Music from the song “Promises, Promises” echoed from Kelly’s purse. She dug inside to find her phone, snagged it and answered breathlessly. “Michael?”
“Hi, sweetheart. You miss me?”
“Desperately. I found out that I’ll be home Monday. I’m sorry about the reunion.”
“I miss you, too, but stay and do what you need to do. The sooner that jerk is in jail, the better. Oh, Derek Carpenter sends his regards. He dropped by to pick up Maggie.”
“Tell him hi, and anyone else who comes in that I miss.”
“I just called to tell you g’night. And that I love you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
A word about the author...
With a rampant imagination aided and abetted by a Muse who runs with scissors, Silver James loves to share the stories created in that vast comic void pretending to be her mind. Over the course of her lifetime, she's been a military officer's wife, mother, state appellate court marshal, airport rescue firefighter and forensic fire photographer, crime analyst, technical crime scene investigator, and writer. Retired from the “real world” now, she lives in Oklahoma and spends her days at the computer with her two Newfoundland dogs, the cat who rules them all, and myriad characters all clamoring for attention.
To find out more about Silver, visit her at
www.silverjames.com
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Promises, Promises (Class of '85) Page 7