Read Online The Key by Jennifer Sturman - Free Book Online Page A

front of me. This morning, at work.”
    “Talk about burying the lead,” said Hilary. “You’re like Hart to Hart. ”
    I stared at her. “I’m not following.”
    “Did you spend the eighties in a land with no TV? Hart to Hart. ‘When they met, it was murder.’ Only with you it’s more like, ‘Where she goes, there’s murder.’”
    The reference clicked in my mind. “Promise me you’ll stage an intervention if Peter and I start driving matching Mercedes or get a dog named Freeway.”
    “A houseman might be sort of cool, even if he was named Max,” said Jane.
    “Besides, what makes you think it was murder?” I asked.
    “Was it?” asked Emma.
    “Well, yes. It seems to have been.” I filled them in, rehashing the same material Jake and I had gone over that afternoon.
    “What’s the story with this Jake guy?” asked Hilary.
    “Yes, his name is coming up quite a lot,” added Luisa.
    “He’s just a friend from the office, and then he ended up working on the deal, too. He transferred in from Chicago a couple of months ago.”
    “Single?” asked Jane.
    “Uh, divorced.”
    “What’s he like?” asked Hilary.
    “Standard-issue banker type.”
    “So, he’s probably an utter jerk.”
    “No, not at all. He’s a really good guy.”
    My friends exchanged not-so-subtle knowing looks with each other.
    “What?” I asked.
    “Somebody should do a case study on you,” said Luisa.
    “One of those relationship experts who writes self-help books about how to get men over their commitment issues,” said Hilary. “Only it would be about getting women over their commitment issues. You could be an entire chapter.”
    “Just a chapter?” asked Luisa. “Rachel could fill more than a chapter.”
    “Now what are you talking about?” I asked.
    “Your commitment issues,” said Jane.
    “I don’t have commitment issues,” I protested. I looked to Emma for backup.
    “Sorry, Rach,” she said. “You have commitment issues.”
    “Peter just moved in and instead of enjoying it you’re whining about closet space and aftershave,” said Hilary.
    “I wasn’t whining—”
    “And every other word out of your mouth is the name of another man,” said Luisa.
    “Jake’s just a friend—”
    “A friend you spend more time with than you do your own fiancé,” said Jane. “And who you tell things you avoid telling Peter.”
    “What are you scared of?” asked Emma.
    “What do you mean, what am I scared of?”
    “You must be scared of something,” she said. “Why else would you be looking for reasons to shut Peter out?”
    I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but it turned out I didn’t have to because our waiter chose that moment to deliver a round of fresh drinks. His timing couldn’t have been better as far as I was concerned. “Compliments of the gentlemen across the room,” he said, depositing the glasses on the table.
    “Oh?” Hilary craned her head to give our benefactors an appraising look. “Good Lord. What is it with men and goatees? They’re so 1995. And they weren’t even cool then.”
    “Could we tell them thanks but no thanks?” Emma asked. “And keep the drinks on our tab?”
    “Why would we want to turn down free drinks?” asked Hilary.
    “There’s no such thing as a free drink. If we accept, they’ll want to sit with us,” said Luisa. The waiter left to deliver the message, but Hilary continued her inspection of the room.
    “Of all the men here, only the goateed ones send us drinks. Why is that? I mean, check out the guy at the bar. How come guys like that never offer to buy us drinks?” she said. “In fact, I think he’s checking you out, Rach. Why isn’t he checking me out?”
    I followed her gaze, catching a glimpse of a man with close-cropped dark hair across the room. He stood out in the sea of navy suits, dressed in faded jeans, an oxford-cloth shirt and suede jacket. For a fleeting instant our eyes met, but then he looked down at the beer he was