Margot Dalton - The Newcomer

“And when will that be, Maggie?” he asked quietly, lifting the little gate so she could walk behind the reception desk.

“Beg your pardon?” She perched on one of the stools and looked hungrily at the carafe of hot coffee, the platter of fluffy biscuits.

Doug poured her a cup of coffee and offered the biscuits, along with napkins and utensils.

“How long will you be staying, Maggie? And what,” he asked with a sudden steely edge to his voice, “exactly are you doing here?”

Maggie tensed, but forced herself to sip coffee and butter one of the biscuits with a casual air. “Well, the fact is, at the moment I’m working on a little research project of my own,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

He settled onto the stool next to her and helped himself to a biscuit.

“Because Ralph Wall’s been telling everybody within a fifty-mile radius that you’re working for a movie producer who’s planning to buy up all the real estate and shower the place with money. I was hoping you might want to tell me what’s really going on.”

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