Louise shook her head. “The light is wrong there. At least move in front ofthe bookshelf.”
Was there anything on the bookshelf that would identify her? “Sure,” Gemma said easily, moving toward the shelf and staying at the edge, where the light coming in from the snowy day would stillcast a shadow.
Louise clicked several shots. “Those glasses are way too bigfor your face.”
“I like them,” Gemma said. Of course they were too big for her face—that was the best way to disguise her features short of wearing a mask. “I’d prefer not to have my picture onthe Internet.”
“Sorry.” Louise put the phone in her pocket. “It’s university policy—we like for the students to see their professors.” She winked. “Besides, you’re so pretty, I figured you’d want your picture out there. We like to link to social media pages, but I can’t find any for you. Am I looking in thewrong places?”
Gemma forced a laugh. “No. I think social media has destroyed our society and refuseto take part.”
“You’re not wrong, and it’s smart not to have things out there that can damage your reputation. I totally agree.” Louise nodded. “Also, your bio hasn’t updated on your faculty page yet. You have your degrees listed but no institutions or work experience.”
“That’s odd. I updated those. I’ll take a look tomorrow.” How long could she hold off on that? Gemma clasped her bag, needing to see her baby. She’d spent her late lunch with Trudy and met the other kids, and now she wanted to go home—to Serena’s home anyway—and snuggle down and read a story. She’d worry about the picture on the Internet later. Hopefully Louise wasn’t a very good photographer. “I’ll seeyou tomorrow.”
“You bet.” Louise hustled away.
Gemma locked her door and scrunched her feet in Serena’s old boots, wishing they were a size bigger. But she’d been lucky to find them in the back of a closet, and her friend had told her she could borrow anything she wanted while staying in Serena’s eclectic home. Gemma pulled a yellow knit hat out of the satchel and plunked it on her head, making sure not to dislodge her wig. She needed to find gloves. Steeling her shoulders, she walked down the long hallway to the exit, taking one last breath of heated air before opening it.
Her steps quickened as she strode outside and down the salt-covered but still icy steps. Cold instantly assaulted her bare skin. Perhaps Serena had a couple of scarves somewhere. Gemma hunched her shoulders, tucked her hands in her pockets, and walked around several brick buildings to the day care, noting that the snow had increased in force. January in DC seemed colder than she’d expected.
She hurried inside the day care and warmth welcomed her chilly body. Trudy looked up from her seat on a bright orange pillow in the reading corner, her trusty blanket over her lap.
A myriad of kids occupied different areas of the large room with a couple of girls playing dress-upby the window.
“Mama!” Trudy gurgled, happily standing and yankingup her blanket.
Warmth and love flooded through Gemma. “Hi, baby.”
Barb, a lovely woman with glitter in her hair, stood and set down the book she’d been reading out loud. “We had a good day.” She brought Trudy to the door and reached for a clipboard from a set of shelves. “You just need tosign her out.”
Gemma did so, and then Barb opened the gate, allowing the toddlerto barrel out.
“We ate fish,” Trudy said happily, her blue eyes dancing.
“Fish? Yum!” Gemma bent down and gathered her daughter in a hug, inhaling her scent of baby powder, glitter, and crayons. “Those are my favoritecrackers, too.”
Her daughter chattered on about her day as Gemma carried her outside into the cold, rushing over to her car, which she’d parked as close to the day care as possible. She wanted to keep Trudy out of the cold, so parking at the day care and walking across campus had been the best move. Snow covered the ancient Subaru she’d purchased with cash, and she carefully secured Trudy in her car seat, tucking her knit hat down over her ears and ensuring her little hands remained beneath the extra blankets kept in the car. “Keep those blankets on you until the car finishes warming up,” she said. Then she shut the door, jumped into the driver’s seat, and ignited the engine.
Trudy continued talking about a doggy named Rot-co.
Gemma smiled, feeling lighter than she had all day. She fetched the scraper from the floor, jumped back out into the frigid air and went to work on the windows while smoke puffed out the rear exhaust.
She’d almost finished when she noticed the back right tire. It was flat. Not just a little flat, but down to the rims. She swallowed and bent to look closer. The tires were all-weather but worn. Very worn down. A flat was not unexpected. She ran the scraper across the icy rubber but couldn’t see any evidenceof a puncture.
This was normal. People got flat tires—especially when their tires were old and the tempswere freezing.
She could handle this.
Okay. She moved to open the trunk and stared at the stained carpet. Reaching for the little handle at the edge, she said a quick prayer that there’d be a spare tire where there should be. She should’ve already checked. Her sigh of relief wafted visibly throughthe cold air.
A tire—a smaller one than the others—lay in the well. She pulled it out, biting her lip. It was a temporary tire. Where was she going to get the money to buy a new tire before she was paid? Payday was two weeks away. The wind ripped against her skin and she set the tire on the ground, reaching for the jack. One thing at a time.
A car pulled up next to her. A big, black, shiny SUV with what looked like brand-new snow tires. She turned to see Dr. Jethro Hanson jump out of the driver’s side with his dog right behind him. The dog was a German shepherd with gorgeous black markings, andit moved fast.
“Need help?” he asked politely, already reaching for the tire.
“I don’t think so,” she said, rolling the spare tire toward the flat one. Sure, she’d never changed a tire before, but how hard could it be? “That’s kind of you, though.”
