Telling her parents only that she'd been given a three-day trial period, Charly poured over the files until she felt she knew everything there was to know about them. She had noticed the one right away that was causing McKinnon to smirk. There was a note on it suggesting that the policy should be cancelled immediately if repairs to the barn weren't completed. It was dated several weeks ago. The file also told her there was no mortgage, so the farmer was probably in good shape financially and his buildings, pigs and equipment were well insured. So what was his problem?
There didn't appear to be anything remarkable about the other two files, but she strongly suspected that they were also women-haters. There would be something to look out for anyway.
She checked her digital camera over carefully and made sure she had an adequate supply of fully charged batteries. Although brokers were required to submit photos with the policy applica- tions, she knew some would be missing and others outdated.
As Monday morning approached, she found herself becoming increasingly nervous. She had purchased a detailed county map and had located the three farms, then planned the route she would follow in order to visit them without backtracking.
Her next problem was what to wear. She had to look professional but her clothes also had to be wash and wear, so she had bought five serviceable jumpsuits in deep pastel colours. They were sturdy, washable and quite attractive with an elasticized waist that emphasized her figure.
But she didn't want to wear one on Monday when Mr. McKinnon would be accompanying her. Finally deciding on a pair of chocolate brown trousers and tan blazer, with a tailored antique-gold shirt, she braided her waist-length auburn hair into one long plait which she twined into a knot on the back of her head. Slipping her feet into a comfortable pair of sand desert boots, she picked up matching clutch purse, her files and camera and headed for the car, pulse racing and a knot in her stomach.
The drive to Picton passed in a blur as her mind concentrated on the files and the information she had tried to assimilate. Anything to avoid thinking about Mr. McKinnon and the prospect of having him looking over her shoulder every inch of the way.
But thoughts of him rushed solidly to the forefront when she pulled up outside the office at 8:50 to find him already there. All six feet two inches, leaning against his black Cadillac, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest.
Determined to hide her nervousness, she drove up beside him and, reaching across the width of the car, opened the door for him.