Chapter 4

When Jack Garrett walked into the office, he had the full attention of every female employee.  Standing six foot five inches tall, with an athletic build, and dressed in a white shirt, red tie and a navy blue, pinstripe Armani suit, he was an impressive figure.  The secretaries looked up as he passed their desks and heaved an unnoticeable sigh.  Today he looked tired and the wind had obviously played havoc with his hair, but he was still the most attractive man they had ever seen.  At thirty-five he was devastatingly handsome, with a charm to match.  It was safe to say that all the ladies in the office were smitten with Jack Garrett, even the married ones.  Just the other day, Margaret Bloom, his assistant, had overheard Caroline and Maria talking in the ladies room.

“I wouldn’t mind being stuck in the elevator with him for a while,” Caroline had said.  “The help crew could take their sweet time getting us out.”

“I know what you mean,” Maria had giggled.  “He could park his shoes under my bed any time.”

“You already have Mike in your bed,” Caroline had objected.  “Your husband, remember?”

Maria had huffed and puffed, “For Jack I’d kick him out.”

And it wasn’t just Caroline and Maria who had fantasies.  On several occasions Margaret had noticed how the rattling on computer keyboards stopped and the adding machines noticeably slowed down as soon as the boss walked in. 

She worried about him sometimes.  What would happen to Jack when she retired?  When he hired her ten years ago; she had been utterly surprised.  At the age of forty-five she had not expected to be hired as the assistant of the president of a newly founded talent agency.  Considering the young and beautiful women Margaret was competing with she was certain one of them would land the job.  But Jack Garrett had hired her, making it quite clear that he wanted an assistant, not a love struck puppy.

“Morning Margaret.”

She could tell by Jack’s tone of voice that something was wrong.  Not only did he look tired, he looked depressed, almost defeated.

When she went into his office with today’s itinerary she also brought along a cup of strong coffee.

“I must look worse than I thought,” Jack said, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “You never bring me coffee.”

“I bring you coffee every morning,” Margaret objected.

“No,” Jack said, a bit of teasing in his voice, “you ask me if I want coffee and only then do you bring a cup.  Now you didn’t even bother to ask.”

“You look like you could use some,” Margaret furrowed her brow.  “Rough night?”

“More like a frustrating evening followed by a sleepless night,” Jack enlightened her.  “I was on my way to a restaurant to meet some friends for dinner when I heard a girl singing.  She was in one of the apartment buildings at the corner of Kennedy and Becker, but I couldn’t make out which one.  I looked up to see if I could spot her on one of the balconies, but I couldn’t see anyone.  So instead of having a fine dinner with friends, I found myself sitting alone on a bench, eating a hamburger, listening to this incredible voice.”

There was amusement in Margaret’s eyes when she stated   “She must have had quite a voice.”

“She did,” Jack nodded dreamily.  “She had the voice of an angel.”

Margaret understood how frustrating this experience must have been for her boss.  He ran a talent agency, represented the finest singers and bands in the country and was sent hundreds of tapes from aspiring artists.  Those whose job it was to listen to those tapes reported back to him when they found a worthwhile talent but Jack was particular, he only accepted the best.  So if he described a voice as that of an angel, she must be really something.

“And you have no idea where you can find her?”

“Not unless I go knocking on every door in each of the four apartment buildings,” he said.  “And even that won’t guarantee anything.  She might have been visiting someone.”

“Could it perhaps have been a recording?  A tape or a CD?”

Jack shook his head.  “I recognized the songs she was singing, but there was no backup music.  It was a single voice, a real voice.”

He heaved a deep sigh.  “So I sat on that bench for about two hours, then went home and spent a sleepless night.  I hope to hell you haven’t got me booked for any meetings today, because I just might pass out from exhaustion.”

Margaret presented him with his schedule and waited for instructions.  He had no meetings, but he was expected to sit in on two auditions, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, with an in between lunch with his friend Bill Turner.

“Get me out of those auditions will you Maggie,” Jack pleaded.  “I’m really not in the mood to sit and listen to these bands.  Reschedule for next week, come up with some kind of excuse.”

“What about your lunch?”

“I’ll give Bill a call,” he said, reaching for the phone.  “Perhaps I can reschedule that too.”

“She was that good?” Margaret asked, turning at the door.

“You have no idea,” he told her.  “Like I said, she had the voice of an angel.”

When the phone was picked up on the other side, Jack asked for Bill Turner but was told Mr. Turner was in conference.  Would he like to leave a message?  When Jack gave his name, the receptionist’s voice changed at once.

“Mr. Garrett, you should have said it was you.  Let me see if I can reach Mr. Turner.”

Moments later Bill Turner’s voice came on the line.  “What’s up Jack?”

“Would you mind if I took a rain check on our lunch today Bill?”  Jack came straight to the point.

“Not at all,” the cheerful but slightly disappointed reply came.  “What’s the matter?  Had a rough night?”

“Something like that.  We can get together tomorrow or sometime next week.”

“Let’s make it tomorrow if possible,” Bill suggested.  “I have someone who might be of interest to you and I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

Jack gave a good humoured snort.  “Of interest to me?  Personal or business?”

“Business.”

“Don’t tell me you found me another singer?”

“I might have.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that I have.”

Jack shook his head in disbelief.  “Bill, you run a modeling agency, how do you end up with a singer?”

“She’s not mine pal,” Bill laughed.  “Amanda is the sister of one of my models.  She came to pick her sister up today after a shoot and I heard her singing in the changing room while she was waiting. Let me tell you, she’s got one hell of a voice on her.  I immediately thought about you, so…”

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, “we’ll meet tomorrow.  Is that soon enough?”

“Perfect.”

Chapter 3

At the bottom of the stairs Betty anxiously awaited Jessie.

“And?” she said, inclining her head a little.  “What did he want to see you for?”

“I just got fired,” Jessie said flatly.

“Fired!” Betty cried, not able to hide the outrage in her voice.  “Why?  What did you do?  What did he fire you for?”

“Apparently a machine is going to do my job,” Jessie shrugged.

Betty was momentarily speechless.  “I … I can’t believe it,” she eventually stammered.  “How could he?  And what do you mean a machine is going to do your job?  How can a machine press shirts and blouses?  It probably can do sheets and tablecloths and other flat things, but how can it do delicate things?”

Jessie merely shrugged.

“So where does that leave me?” Betty added as an afterthought.  “Am I gonna be fired too?”

Jessie took a deep breath, shrugged again and shook her head.  She had no idea.  She also had no idea as to what she was supposed to do now.  Was she supposed to finish her day, or should she say goodbye to everyone and just leave?

“Jessie,” both Jessie and Betty looked up at the sound of Jenny Sullivan’s voice as she came hurrying down the stairs.  “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Betty said, sensing the two women needed some privacy.

“Wanna grab a cup of coffee?”

Jenny led the way to the cafeteria, poured two cups of coffee and took them over to a table by the window. 

“What will you do now?”

“I don’t know,” Jessie said, cupping the coffee between her hands.  “I was actually just thinking about that.  Do I leave now, or do I finish the day?”

“You don’t have to finish the day,” Jenny shook her head.  “You may leave right away if you like.  But before you go I wanted to have a bit of a chat with you.  What will you do now?  What are your plans?  I realize you haven’t had much time to consider your future and you’re probably still in shock, but…”

When Jenny stopped speaking, Jessie looked up.  “But what?”

“Well I wanted to make a suggestion.”

Jessie waited for what was to come.

“I’ve been watching you and listening to you for some time now,” Jenny started tentatively, “and you seem like a very intelligent person.  Every morning I see you come in with The New York Times and you don’t just skim the pages, you read the articles.  And you talk differently than the other workers around here.  You seem to know a lot about politics and the economy in general, and you use words like exemplify, governance and misconstrue.  One would expect such language from a college graduate, not from a … laborer.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great that you’re so well spoken, but you do seem a little out of place here.  Behind a hot press I mean.”

Jessie was temporarily at a loss for words.  On the one hand she felt slightly put off that Jenny was surprised she read the newspaper, took an interest in politics and the economy and knew a few intellectual words. Just because she worked with her hands didn’t mean she didn’t have a mind.  But on the other hand she was flattered that Jenny was taking an interest in her, and she couldn’t wait to hear what she had to suggest.

“I think you can do better than working in a laundry,” Jenny went on.  “I think by terminating your employment here, Mr. Muller might have done you the biggest favor.”

“So what do you suggest?” Jessie said, pinching her eyebrows together.  “Are you saying that I should apply to work in a store?”

Jenny inclined her head.  “Set your sights a little higher Jessie.  Have you thought about going back to school?  Perhaps take a course of some sort?”

“As a matter of fact I have,” Jessie admitted hesitantly.  “But…”

“But what?”

“Courses are expensive.  It would have been difficult enough to pay for a course while I was earning a monthly pay cheque, but now, now that I’ve lost my job…”

“On the contrary,” Jenny interrupted.  “Now is the perfect time.  While you were working it would have been hard to go to night school, but now that you’re not working you have the time to pursue a new career.”

“And what do you suggest I do for money?”

Jenny waved a dismissive hand.  “Since it’s only a matter of money, take any job, any job at all.  Be a waitress in a bar or a restaurant.  It doesn’t pay much, but the tips can add up.  Then once you’re finished with your course you can just walk out.  Do something with your life Jessie.”

Jessie was about to mention that she didn’t know anything about waitressing when Jenny handed her two envelopes.

Jessie recognized her pay packet, but she wondered about the second envelope.  “What is this?” 

“This one is your pay cheque,” Jenny explained.  “This week’s pay plus another four weeks as Mr. Muller promised.  And this,” she tapped the second envelope, “is a gift from Mr. Muller himself.  Invest it wisely.”

After Jenny had left her, Jessie reflected on the five years she had worked for Muller Laundry & Dry Cleaning Services.  At age seventeen she had arrived at this building full of enthusiasm.  She was going to be a working girl.  No more classrooms and homework for her, she was a grown up and she was joining the working force.  She had quickly become friends with all the other workers, especially Betty, who had started working for the laundry a little over a year ago and had shown her the ropes.  They had sought out each other’s company outside work too.  They often went shopping together, went for walks in the park or just visited each other at home.  The years passed and when Jessie lost her parents in a car accident she suggested to Betty they become roommates, but as an only child Betty wouldn’t leave her widowed mother.  In time Jessie considered herself happy.  She had her own apartment, the furnishings – although mainly second hand stuff – were tasteful, and she loved her job.  It wasn’t until she started dating and was repeatedly dumped after mentioning she was a press operator in a laundry service that she became unhappy with her job.  Now her job had come to an unexpected end.  According to Jenny, that was a blessing. 

Jessie finished her coffee, went to the locker room to collect her handbag before heading for the exit.  She knew she should say goodbye to everyone, but she couldn’t face them.  She hated good-byes.  She would see Betty tomorrow, and the others – when they heard the news – well, they would understand.  Outside the gates she turned around for one last look.  For everyone else the weekend was about to begin, followed by another work week.  She had no idea what she would be doing next week.

That night in her apartment Jessie opened the gift envelope.  To her utter amazement inside was a cheque in the amount of three thousand dollars and a note that read:

“Please accept this as a token of my appreciation for the last five years of excellent service. 

Have fun with it.

Harry Muller”.

Jessie knew right away what she would do with the windfall.  Jenny had advised her to invest it wisely, Mr. Muller wrote to have fun with it.  Well she was going to do both.  She was going to invest part of the money in herself and enroll in a secretarial course, and with the rest she was going to go shopping, invest in a whole new wardrobe.  Smiling she reached for the phone.

“Betty,” she said when the call was answered, “want to go to the mall with me tomorrow?”

Chapter 2

But Jessie couldn’t sleep.  She tossed and turned and imagined herself sitting behind a desk. She would be dressed in a stunning outfit, answering ringing phones with a smile on her face.  A million thoughts scurried through her mind.  She knew that completing the course would present many obstacles.  She worried she might not qualify as an applicant due to her lack of education.  If she was accepted it would have to be an evening class.  Would she be able to manage working all day and attending school at night?  She wanted this so badly she would just have to do it.  She also wondered where such classes were held, how long each class was, how long a course was, and how much it would cost.

When a nearby church bell struck two o’clock, Jessie sat up and slipped out of bed.  She would have some hot chocolate.  Maybe that would help her sleep. 

Sipping the hot drink at the kitchen table, she reached for yesterday’s newspaper and turned to the classifieds.  She was surprised at the number of ads for secretaries, administrative assistants and executive assistants.  She wondered what the difference was between an executive assistant and an administrative assistant.  She studied the requirements for each job listed: tying correspondence, typing financial statements, organizing meetings, scheduling appointments, booking flight and hotel accommodations, filing and answering calls.

When she turned the page she saw a number of ads for private colleges.  Some offered courses in drawing and painting, some in car mechanics, hairdressing, foot care and massage.  There were also some that offered secretarial courses.  Jessie’s eyes widened when she saw the price … a thousand dollars for a three month course, not exactly cheap.  Somewhat disheartened she closed the paper, finished her hot chocolate and went back to bed.

The next day at work she made some mental calculations.  Half of her wages went to rent, a portion went to bills, another portion to groceries and toiletries.  That left precious little to spend on personal items or necessities for the apartment.  How could she possibly save up a thousand dollars for a course?

At three o’clock, Betty indicated with a drinking gesture that it was time for a break.

“You look tired,” she commented as soon as she and Jessie sat down at one of the cafeteria tables.  “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine,” Jessie shrugged.  “Just a little tired.  I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Oh?”

“I kept thinking about taking that course, the secretarial course, and…”

“What is it suddenly with you wanting to be an assistant?” Betty demanded in an annoyed tone.  “You’re a press operator.  You have been for five years.  You’ve always been happy with your work.  At least I’ve never heard you complain.  But now suddenly you got it in your head that you want to be an assistant.  What’s wrong with being a press operator?”

At first Jessie said nothing, she just stared at her coffee, but then slowly she started formulating her thoughts.  “I’m tired of being in a steamy room all day Betty.  I’m tired of being hot and sweaty, doing the same thing day after day after day.  I’m tired of watching my life go by.  I’ve been here five years and I’m doing today what I was doing on my first day.  I’m tired of people looking down on me and they do you know.  I met a guy the other day and we hit it off, right up to the point where he asked me what I did for a living, and then suddenly he changed.  You know why he changed?  I do, I wasn’t good enough for him.  And this isn’t the first time it’s happened.  There have been others I’ve gone out with, but who dumped me as soon as they found out I work in a laundry.”

“That’s stupid,” Betty spat.  “Anyone who rates you by what you do, or how much money you have, isn’t worthy of you.”

“Well, that may be true, but that’s not even why I want to take the course.  I want to do it for me, because I want something better for myself.”

“And a secretarial course is the answer?  You think you can be an assistant?”

Jessie stayed silent for a moment.  If Betty didn’t believe in her, what chance did she have with strangers?  But she wanted to try.  She had to try.  If it didn’t work out, it didn’t work out, but she had to try.

“Jessie.”

When Jessie looked up Jenny Sullivan was standing next to her.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Muller would like to see you in his office.”

A sense of panic flooded through Jessie.  In all the years she had worked for the laundry service she had never been asked to go to the boss’ office.  Whatever Mr. Muller had to say was relayed to the staff through memos Jenny pinned on the notice board in the cafeteria.  There was only one occasion when Mr. Muller wanted to see an employee in person … to fire that employee.

But why he would want to fire her?  Jessie had no idea.  She was never late, she was dependable and she was good at her job. 

She cast a worried glance at Betty, who looked just as worried. 

Trembling Jessie got off her chair and followed Jenny up the stairs to the first floor where the offices were located.

“Wait here,” Jenny instructed when they arrived at her office.  “Have a seat please.”

Jenny stepped into the adjoining office and closed the door.  Jessie sat down and looked around her.  So this was Jenny’s office.  Somehow she had pictured it a little bit more glamorous.  It had cream coloured walls, dark brown furniture and a threadbare brown carpet.  The only things that livened up the place a bit were two green potted plants on the windowsill, a pink teddy bear next to Jenny’s computer and a red picture frame on the desk.  But the office was bright with sunshine and Jessie thought how wonderful it must be to have natural light all day; to see the sun and the sky, the rain and the snow.  In the laundry in the basement they worked with harsh white tube lights and had no idea what the weather was like.

“Jessie, Mr. Muller will see you now.”

The door of the adjoining office had opened and Jenny motioned Jessie to step inside.

Jessie didn’t want to go in.  She had the feeling that no good would come of this meeting. 

Keeping her eyes downcast, Jessie couldn’t help but notice the changes as she entered Mr. Muller’s office. The dull brown carpet changed to a plush cream one, and when she looked up she found herself surrounded by luxury.  She knew enough about wood to recognize that the numerous bookcases, credenza and huge desk were oak.  She didn’t have to touch the three piece lounge suite to know that it was made from the softest leather, and she didn’t need to examine the decanter and glasses on the credenza to know they were crystal.  There was a big difference between this office and Jenny’s but in comparison to the laundry area downstairs this place was a palace.

“Jessie,” Harry Muller said rising from the high backed chair behind his desk, “please come in and have a seat.”

Wringing her hands Jessie perched on the indicated chair and waited for what was coming.  She didn’t have to wait long.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you Jessie,” Harry Muller came straight to the point.

Yep, I’m fired, Jessie thought.  She only half heard how her boss praised her work, thanked her for five years of loyal service, but explained that machines were taking over manual labor.  Her mind was in such turmoil she only heard the end of his speech, “So I’m afraid I’m gonna have to let you go.  I’m really sorry Jessie.  It speaks for itself that I will give you an excellent reference and a month’s salary in advance.”

Jessie nodded, thanked her boss and left the office.  As she descended the stairs reality slowly settled in.  She was unemployed.  She didn’t have a job anymore.  She wouldn’t be coming back here on Monday.  What was she going to do?  What was going to happen to her?  She wouldn’t have an income anymore.  How was she going to pay the rent?  How was she going to pay for groceries?  Hang on, don’t panic, she told herself, Mr. Muller had stated that she would get a month’s wages in advance.  Surely she could find another job within a month.  Yes she could do that.  Things would be all right.  She might even find a better job.  Who wanted to work in a steamy laundry anyway?

Chapter 1

 June 1998

Jessie Green glanced at the red digital clock on the wall … 4:30 p.m.  Another half hour and they could all go home.  With a sigh she reached for another shirt from a pile of freshly laundered linen and placed it on the press.  In the five years she had worked for Muller’s Laundry & Dry Cleaning she had pressed hundreds, maybe even thousands of garments: shirts, blouses, slacks, table cloths and bed sheets.  It was not a bad job.  She knew there were better jobs, but with no qualifications, working in a laundry was all she could do.

When Jenny Sullivan came to collect the work orders of the day for invoicing tomorrow, Jessie watched the girl with a mixture of admiration and envy.

Jenny Sullivan was Harry Muller’s assistant and always looked picture perfect.  She never had a hair out of place, a smudge in her make-up, a wrinkle or stain on her clothes, a ladder in her stockings or dirt on her shoes.  Jessie wondered how she did it, how she managed to always look so cucumber fresh. 

Looking at Jenny made Jessie wish she had finished high school, and then she too could have gone to secretarial school and looked smart in cute little outfits, with cute little shoes.  Instead she wore jeans, T-shirts and sneakers to work, because being comfortable was important when you were on your feet eight hours a day. 

She often regretted dropping out of school.  If only she had stuck it out those last three months.  But no, back then she was far too anxious to make her debut into the working world. She felt she was wasting her time in a classroom.  She could not wait to get out into the real world and start earning money.

When Jessie heard that Muller’s Laundry & Dry Cleaning was looking for help she applied for a job and was hired on the spot.  The following Monday, instead of going to school, she proudly went to work.  At the time she was certain she was making the right decision, but now she was not so sure.  If she had graduated she could have her choice of careers.  Instead she worked in this laundry, this hot, steamy laundry and was probably stuck here forever.  Sure she was earning money, but Jenny Sullivan probably made double if not triple of what she was making.

At the sound of her name Jessie looked up from her work and saw Betty McGill frantically tapping her wristwatch.  She cast another glance at the wall clock and nodded at her friend.  It was just after 5:00 p.m.

“Are you okay?” Betty asked as they walked home, noticing that her friend was not her usual talkative self.

Jessie gave a listless shrug.  “Just thinking, you know.”

“About what?”

“The past.  The future.”

Betty frowned.  “That’s heavy thinking my friend.”

“Don’t you ever think about things?”

“Like what?”

“Like what the future holds for you.”

Betty shrugged her shoulders.  “I suppose I’ll meet a nice guy, get married and have kids some day.  What else is there?”

“A career.”

“A career!” Betty burst out laughing. “Jessie, you and I work in a laundry, I would hardly call that a career.”

“Don’t you ever wish you could do something else? Something a little more challenging, a little more sophisticated.”

Betty looked at her friend and smiled.  “Sure I do.  I would like to be a doctor or a lawyer or something else that earns me tons of money, but I’m not exactly qualified.”

Jessie hesitated before making the suggestion.

“We could go back to school.”

Betty laughed again.  “Jess it takes years to qualify as a doctor or a lawyer and we didn’t even finish high school.”

Jessie waved an impatient hand.  “I don’t mean that.  I mean, we could take a course, a secretarial course.”

“You mean learn to type and stuff?”

“That is exactly what I mean.”

Betty looked doubtful.  “I don’t know Jess, I’m sure there’s more to being an assistant than just typing.  I think you have to be smart for that sort of work.”

“We’ are smart Betty.” Jessie retorted with a small edge in her voice.

Betty continued. “And there is the small problem with a decent wardrobe.  You’ve seen the kind of outfits Jenny wears to work.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t have those kinds of clothes.”

Jessie had to admit that Betty had a point.  Their wardrobe was a potential problem.  Both of them wore mainly jeans and T-shirts.  Hardly appropriate office wear.

“Any plans for tonight?” Betty asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“Nothing special,” Jessie answered with a hint of boredom in her voice.  Same thing I do every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday night … ironing.”

“You still iron for your neighbours?”

Jessie nodded.  “Elizabeth and Clara are old, they can’t do their own ironing anymore and they are very grateful that I help them.  I do Elizabeth’s laundry on Mondays, Clara’s on Tuesdays and my own on Thursdays.”

Betty shook her head in wonder.  “I don’t know how you do it girl.  You iron all day long and then you go home to more ironing.  Haven’t you ever suggested to them that they could send out their stuff to a laundry?”

“No,” Jessie said vehemently, “and I’m not about to, it’s extra money for me.”

That night after she finished dinner and washed the dishes, Jessie set up her ironing board and iron and collected the ironing from the storage room.  She switched on the stereo, selected a CD, plugged in headphones and turned up the volume.  She liked nothing better than to sing along with a CD. 

Singing along with a CD was something Jessie loved to do while ironing.  She sometimes worried that the neighbours might hear her, but thought this unlikely.  She never heard a sound from them, so she figured they couldn’t hear her either.  If her voice drifted down to the street through the wide open balcony doors that was different.  People on the street below couldn’t see her.  They didn’t know where she was, didn’t know who she was.

When the last piece of clothing was ironed and folded, Jessie packed away the iron and the board, put the kettle on for a cup of coffee and decided she would curl up with a book on the couch.  She would slip between the pages and let herself be transported to a sleepy Irish village with some wide awake citizens.  She loved the little village in which the story was set, and she loved the people in it.  They seemed so real.  They were not the pretentious high society types with tons of money.  They were not professionals with glamorous careers.  They were ordinary people, with ordinary lives, who loved and cried, worked and struggled, and somehow made a success of what they were doing.  Considering herself ordinary too, Jessie liked reading success stories.  They gave her hope and courage for the future.

When the clock struck eleven she reluctantly closed her book and carried it with her to bed. She stopped to close the balcony door and switch off the lights.  In bed she would read another couple of pages and before falling asleep and dreaming of a wonderful future.

Prologue

When Jack Garrett first heard the otherworldly voice, his head snapped up and he quickly surveyed the street around him.  The song, or rather ‘the voice,’ was hypnotizing, powerful, and crystal clear.  He listened, recognizing the song as Memories, made famous by Barbra Streisand.  He was pretty sure that it wasn’t a recording because he couldn’t hear any accompanying instruments.  His eyes swept over the multi floored apartment buildings, looking for a woman singing; but, he couldn’t see anyone. 

He stood there on the street, with his hands in the pockets of his black cashmere jacket, as he scanned the apartment buildings again, floor by floor, balcony by balcony, looking for any kind of female form. 

“Damn!” he swore, causing one or two pedestrians to look at him disapprovingly.   “Damn, damn, damn!”

How was he going to find this singer?  She could be in any of the numerous apartment buildings on this busy street in Greenwich Village.  If only she would show herself.

When the last notes of her song had faded away, he almost panicked.  His heart was thumping like a drum until the incredible voice started again, this time with Phantom of the Opera.  Her voiced calmed the beating of his heart and he began to relax again. He wondered if she had the skill to hit the high note that challenged so many singers.  He waited in anticipation; but, he wasn’t surprised when she nailed it, effortlessly, just like a professional.

“Where are you girl?” he whispered out loud. “Who are you?  Show yourself.”

He walked up and down the intersection, occasionally stopping to listen more closely, trying to determine where the voice was coming from. 

When his rumbling stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, he ordered a hamburger from street vendor and sat outside on a bench.  In the evening air the angelic voice floated down to him; warming his heart and sending cold chills up his spine. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head.  Such a voice! Such a talent!  And he didn’t have a clue where to look for it.

Voice of an Angel: Prologue