Dying Wishes (30 page)

“Wait a minute,” I protested. “Answer all these phones? I mean,
aren’t there people here who do that?”

Already halfway down the aisle, Charlene looked over her shoulder
at me and chuckled, eyes merry. “Why, yes, and now you’re one of them! By the
way, call me
Strutter
. Everyone else does.” She
winked and sashayed down the aisle on impossibly curvy legs, leaving no doubt
about the derivation of her nickname. Two telephone lines began ringing
simultaneously.

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