flooded Susan’s eyes. The situation was crazy, absolutely insane. But life had a way of spinning out of balance, just as it had left her reeling the morning she woke up to find a dead man at her side. Charles had been eighty-three and a heart patient, so his passing in their second year of marriage hadn’t come as a complete surprise. But David—
She pulled a tissue from the gilded box on the nightstand, then picked up the phone and pressed the speed dial to ring her travel agent.
“Emma,” she said, dabbing at her eyes, “Susan Dodson here. I need a flight to Boston on Monday, and I need to be at an event by three. Can you make that work for me?”
Cocoa Beach
Mark stopped by Ken Cobb’s office and moved to the Peg-Board where dozens of silver keys shone like ornaments. The key he wanted, however, wasn’t on the board.
The service department manager looked up from his computer. “Morning, Mr. Morris. Can I help you?”
In no mood for small talk, Mark propped a hand on his hip. “I need to drive to Boston. I was thinking of taking the gold Benz we took in last week.”
Ken smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “That car’s being detailed as we speak—it’s been sold.”
“I didn’t realize we had put it on the lot.”
“We didn’t, actually—I bought it myself.” Ken stood and slipped his hands into his pockets. “It’s a beauty. Exactly the kind of vehicle I’ve been looking for.”
Mark studied his manager. Cobb was a good guy, hardworking and diligent, a stable provider for his attractive wife and four boys. Maybe he deserved a gold Mercedes . . . but he couldn’t have it yet.
Mark crossed his arms. “Filled out the title transfer already?”
“Not exactly.”
“Has your check cleared?”
Ken’s smile frayed around the edges. “Is something wrong? I was planning to pay book value plus a 5 percent markup, same as we usually charge employees.”
Mark waved Cobb’s concerns away. “You can have the car, Ken, but first I want to take it to Boston. A friend of mine passed away, and I need a reliable vehicle for the trip.”
Cobb’s brow creased. “With the cost of gas being what it is, you could probably fly cheaper—”
“Don’t want to fly. I need some time to think. Time to remember my friend.”
Cobb swallowed hard and reached for the phone. “I’ll have the guys finish up and park it in your spot.”
“Have them drive it around front.” Mark gestured toward the hall, where he’d propped his hastily packed bag. “I want to get on the road.”
Cobb rang the service bay, and Mark stepped out of the office, content to know he’d arrive at the funeral in a car sure to impress his friends. A trickle of glowing Christmas cards had assured him that the others had achieved their goals, and he would not go to Boston looking like the kind of guy who sold used cars at abandoned gas stations.
No, sir. He’d pull out all the stops and dazzle every one of them.
Manhattan
Guilt jabbed at Karyn like a splinter, inflicting an unexpected and painful prick at every attempt to move through her normal routine. Memories of David’s e-mails, his consistent invitations, and his Boy Scout nature nipped at her guilty heart until she decided to drop everything and make arrangements to attend his funeral.
She swiped at her eyes with a fresh tissue, then picked up the phone again. She had already spoken with her director, her agent, and her dance instructor. Now she needed to find someone to take care of Sarah.
After considering a short list of former nannies and housekeepers, she called Molly Hood, a friend from the Actor’s Studio. They’d kept in touch over the years, and even though Molly was starring as Amanda in The Glass Menagerie , Karyn was reasonably sure the woman wouldn’t mind serving as a temporary mom.
Molly made sympathetic sounds as she listened to Karyn’s predicament. “Of course I’ll keep an eye on Sarah. I have Mondays off, you
She pulled a tissue from the gilded box on the nightstand, then picked up the phone and pressed the speed dial to ring her travel agent.
“Emma,” she said, dabbing at her eyes, “Susan Dodson here. I need a flight to Boston on Monday, and I need to be at an event by three. Can you make that work for me?”
Cocoa Beach
Mark stopped by Ken Cobb’s office and moved to the Peg-Board where dozens of silver keys shone like ornaments. The key he wanted, however, wasn’t on the board.
The service department manager looked up from his computer. “Morning, Mr. Morris. Can I help you?”
In no mood for small talk, Mark propped a hand on his hip. “I need to drive to Boston. I was thinking of taking the gold Benz we took in last week.”
Ken smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “That car’s being detailed as we speak—it’s been sold.”
“I didn’t realize we had put it on the lot.”
“We didn’t, actually—I bought it myself.” Ken stood and slipped his hands into his pockets. “It’s a beauty. Exactly the kind of vehicle I’ve been looking for.”
Mark studied his manager. Cobb was a good guy, hardworking and diligent, a stable provider for his attractive wife and four boys. Maybe he deserved a gold Mercedes . . . but he couldn’t have it yet.
Mark crossed his arms. “Filled out the title transfer already?”
“Not exactly.”
“Has your check cleared?”
Ken’s smile frayed around the edges. “Is something wrong? I was planning to pay book value plus a 5 percent markup, same as we usually charge employees.”
Mark waved Cobb’s concerns away. “You can have the car, Ken, but first I want to take it to Boston. A friend of mine passed away, and I need a reliable vehicle for the trip.”
Cobb’s brow creased. “With the cost of gas being what it is, you could probably fly cheaper—”
“Don’t want to fly. I need some time to think. Time to remember my friend.”
Cobb swallowed hard and reached for the phone. “I’ll have the guys finish up and park it in your spot.”
“Have them drive it around front.” Mark gestured toward the hall, where he’d propped his hastily packed bag. “I want to get on the road.”
Cobb rang the service bay, and Mark stepped out of the office, content to know he’d arrive at the funeral in a car sure to impress his friends. A trickle of glowing Christmas cards had assured him that the others had achieved their goals, and he would not go to Boston looking like the kind of guy who sold used cars at abandoned gas stations.
No, sir. He’d pull out all the stops and dazzle every one of them.
Manhattan
Guilt jabbed at Karyn like a splinter, inflicting an unexpected and painful prick at every attempt to move through her normal routine. Memories of David’s e-mails, his consistent invitations, and his Boy Scout nature nipped at her guilty heart until she decided to drop everything and make arrangements to attend his funeral.
She swiped at her eyes with a fresh tissue, then picked up the phone again. She had already spoken with her director, her agent, and her dance instructor. Now she needed to find someone to take care of Sarah.
After considering a short list of former nannies and housekeepers, she called Molly Hood, a friend from the Actor’s Studio. They’d kept in touch over the years, and even though Molly was starring as Amanda in The Glass Menagerie , Karyn was reasonably sure the woman wouldn’t mind serving as a temporary mom.
Molly made sympathetic sounds as she listened to Karyn’s predicament. “Of course I’ll keep an eye on Sarah. I have Mondays off, you
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