CHAPTER TWO
Carol Benson hummed softly to herself as she sat before the dressing table combing out her long silken blonde hair. A tiny pout lined her lips as she struggled momentarily against a particularly stubborn snag that impeded the smooth course of the brush running downward toward her shoulders.
"Ninety eight, ninety nine, and one hundred, there finished." she breathed in relief. She hated this morning ritual, but had been doing it since she was a little girl. It was one of those things her mother had insisted on as being healthy for the hair and she had to admit it had certainly helped her to retain that soft golden look, although, she sometimes wondered if it wouldn't have remained that way anyway. She took a long last critical look at it and then apparently satisfied, began to
