The Chosen

she thought. She’d only been off the premises once, in Dan B.’s dented station wagon. “I’ll also be picking up some locks for my walk-ins,” she added. “Kyle said—or at least he implied—that there’s a pilfering problem. Is that true?”

“Oh, I’m sure it goes on. Who knows what else goes on behind management’s back?”

Dolts, Vera remembered Kyle’s reference to the staff. What a malicious shithead. One day I’ll dolt him.

“It’s not that I don’t trust the help,” Feldspar said, “but you can’t trust everyone. A fair rule of thumb in this business is to put a lock on everything.”

Then try locking your office door for starters, she felt inclined to advise, but let it go. Instead, she thanked him again and left.

She went up for her coat and purse, not admitting a childish excitement. It’s probably a ’65 Corvair, she thought. It’s probably a motor scooter. “Let’s go for a ride,” she invited, when Donna stepped out of her own bedroom. “Feldspar finally got me my company car, and I need to stop by the bank.”

Dan B. could be heard snoring in the background. “I could use a shopping spree,” Donna said, whisking on her coat.

“Don’t count on much of a shopping spree in Waynesville,” Vera reminded. “What’ve they got? A Dart Drug and a Save-On?”

“And a Sinclair station! Dan B. needs some brake fluid, I can hardly wait to get out of here.” They went downstairs, passing the plump, pasty maid dusting on the landing. The woman averted her eyes when Vera said hello, and made no reply.

“What is with these people?” Donna remarked. “They won’t even look at us.”

“I’ve already gotten used to that,” Vera said as they crossed the atrium. “I guess there’s no law that says people have to be friendly.’’

Outside was still and cold. The grounds looked good in spite of the drab winter; the heated fountain gushed. “So what kind of car did the boss get you?” Donna asked as they followed the long path around the side of The Inn.

But before Vera could even answer, she was staring, voiceless, into the parking lot. I do hope you like blue, she remembered him saying. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Donna squealed. “Feldspar gave you that?”

Parked right alongside of Feldspar’s glossy red Lamborghini Diablo was an identical one, in jet-lacquered deep blue.

««—»»

“I cannot believe this,” Donna said.

“Neither can I.” Vera’s grin felt like a net spread across her face. The blue Lamborghini seemed to soar on air when she turned out of the hotel entrance onto Route 154. Plush ribbed leather and the ergonomic interior enveloped them; it felt like sitting in a space capsule. The suspension laid a cushion over the pocked and broken route to town.

“Make it go,” Donna bid.

Vera was almost afraid to. Her foot barely touched the gas, yet they were doing fifty already. She eased it down a little more, and the sleek car leapt ahead, eating up road. Another moment and they were doing seventy-five. Vera didn’t even want to think about what would happen if she pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor.

Donna grinned ahead, as the open field blurred by. “When he said he was going to give you a car, he wasn’t fooling around.”

“Well, he didn’t give it to me,” Vera corrected. “It belongs to the company. I get to use it.”

“I’ll bet this thing cost more to insure than three normal cars. It’s