91

Wilma Munro is a shock to the system. She’s Scottish and her accent is thick, but not completely alien, with hints of a long New York residency. I can understand her for the most part and she’s a resolute force to be reckoned with.

Wilma is small with dark coppery curly hair and huge brown eyes set in a love heart face, standing at only four and a half feet tall. She catches me immediately in her whirlwind of enthusiastic energy. Loud, but not in a commanding way, she is direct, yet friendly and slightly terrifying. She whisks me into my new domain, assigns me a desk near her office, and outlines my responsibilities as part of her team, thrusting a box of files at me. She believes throwing someone in at the deep end brings out their inner worth.

“I’ve heard enough about you, Miss. Anderson, to know you were being wasted at Carrero Tower. I’ve great expectations of you.” She smiles warmly, soft eyes twinkling merrily as she fawns over