A crash sounded as a huge object nearby toppled and fell. Kane took an instinctive backward step, and bumped into something soft.
"Oh ... excuse me, sir!"
He turned, and had a confused vision of an apologetic smile in a pretty young face, of red curls knocked into disarray—and of amazingly short shorts and a tantalizingly wispy halter.
She recovered the notebook she had dropped and hurried on, leaving a faint cloud of perfume in her wake and a disturbing memory of curving, golden tan legs and a flat little stomach that had been exposed both north and south to the extreme limits of modesty.
"A personnel supervisor from Beachville," Larue said. "She was sunbathing when the plane arrived to pick her up and had no time to obtain other clothing. Father Brenn firmly insisted upon losing not one minute of time during this emergency."
A crane rumbled into view and its grapples seized the huge object that had fallen.
"Our central air-conditioning unit," Larue said. "It had to go."
"You're putting something else in its place, of course?"
"Oh yes. We must have more space but Father Brenn opposed the plan of building an annex as too dangerously time consuming. The only alternative is to tear out everything not absolutely essential."
Kane left shortly afterward, satisfied that the Saints were doing as Brenn had said.