From time to time she would drape herself in one of his shirts or sweaters just to smell his scent and to feel him near. Today would be one of those times. Compelled as she was by her dreams, her need to feel close to him won out over her need to hurry, and she buried her nose in a navy blue hooded sweatshirt hanging on the rack. Breathing in the lingering trace of his rugged masculinity brought him vividly to her mind. She could not help herself—she still missed his crooked smile, the warmth of his strong arms wrapped around her and how glorious he made her feel when they made sweet love.
Emily pulled it off the hanger and shrugged it on, hoping for some emotional comfort. Then she zipped it up and stuck her hands in the pockets, surprised to feel the crackling of paper in one of them. She pulled out a small folded note. Her curiosity piqued, she opened it. In blue ink, the name Delia and a phone number was scrawled in the cursive penmanship of a woman.
Who is Delia? She frowned at the note. Was she a client, an informant, a friend? A lover? As fast as the thought about this female possibly being Evan’s lover popped into her head, she pushed it right out again. She’d always had complete trust in him. They had been absolutely happy, until the horrible night he was killed. He’d never given her any reason to suspect he had ever been unfaithful to her. I’m just being silly.
Her cell phone beeped a reminder and she realized she had spent far too long wallowing in Evan’s clothes. Now she really needed to hurry and get dressed for the lunch date with her girlfriends. They were celebrating five years from the day they all first met and began what had grown into a close circle of friends. If she was late, they’d never let her hear the end of it.
She grabbed a pair of white slacks that she knew would show off her slim figure and added a silk turquoise blouse that everyone said set off her dazzling greenish-blue eyes and her head of tousled honey-blonde curls. Emily stepped into her trendy Espadrilles, grabbed her oversized leather purse, and flew out the door.
The girls had chosen the Blue Moon Café—the current hotspot in Paradise Valley—because of the nouveau-gourmet menu and outdoor patio with a breathtaking view of the river. Emily pulled her white Volvo sedan into the crowded parking lot. As she approached the front door, she spotted her party seated under a large blue umbrella at a table on the patio. It was a good choice. They could enjoy the breezy spring air and the sound of the rushing water flowing by while they toasted their anniversary.
Emily made her way through the bustling restaurant, lively with laughter and conversation, and as she stepped out onto the sunny patio, the girls were chatting away. “Hello, ladies.” She eased the empty chair out and tucked herself into the group.
“Emily, you’re late,” Camille Hawthorne pointed out. Camille was like a mother hen to the girls, being a bit older than the others, having a daughter in high school and a son in college. Her looks would not give her age away, though, and she wore her fiery red hair in a cropped and spiky style. But her husband, Jonathan, a sales executive for a local corporation, was the only one who could get away with calling her Red.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I got a little distracted and lost track of the time,” Emily apologized as she scooted her chair closer to the table.
“We were just concerned, Em. You’re never late,” Isabel Martinez added, tossing her long dark curls over her shoulder. As an FBI financial analyst, Isabel was matter-of-fact and to the point. Usually dressed in a business suit, she appeared relaxed in her jeans and designer t-shirt.
“Well, all y’all know, I’m the one who’s always late,” Maggie Sullivan admitted in her fading Texas accent, twirling a strand of long blonde hair around her finger. Truthfully, Maggie had a bad habit of being late for almost everything, except for appointments with her clients. As a fitness trainer, she was obsessive when it came to two things—her looks and her business. Emily always thought she resembled a blonde Barbie doll.
“You said it, not me,” Isabel replied to Maggie, while looking over the menu.
“Is everything all right?” Camille leaned over and asked Emily in her caring, maternal way.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Emily placed her napkin in her lap. “I was standing in my closet trying to decide what to wear and—”
“Yes, I’ve been known to stand there for half an hour trying to figure out what to put on,” Camille interrupted.
“Well, it wasn’t just that.” Emily’s gaze lowered briefly. “I couldn’t make up my mind so my eyes wandered over to Evan’s clothes hanging there, calling to me. I just had this overwhelming desire to be close to him.”
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s understandable.” Camille grabbed hold of Emily’s hand, giving it a light squeeze.
“It probably sounds silly,” Emily turned to Camille, “but I smelled one of his sweatshirts and it brought a rush of memories back. So I put it on. The lingering scent of his clothes—it’s like he’s still there with me. I miss him so much, Cam.” She felt herself being pulled back into the moment and her hand fluttered to her chest as her eyes gazed out over the water. “It made me remember how I felt when he held me, when he kissed me...when he made love to me.”
“Oh my, Emily!” Camille giggled nervously, fanning herself with her napkin, as her face warmed to the tones in her red hair.
“The time just slipped away,” Emily said apologetically. Coming back to the present, she looked down at her menu, a blush of embarrassment heating her cheeks.
“You’ll never get over him if you don’t start letting go. It’s been six months, hon. Don’t you think you should start packing up his things so you can at least begin to move on with your life?” Camille asked. “Evan was a wonderful man, Em, really he was, but he’s been gone for a while now. You’re still here and you deserve to be happy.” Camille looked around the table for support. “Don’t you agree, girls?”
“Yes, Em,” Maggie agreed, “it is time you start havin’ some fun again, girl.”
“Maybe she’s not ready.” Isabel came to Emily’s defense. “Six months isn’t that long, really.”
Emily looked over at Isabel and gave her a smile of appreciation. “What I’m ready for is food.” She was also ready to change the subject. Her gaze flew around the busy patio. “Where’s our waitress?”
A young woman appeared at their table just in time to rescue her, pad and pen in hand. “Hi, I’m Katie. What can I get for you ladies?”
“I’ll have the sea bass.” Emily jumped in first.
“That sounds good,” Camille agreed, closing her menu and looking up at the young woman. “How is that prepared?”
“Uh, sautéed, I think,” she replied sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m new here.”
“Don’t pay any attention to her,” Isabel said to the waitress, frowning at her fiery-haired friend. “She’s a chef. Can you tell? I’m sure however it’s cooked will be fine.”
“I guess you’re right, Isabel,” Camille conceded. “I will have the sea bass.”
“Just a garden salad for me, please, Balsamic vinaigrette on the side,” Maggie ordered. “I have to watch my girlish figure, y’ know.” She patted her flat tummy.
At thirty-six, Maggie was obviously proud that she still possessed the slender figure she’d had when she was a twenty-two-year-old starlet in Hollywood. As a young single mother, she had moved there from Texas with her little boy, trying to get her big break. Unfortunately, her big break never materialized. So, leaving her deadbeat husband behind, she and her son moved north to Idaho, where her brother and his family lived. She’d worked hard, learned all she could about fitness and training, eventually opening her own business as a personal trainer.
“Hmmm,” Isabel tapped her finger against her lips. “I’ll have the Kobe beef burger, and I’d like the seasoned oven fries with that.”
“Isabel, that’s a ton of fat and calories,” Maggie pointed out.
“I know, but it tastes so good. Besides, I ordered it just to bug you,” Isabel teased.
Maggie grimaced. Isabel carried a few
extra pounds and often promised Maggie she’d work to take them off when she had time, but she never seemed to find the time.
“You are what you eat, Isabel,” Maggie told her for the thousandth time.
“Well, maybe I should eat a skinny person, then.” Isabel flashed a mischievous smile. “But I don’t see that on the menu.”
“There’s just no point talkin’ to you about it.” Maggie rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“Exactly.”
The waitress collected the menus. “Thank you, ladies. I’ll be back shortly with your food.”
Emily took a sip of her ice water. “So, what’s new in your world, Camille?”
“Oh, I have the most exciting news!” Her face lit up and her hands flitted about. “You know that big candle business that’s expanding and building all those new warehouses and offices down by the railroad tracks?”
“You mean Heaven Scent?” Isabel offered.
“Yes, that one. They’re also expanding into a new line of bath products and they’re having a big launch party. Guess who they hired to plan and cater the event?” Camille wore a smug grin.
“Hmmm, let me think.” Isabel tapped her chin mockingly.
“Me, you silly.” Camille patted Isabel’s arm. “Oh, I’m so thrilled!”
“Wow, that’s a big job. Kudos,” Maggie said.
“Yes, Camille, that’s fantastic,” Emily chimed in. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you all. It’s going to be fabulous.” Camille declared, smiling broadly. “But enough about me, what’s going on with the rest of you?” She glanced from face to face.
“I’m happy to report my fitness trainin’ business is goin’ well. Oh, and I just have to tell y’all that I have the most gorgeous, delicious new client. He’s tall, dark and oh-so-handsome,” Maggie gushed.
“Sounds like you’d like him to be more than a client, Maggie.” Isabel raised a questioning brow.
“Maybe.” She giggled.
“He’s not married, is he?” Isabel asked suspiciously
“I don’t think so. He doesn’t wear a wedding ring and he hasn’t mentioned a wife.”
“It’s best to make sure, Maggie, before you start getting all dreamy over him,” Camille warned.
“Yes, Mama,” Maggie deferred sarcastically.
“Well, I’m working on a big case,” Isabel said. “Do you remember the man who was arrested for killing that family in eastern Oregon, George Semanski? The FBI is building a case against him, and he’ll be going to trial in a few months. I’m headed out of town in the next few weeks as part of the work I’m doing on it.”
“Oh my gosh, Isabel,” Maggie exclaimed.
“Why is the FBI involved?” Emily questioned.
“Because after killing the family, Semanski kidnapped the neighbor’s kid—or I should say he allegedly kidnapped the neighbor’s kid—who happened to be at the house during the murders and took him across state lines, which makes it an FBI matter,” Isabel explained.
“That makes sense.” Maggie nodded.
“What about you, Emily?” Camille asked.
“Me? I guess my real estate business is doing okay.” The word okay carried a hint of uncertainty.
“Not great?” Camille asked, sticking out her bottom lip sympathetically.
“More like limping along,” Emily answered. “I have a young couple I’ll be showing homes to later this afternoon. I’m really hoping they buy today, because Lord knows I could certainly use the commission right now. A couple of my deals are set to close in the next few weeks—fingers crossed—but there are not nearly as many as there use to be.”
“Are you still paying the lease on Evan’s old office?” Isabel asked.
“Yes, I’m on the hook for another year, unfortunately. And because it is such an old building, subleasing is almost impossible. The building is practically vacant as it is.”
“Ouch,” Isabel responded.
The server returned with a plate in each hand and another server followed with the rest of the food, setting the plates down in front of each of the women.
“Mmmm, it smells delicious.” Isabel took a whiff of her burger and fries.
“Yes, it does, and everything looks great too. Thank you, miss,” Camille told the young waitress.
“I’ll be back to check on you ladies a little later. Enjoy.” Katie moved on to another table.
As soon as she left, Emily gently clinked her knife against her water glass a few times to bring her friends’ attention to her.
“First, before we dig into our lunches, I want to say thank you all for picking this lovely restaurant for our celebration. I’m so enjoying the sunshine and the river view,” Emily began, and all the other women nodded their agreement.
“Secondly, in honor of celebrating the five-year anniversary of the day we met and began our friendship, I would like to make a toast.” Emily raised her glass. The other women picked up their glasses, as well. “I want thank each of you for being there for me when I needed you most this last year, after Evan died, and for us all being there for each other through the ups and downs of our lives. You are the best friends any woman could have, and I love you all!”
“Here’s to all of us!” Camille chimed in and they all took a sip of their drinks. “Thank you, Emily. That was so sweet.” She patted Emily on the leg. “Now girls, why don’t we take a walk down memory lane?”
“What do you mean?” Emily asked, as she picked up her fork to dig into her fish.
“It’s been a long time since the special day we’re honoring today. I thought it would be fun to talk about it. Do you girls remember that day we first met?” Camille glanced around the table. “And why you were there?”
“Of course,” Isabel answered, munching on one of her oven fries. “You were holding a cooking class at your catering shop and we came to learn how to cook.”
“You were all such newbies,” Camille chuckled, picking up a forkful of sea bass. She had just opened her catering and event-planning business in a small warehouse space and had offered a series of cooking classes to start bringing in money and to meet potential new clients. Her idea worked brilliantly and it pushed her business forward to success. Those classes also brought this circle of women together and they had grown to become best friends.
“I remember that I took the class to learn how to cook somethin’ other than my mama’s down-home recipes,” Maggie recalled, sprinkling a little dressing on her salad. “I had hopes of impressin’ and snaggin’ me a successful man, but it hasn’t quite worked out that way.” Maggie offered a mock pout. She was still single, much to her chagrin. But her little boy was now grown and had recently enlisted in the navy, and she was financially independent and providing for just herself.
“Evan and I were newly married,” Emily recalled, “and I wanted to learn to cook for his sake. I was the worst cook ever, and you really helped me, Camille. Of course, I was so bad it wouldn’t have taken much to make me better,” Emily admitted, which drew laughter from the girls.
“And what about you, Isabel?” Camille asked.
Isabel set her burger down and cleared her throat while she wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Alex wanted me to take the class. He loves to cook and he’s quite good at it. With him being a lawyer and me working at the FBI, we both work pretty long hours. I took the class for him, so we could have fun cooking and creating dishes together on the weekends. It’s hard to believe it was five years,” she patted her tummy, “and fifteen pounds ago.” A nervous giggle escaped her lips.
“Hey, wasn’t there another woman in that first class with us?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, Abby something?” Emily said.
“Abby Randall,” Isabel replied. Her memory was sharp and clear. As a financial analyst, she had a habit of paying close attention to details.
“Yes, poor Abby,” Camille said.
“What do you mean, poor Abby?” Emily and Maggie said in unison, then turned and grinned at ea
ch other.
“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Camille sat up straight and leaned forward.
“Heard what?” Maggie’s interest appeared to be piqued, obviously expecting a tidbit of juicy gossip.
“Now, don’t tell anyone you heard it from me, but she and Bob are getting a divorce.” Camille leaned back a little, as if to let the information sink in.
“Divorced? Abby and Bob always seemed so happy,” Emily commented. “I ran into them a few times around town, at a restaurant or at the store. They seemed like things were going well. I wonder what happened.”
“Well, I’m not one to gossip, but I ran into her one day at the mall and we chatted for a few minutes,” Camille explained, picking at her sea bass. “Abby had taken classes from me several times, so I probably knew her better than any of you. She told me she thought they were blissfully happy and everything was going along beautifully. They have three children, you know, a nice home, and lots of friends—she said their life was perfect. Then one day, out of the blue, Bob told her he had fallen in love with another woman and he wanted a divorce. I’m sure it just broke that poor woman’s heart.”
“How can that happen?” Emily asked. “I mean, how can you think everything is perfect, and then out of the blue your husband doesn’t love you anymore?” At the mention of another woman, her mind went to the note she’d found in Evan’s pocket just an hour or so earlier. She shook her head to get rid of her burning desire to know who Delia could be.
“Abby said he traveled a lot for work, so he obviously did whatever he wanted to while he was away,” Camille surmised, “and then pretended to be the perfect husband and father while he was home. I guess he just got tired of pretending.”
She paused and her expression became sullen. “Now that I think about it, my Jonathan travels a lot for work too. You girls don’t think that could happen to us, do you?” Camille’s upbeat and carefree tone turned serious and she sounded genuinely worried.
“No, Camille,” Maggie replied, putting her hand over Camille’s. “You need to stop talkin’ like that.”
“My word, you and Jonathan are perfect together. I don’t believe for a moment he would do that to you, or your children,” Isabel told her. “Please, Camille, just kick that horrible thought out of your head right now.”
The Heart of Lies, A Paradise Valley Mystery: Book Two Page 22