day than that one. Mark had
always
made her happy.
Damn…the night they’d met. She and Shelia had gone to a photo exhibit for the protégé of an old photographer friend of Kelly’s. She hadn’t even wanted to go, since she’d just come back from a two-week business trip to L.A. and just wanted to crawl into bed for thirty consecutive hours. But Eduardo really wanted the guy to have a good showing, and he was a good friend, so Kelly gave in and said she would go. She’d called Shelia and asked her to come with her to make an appearance, pose for a few pictures, and then they’d leave. They were leaning against the bar, each sipping a glass of Chardonnay, when Mark walked in with some cha-cha on his arm. It was so corny, but their eyes met from across the room and Kelly bent over to Shelia and said that even though she didn’t do one-night stands, for him, she’d make an exception. Shelia sized up Mark and said if she wasn’t married,
she’d
snatch him up. Kelly continued to sip her wine and waited for Mark to make his move, as she knew he would. He asked what she did and just to play with him a little, convinced she’d never see him again, told him she did a little modeling. She had to stop herself from laughing over the way his eyes lit up over what he thought was his incredible luck at walking in with one model and going home with another. Within twenty minutes, the cha-cha was fending for herself, Shelia was getting her own cab, and Kelly and Mark were heading to her place. The next morning, in the light of day, he looked at her, nonplussed and more than a little suspicious, and asked again what she did. She only offered him a coy smile, and then he laughed and said, “You’ve done more than just ‘a little modeling,’ wouldn’t you say?”
And that had been it. Nine months later, they’d gotten married in a posh ceremony at the Drake. Professionally, she still went by Kelly Ross, but personally, she went by Monroe. It had always given her a little thrill though when people referred to her as Mrs. Monroe.
Kelly snapped out of her reverie and set about taking care of the business at hand. She started opening drawers in the desk, searching through the files but finding nothing other than stuff about his clients. Frustrated, Kelly tapped her nail against the desk when she turned to look at the computer. She flipped it on, wanting to look at his email, but the whole computer was password-protected, and after ten tries she gave up and shut it off. Kelly then looked across the room at the massive black and white framed print of the city’s skyline on the wall opposite her.
The safe.
She’d forgotten all about the safe.
Will Always Come To Light…
R ummaging through her purse, Kelly pulled out her wallet and searched until she found the combination tucked in the pocket behind her checkbook. She took out the dingy blue piece of paper and unfolded it. Mark kept copies of all of their joint financial papers there and had given Kelly the combination, although she’d never once used it herself, letting Mark maintain it.
Maybe he counted on the fact that I never used it. Maybe there’s a clue in there.
She stood up, walked across the room, and unhooked the frame from the wall, laying it gently against the couch. Shifting her attention between the safe and the combination, Kelly’s fingers nimbly turned the knob. Praying that she’d gotten the number of turns right, she crossed her fingers and turned the lever.
Bingo.
She opened the safe door, grabbed the numerous accordion folders, and spread everything out on the coffee table. She sat down on the couch and began to sift through the paperwork stacked in front of her. Nothing out of the ordinary. Their life insurance policies, the deed to the condo, the titles for their cars, assorted joint investments they had, Mark’s individual investments. She used to tell him they should get a safety deposit box for all this stuff, but he would just laugh and
always
made her happy.
Damn…the night they’d met. She and Shelia had gone to a photo exhibit for the protégé of an old photographer friend of Kelly’s. She hadn’t even wanted to go, since she’d just come back from a two-week business trip to L.A. and just wanted to crawl into bed for thirty consecutive hours. But Eduardo really wanted the guy to have a good showing, and he was a good friend, so Kelly gave in and said she would go. She’d called Shelia and asked her to come with her to make an appearance, pose for a few pictures, and then they’d leave. They were leaning against the bar, each sipping a glass of Chardonnay, when Mark walked in with some cha-cha on his arm. It was so corny, but their eyes met from across the room and Kelly bent over to Shelia and said that even though she didn’t do one-night stands, for him, she’d make an exception. Shelia sized up Mark and said if she wasn’t married,
she’d
snatch him up. Kelly continued to sip her wine and waited for Mark to make his move, as she knew he would. He asked what she did and just to play with him a little, convinced she’d never see him again, told him she did a little modeling. She had to stop herself from laughing over the way his eyes lit up over what he thought was his incredible luck at walking in with one model and going home with another. Within twenty minutes, the cha-cha was fending for herself, Shelia was getting her own cab, and Kelly and Mark were heading to her place. The next morning, in the light of day, he looked at her, nonplussed and more than a little suspicious, and asked again what she did. She only offered him a coy smile, and then he laughed and said, “You’ve done more than just ‘a little modeling,’ wouldn’t you say?”
And that had been it. Nine months later, they’d gotten married in a posh ceremony at the Drake. Professionally, she still went by Kelly Ross, but personally, she went by Monroe. It had always given her a little thrill though when people referred to her as Mrs. Monroe.
Kelly snapped out of her reverie and set about taking care of the business at hand. She started opening drawers in the desk, searching through the files but finding nothing other than stuff about his clients. Frustrated, Kelly tapped her nail against the desk when she turned to look at the computer. She flipped it on, wanting to look at his email, but the whole computer was password-protected, and after ten tries she gave up and shut it off. Kelly then looked across the room at the massive black and white framed print of the city’s skyline on the wall opposite her.
The safe.
She’d forgotten all about the safe.
Will Always Come To Light…
R ummaging through her purse, Kelly pulled out her wallet and searched until she found the combination tucked in the pocket behind her checkbook. She took out the dingy blue piece of paper and unfolded it. Mark kept copies of all of their joint financial papers there and had given Kelly the combination, although she’d never once used it herself, letting Mark maintain it.
Maybe he counted on the fact that I never used it. Maybe there’s a clue in there.
She stood up, walked across the room, and unhooked the frame from the wall, laying it gently against the couch. Shifting her attention between the safe and the combination, Kelly’s fingers nimbly turned the knob. Praying that she’d gotten the number of turns right, she crossed her fingers and turned the lever.
Bingo.
She opened the safe door, grabbed the numerous accordion folders, and spread everything out on the coffee table. She sat down on the couch and began to sift through the paperwork stacked in front of her. Nothing out of the ordinary. Their life insurance policies, the deed to the condo, the titles for their cars, assorted joint investments they had, Mark’s individual investments. She used to tell him they should get a safety deposit box for all this stuff, but he would just laugh and
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