Read Online Vanishing Point (Circle of Spies Novella) by Laura Pauling - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Pauling
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powdered sugar and freshly sliced oranges. She’d been home for only a day and hadn’t stepped out of her fluffy pink bathrobe. Well, maybe a few times.
“Mornin’ beautiful.” Stephen smiled. His hair was mussed. His socks inside out. And his belly hung over the waistband of his man jammies.
Marisa rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him.
He kissed the top of her head. “You should go away on scrapbooking weekends more often.”
Savvy entered, her long hair in a ponytail. “Yeah, Mom. What was up with that?”
“Good morning, Savvy.” Marisa pulled away from her husband to serve up breakfast. “Did you have fun with your friends this weekend?”
“Yeah, sure.” Savvy grabbed a piece of toast from the platter and took a bite.
Marisa’s phone rang. Her stomach flip-flopped as she picked it up off the top of the microwave. “Hello?”
“Why hello. Look who just can’t help but be the hero. It runs through your veins, Ms. DeWilflower.”
“Why, Susanna, I agree! It was a terrific weekend!” Marisa slammed the platter of toast onto the table and flashed a weak smile to her family. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered with her hand over the phone the moved into the living room.
“Oh, don’t worry I won’t keep you long,” Will said. “I’m just passing on some info. The apartment in Paris is yours. The papers will arrive soon. Hide them somewhere safe. It will be your home base of future European operations.”
Marisa interrupted, her voice a bit higher than usual. “I’d love to get together and chat. I have some questions about the weekend.”
“You don’t need to know anything more.” Will spoke fast.
“Mom! It’s getting cold. Come on!”
“You have yet another fan on the look out for the mysterious Ms. DeWilflower.”
“Listen,” Marisa spoke low and forcefully, “we need to talk. I need answers. And we need to set up some parameters of what I will and will not do.”
Will turned on her. “Make no mistake, Marisa. This isn’t optional.”
Marisa sank into an armchair. The small upright piano stood against the wall. As a child, Savvy would practice for hours. She could hear her daughter plunking out Three Blind Mice over and over again. Her eyes rested on the coffee table where they battled out their word skills with Boggle and Scrabble.
“Fine. I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Will hung up.
Marisa headed back into the kitchen, and her family. Her husband and daughter who meant everything to her. And she’d do anything to protect them.
Anything.
Ten
For the first time in months, Marisa felt almost relaxed. The window was down, and spring was in the air. The wind rushed through the car and blew her hair around in a mad dance. Savvy sat in the passenger seat, tapping her fingers against the dashboard in tune with the beat of some song on the radio.
Marisa turned her eyes back on the road. Maybe, just maybe, Will wouldn’t call again. She hadn’t heard a peep from him in months. Even though, on returning from Paris, she’d gone a bit nuts with more self-defense classes, secret scrapbooking sessions, and evenings hunched over her computer typing out the backstory for Beatrice DeWilflower. Next time, she’d be prepared.
After the extremely disconcerting escapades in Paris, Marisa arrived home most exhausted. But more importantly, she had a deeper appreciation for her family. She might not live the lies she told her family about the glamorous life of being a scrapbooker, but every moment, every memory with them, she tucked away into her heart.
They pulled into a diner and found a seat on the patio. Fifties music blared from an outside speaker. Once their drinks and sandwiches were ordered, Marisa leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes to appreciate the warmth of the sun on her face.
“Hey, mom?” Savvy asked.
“What, honey.”
“Can we talk about my birthday?”
Birthday?
“Mornin’ beautiful.” Stephen smiled. His hair was mussed. His socks inside out. And his belly hung over the waistband of his man jammies.
Marisa rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him.
He kissed the top of her head. “You should go away on scrapbooking weekends more often.”
Savvy entered, her long hair in a ponytail. “Yeah, Mom. What was up with that?”
“Good morning, Savvy.” Marisa pulled away from her husband to serve up breakfast. “Did you have fun with your friends this weekend?”
“Yeah, sure.” Savvy grabbed a piece of toast from the platter and took a bite.
Marisa’s phone rang. Her stomach flip-flopped as she picked it up off the top of the microwave. “Hello?”
“Why hello. Look who just can’t help but be the hero. It runs through your veins, Ms. DeWilflower.”
“Why, Susanna, I agree! It was a terrific weekend!” Marisa slammed the platter of toast onto the table and flashed a weak smile to her family. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered with her hand over the phone the moved into the living room.
“Oh, don’t worry I won’t keep you long,” Will said. “I’m just passing on some info. The apartment in Paris is yours. The papers will arrive soon. Hide them somewhere safe. It will be your home base of future European operations.”
Marisa interrupted, her voice a bit higher than usual. “I’d love to get together and chat. I have some questions about the weekend.”
“You don’t need to know anything more.” Will spoke fast.
“Mom! It’s getting cold. Come on!”
“You have yet another fan on the look out for the mysterious Ms. DeWilflower.”
“Listen,” Marisa spoke low and forcefully, “we need to talk. I need answers. And we need to set up some parameters of what I will and will not do.”
Will turned on her. “Make no mistake, Marisa. This isn’t optional.”
Marisa sank into an armchair. The small upright piano stood against the wall. As a child, Savvy would practice for hours. She could hear her daughter plunking out Three Blind Mice over and over again. Her eyes rested on the coffee table where they battled out their word skills with Boggle and Scrabble.
“Fine. I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll be in touch.” Will hung up.
Marisa headed back into the kitchen, and her family. Her husband and daughter who meant everything to her. And she’d do anything to protect them.
Anything.
Ten
For the first time in months, Marisa felt almost relaxed. The window was down, and spring was in the air. The wind rushed through the car and blew her hair around in a mad dance. Savvy sat in the passenger seat, tapping her fingers against the dashboard in tune with the beat of some song on the radio.
Marisa turned her eyes back on the road. Maybe, just maybe, Will wouldn’t call again. She hadn’t heard a peep from him in months. Even though, on returning from Paris, she’d gone a bit nuts with more self-defense classes, secret scrapbooking sessions, and evenings hunched over her computer typing out the backstory for Beatrice DeWilflower. Next time, she’d be prepared.
After the extremely disconcerting escapades in Paris, Marisa arrived home most exhausted. But more importantly, she had a deeper appreciation for her family. She might not live the lies she told her family about the glamorous life of being a scrapbooker, but every moment, every memory with them, she tucked away into her heart.
They pulled into a diner and found a seat on the patio. Fifties music blared from an outside speaker. Once their drinks and sandwiches were ordered, Marisa leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes to appreciate the warmth of the sun on her face.
“Hey, mom?” Savvy asked.
“What, honey.”
“Can we talk about my birthday?”
Birthday?
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