.Together, they followed the manager into his office.It was as plain as the cubicles outside it.The walls were tan, the carpeting was beige, and the desk was brown.He sat down in an uncomfortable chair next to Roxie.When she tossed a glare at him, he sat up straighter.Damn, but being here brought back bad memories.
“Now,” Fenton said as he tucked away some papers.“You say you haven’t received prompt service from my office?”
“I filed a Form 19-SS/A two months ago,” Roxie said.“I was in foster care from the age of two until I was sixteen and I recently found my sisters—”
“Two months,” he repeated, his brow knitting.
She pulled back in surprise but went with it.“I’ve called and I’ve emailed, but I haven’t been able to get a response.”
Fenton’s pinched face turned even more dour.
“I’m quite unhappy to hear this.”He held out his hand for the copies of the paperwork.“Let me see who’s been handling this request.”
Billy cleared his throat.“We really don’t want to point fingers.We just want the files that Roxie is due.”
Fenton’s mouth pinched, and the way he shifted in his seat, it didn’t look like that was the only thing puckering.“If someone is falling down on the job, I need to take steps to correct it.”
Roxie drummed her fingers on the armrest as the man began to hunt and peck on a desktop computer that looked about ten years old.“I appreciate that, but I’m really anxious for the results.You see, the sisters that I found?We’re more than full-blood; we’re identical triplets.”
Fenton waved his hand, his focus on the monitor.“The details are immaterial.All Forms 19-SS/A should be handled in the same manner.”
Immaterial?Billy rocked forward in his chair, but Roxie bar-armed him to hold him back.
“They were both adopted, by different families,” she continued.
Fenton squinted and lifted his glasses.“Is that a nine or a four?”
Billy’s fingers wrapped around the arms of the chair.For the love of God.
A tap came at the door, and the manager looked up.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr.Fenton.”It was the mousy clerk.“It’s noon.Since you’re handling this, I’ll be taking my lunch now.”
Fenton looked at his watch.Picking up his pen, he marked the time down on a notebook.“It’s 12:02, Carol.Be back on time.”
