Razor Sharp

by Fern Michaels

  Coffee and brandy was served in the living room in front of a blazing fire that Elias and Bert maintained. Outside the snow continued to fall. Soft music, golden oldies that no one objected to, played softly.

  Even though there were football games on the big screen via satellite, no one opted to watch them. All were content to sit and revel in the peaceful atmosphere with good friends.

  When Charles walked into the living room carrying a huge silver tray with two bottles of champagne, they all knew something interesting was about to happen. Myra, at his side, held an identical silver tray with exquisite cut-glass wine flutes.

  Nikki looked over at Jack and winked. The heirloom crystal flutes had appeared months ago, brought to the mountain by Nellie from Myra’s farmhouse. This, whatever this was, must really be important. Feeling a nudge to her shoulder, Nikki turned and wasn’t surprised when she heard a whisper in her ear.

  “This is Mummie’s big day, Nik. She’s finally going to do it.”

  “About time,” Nikki said under her breath. She risked a glance around the room, but no one seemed to be paying attention to the fact that Barbara’s spirit was in attendance.

  Charles uncorked the first bottle of champagne. They all watched the cork sail upward and then spiral down to land at Myra’s feet. The second cork went upward, spiraled down, and settled at Charles’s feet. The little group clapped their hands.

  “Nice going, Barb,” Nikki mumbled.

  “You should see what I can do when I put my mind to it,” the spirit giggled. “Shh, here it comes.”

  Charles cleared his throat. “I have an announcement to make. I’ve asked Myra to marry me, and she finally said yes. I asked her on bended knee in the snow at four-thirty this morning on the front porch. I hope you’re all as happy for us as we are for ourselves. So, let’s drink a toast to this happy couple.”

  Nikki wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw her spirit sister settle herself between her mother and father. Then again, maybe it was the smoke that suddenly billowed out of the fireplace before it was sucked back in and then straight up the chimney. “Nice going, Barb.”

  “Thanks, Nik. Give them both an earthly hug for me, okay?”

  “You got it!” Nikki untangled herself and got to her feet to accept her flute of champagne. To Charles and Myra, she whispered, “I have orders to give you both an earthly hug. One earthly hug coming up.” She wrapped her arms around Charles and Myra without spilling a drop of champagne.

  “She was here, wasn’t she?” Myra whispered.

  “Oh, yeah, she was here.” Nikki smiled. “She approves.”

  “I felt her right beside me,” Charles murmured.

  “She was between us, wasn’t she, Nikki?”

  “Smack dab in the middle. I am so happy for you both.”

  The little group started to sing “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” and then they switched to “She’s a Jolly Good Lady.” All off-key, but no one cared.

  Cushions and blankets appeared out of nowhere as the happy guests sprawled wherever there was room. No one noticed until later that Annie and Isabelle had left the living room and returned to the building where they lived.

  “I saw how unhappy you were, Isabelle. I know how you feel. I pretty much felt like a third wheel myself. Suddenly everyone became a couple. Don’t get me wrong, that’s a good thing. I don’t think anyone will miss us, at least not for a little while, and even then they’ll think we ate too much and are taking a nap. Everyone has a partner but you and me. I think we should do something about that, and I think we should do it right now!”

  “And that would be…what?” Isabelle asked tentatively.

  What indeed. “Well, you did tell me and the others on one or more occasions that you thought that guy in the Vegas casino was pretty hot. For a while after we got back to the mountain, I thought you were pining for him. You said you looked right into his eyes and liked what you saw. You know the guy I’m talking about, the one you socked in the eye! You even remembered his name. Stu Franklin. He said if you ever take a vacation you’d be able to find him on the beach in the Caymans. You said if we were ever pardoned, that was the first place you were going. You even asked Charles to have his people run a profile on him, and if I’m not mistaken, you have it in your possession.”

  Isabelle sighed. “All true, but that was then and this is now. How do you suppose one would go about finding someone on the beach in the Caymans, someone who is hiding out from the law?”

  Annie could feel herself getting into it. “I know people, Isabelle,” she said vaguely as her mind raced. “Listen, you’re an architect. Draw me a picture of him from memory. Do it now.”

  Isabelle ran to her room and returned with a sketch pad. Her drawing pencil moved swiftly, with sure, deft strokes. Ten minutes later she held up Stu Franklin’s likeness.

  Annie stared at the picture. “Damn, girl, the man looks hot!”

  “He was so hot, Annie, I felt like my eyebrows were on fire. How else do you think I was able to draw such a likeness? I wonder if he remembers me or his invitation. He probably has hundreds of beach bunnies running after him.”

  “Trust me, honey, he remembers you. He singled you out.” Annie wondered if what she was saying was true. “You’re beautiful, and he was helping you. He didn’t have to do what he did that day. I think it’s safe to say he meant every word he said.”

  Isabelle threw her hands in the air. “What good is this going to do for me except make me more sad that I’m alone?”

  “Not for long. Come on, put your jacket and boots on, and let’s go to the command center. I told you I know people.”

  Outside the snow was still falling. “Do you think it will ever stop, Annie?”

  “Oh, who cares? You need to be thinking of crashing waves, white sand, sultry breezes, and that…that guy on the beach. I wonder if anyone told him he’s safe from prosecution. See, that’s your…your reason for calling when we finally locate him. Even a lame reason is better than no reason, because he probably already knows, but there’s no way for you to know that he knows. Did that make sense?”

  “Well, yes, in a cockamamie way.”

  They were in the command center, and Annie was standing at Charles’s workstation. She took a deep breath, picked up one of Charles’s special encrypted phones. She dialed a number from memory and waited. Isabelle watched her and knew in her gut that whatever Annie was up to, she was going to pull it off. She walked off, sensing that Annie didn’t want her eavesdropping on her secret private conversation.

  “So, do you know who this is?” Annie said to the person who answered the phone.

  “Ah, Miss No Name. Just for the record, I’m wearing my magic decoder ring. That means our conversation is safe. Are you calling to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving?”

  “Among other things. Are you keeping your eyes on my half of our business, partner?”

  “24/7. Did you have your dinner yet?”

  “I did, and it was wonderful. I need a favor, and I need it now.”

  The voice on the other end of the line grumbled, “What is it with you women? You always want everything now. Since I’m three hours behind you, that means I have not had my dinner yet, and my now is not the same as your now with the time difference.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Annie snapped. “You’ll be eating turkey for a week anyway. I want you to find someone for me right away. You did say you were…well, what you said was you…”

  “The term you’re looking for is…connected. Which I am. All right, all right. What am I going to get out of this deal? If I decide your request is worthy of my expertise.”

  Annie swallowed hard. What would the girls say? What would Myra say? “Well, Mr. Fish, partner, you get me.” Oh God, did she really say that? Obviously she did, because Fish was sputtering on the other end of the phone. Annie listened. “Oh, get over yourself, Mr. Fish. Admit it, you don’t have a clue as to what to do with me. Not to worry—I’ll show you.” Oh God, di
d she say that, too? She blinked when she heard laughter on the other end. Annie listened again. “What do you mean when? It’s not like I’m free to come and go as I please. When you least expect it, I’ll be there.” Annie groaned inwardly. She rather thought there was a song with lyrics like that. She felt her face flame.

  “So, give me your fax number, and I’m going to send you a picture of the man I want you to find. Think in terms of rewards for a job well-done. The kind you never dreamed of, that’s what kind.” Annie squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was going to have to powwow with the girls to come up with rewards. Her whole body felt so hot she wanted to run out naked in the snow. Fish was still sputtering on the other end of the line.

  Annie slid the drawing into the fax machine and punched in the number Fish had managed to give her during his sputtering.

  “How long is this going to take?” Annie asked. “Did I also mention that I…we need the man’s cell-phone number, and we want a guarantee that he will answer it when we call? You can do that, can’t you, Fish?”

  More garbled words.

  “What? What? Are you saying you lied to me? You said you worked for some secret branch of the government no one ever heard of. You said you were a terrorist and a mercenary. I believed you, otherwise I wouldn’t have called you. Oh, I cannot believe I tumbled to your silver tongue. You can just forget those rewards.” She listened, her eyebrows shooting upward. “Well, that’s more like it. The rewards are back on the table. Of course I’ll wait for your call, where do you think I’m going to go? No, I’m not sending you a list of the rewards. Well, maybe I could send the first three.” Annie made kissing sounds into the phone before she broke the connection.

  “Isabelle!” Annie screeched at the top of her lungs.

  “Oh, no, your source said he couldn’t help. It’s all right, Annie. You tried, and I appreciate it. I guess it just isn’t meant to be.”

  “Shut up, Isabelle. It’s in the bag. In a few hours you will be talking to Mr. Franklin. It’s what I promised—to get the information for you.”

  “Oh, Annie, what did you promise? Are you saying you can’t deliver on your promise?”

  Annie told her. Isabelle blinked. Then she blinked again before she doubled over laughing. When she finally stopped laughing, she managed to gasp, “I think we can come up with a suitable list of rewards. We might even be able to come up with instructions. You do realize what the problem is, right?”

  “Oh God, what could be worse?” Annie groaned.

  Isabelle started to giggle and couldn’t stop. “Following through,” she finally managed to gasp.

  Annie sat down with a thump. “What should I wear?”

  “You aren’t getting it, Annie. Zip.”

  “But…”

  “A promise is a promise, Annie.”

  Annie rose to the occasion. “My dear, if you can make contact with Mr. Franklin, I can certainly honor my promise. YIPPEEEEE!”

  Four hours later, eastern standard time, Annie’s cell phone rang. She bolted upright from where she’d been dozing on the sofa. She gave Isabelle a shout to wake up where she, too, was dozing by the fire. “My phone is ringing. I think this call might be for you, honey.”

  Isabelle reached for the phone and said, “Hello, this is Isabelle.”

  “Well, Isabelle, this is Stu Franklin. There’s this guy standing here with a gun to my head, and he’s telling me to talk pretty to you. Not that anyone needs to tell me something like that. I’d appreciate it if you’d tell him he can leave us now so we can have a private conversation. I’m going to put him on the phone right now before he blows my head off.”

  Isabelle managed to squeak out, “Thank you for your help, sir. I appreciate you doing this for me on Thanksgiving. I hope I didn’t take you away from your dinner.” The voice on the other end of the phone mumbled something that sounded like he was glad he didn’t have to kill anyone on Thanksgiving. Isabelle was so light-headed she had to sit down.

  The voice was soft, cultured, intimate-sounding. “Somehow or other, Isabelle, I thought you would have gotten in touch with me in a more conventional way. But I admire your aggressiveness. I’m glad you called. Are you having a nice Thanksgiving?”

  “I did…I am…I was until…Oh, never mind. I didn’t spoil yours, did I?”

  “No. I just had a hot dog with all the trimmings on the beach. Did you have the whole enchilada, meaning a turkey with all the trimmings?”

  “I did. I love hot dogs with all the trimmings, too.”

  “I saw that picture you did of me. Pretty good. Are you an artist?”

  “No, I’m an architect. I feel…I feel kind of foolish and pushy right now. Maybe someday I can explain what made me…What I mean is…”

  “Just for the record, I would have gotten in touch, but I didn’t know how. I was hoping you might take me up on my offer one of these days.”

  “That’s kind of hard, but I’m working on it. We have two feet of snow where I am right now.”

  “It’s sunny and eighty degrees where I am. There’s not a ripple in the ocean, and it’s sapphire blue. There aren’t many people here right now, which is unusual. I guess the economy is as bad as they say it is.”

  “Has anyone told you that you’re free from prosecution? If not, you can come and go as you please. We…we took care of that for you.”

  The silence on the other end of the phone lasted so long Isabelle had to say, “Are you still there?”

  “I’m still here. No, I didn’t know that. Well, this is a wonderful Thanksgiving, after all. But how do I know it’s true?”

  “Because I tracked you down to tell you. I don’t lie. I think we might, I say might, be going to Washington soon.”

  “Is that an invitation? If it is, I accept.”

  “It is. If you give me your phone number, I can call you if it happens. You can call me anytime, but not on this number.” She rattled off a number that Stu Franklin said he memorized.

  “Let’s talk, Isabelle. I want to know what happened that day at the casino. I want to know all about you.”

  And so Isabelle told him while Annie pretended to snore lightly on the couch.

  If you love the Sisterhood series,

  but are wanting a non-Sisterhood “fix” from Fern Michaels,

  you are in luck!

  Her next stand-alone novel will be

  coming from Kensington in May 2010.

  Turn the page for a special preview of

  RETURN TO SENDER,

  the wonderful new bestseller by Fern Michaels.

  Prologue

  January 13, 1989

  Dalton, Georgia

  Rosalind Townsend, whom everyone called Lin, held her newborn son tightly in her arms as the orderly wheeled her to the hospital’s administration office. A nurse tried to take him from her so she could tend to the business of her release, but she refused to give him up.

  After eighteen hours of agonizing labor without any medication, she’d delivered a healthy six-pound eight-ounce baby boy. She wasn’t about to let him out of her sight.

  She’d named him William Michael Townsend. A good, solid name. She would call him Will.

  Like his father’s, Will’s hair was a deep black, so dark it appeared to be blue. Lin wasn’t sure about his eyes at this point. She’d read in her baby book that a newborn’s eye color wasn’t true at birth. Nothing about him resembled her, as she was fair-haired with unusual silver-colored eyes and milk white skin.

  She gazed down at the securely wrapped bundle in her arms and ran her thumb across his delicate cheek. Soft as silk. He yawned, revealing tender, pink gums. Lin smiled down at her son. No matter what her circumstances, she made a vow to herself: she would devote her life to caring for this precious little child.

  Lin had spent the past seven months preparing for this day. During the day she worked at J & G Carpet Mills as a secretary. Five evenings a week and weekend mornings, she waited tables at Jack’s Diner. Other than what it cost f
or rent, food, and utilities, Lin saved every cent she made. She had to be conservative, because it was just her and Will. She’d allowed herself a week off from both jobs so she could bond with her son, adjust to her new life as a mother. While she would’ve loved spending more time with her son, being the sole caregiver and provider made that impossible. She’d lucked out when Sally, a coworker at Jack’s and a single mother to boot, had asked her if she would sit for her two-year-old daughter, Lizzie. In return, Sally would look after the baby on the days that she wasn’t working. Lin had agreed because she had to. There were still the days to cover, but Sally gave her a list of reliable sitters she’d used in the past. Dear Sally. Only five years older than Lin but so much wiser to the ways of the world. They were fast becoming good friends. Sally was the complete opposite of Lin—tall, olive-skinned, with beautiful brown eyes that had a slight upward slant, giving her an Asian look. Lin had called three of the sitters: two high-school girls and one elderly woman. She would meet with them later in the week. Lin was sure that if Sally approved, she would as well.

  Sadly, there would be no help from Will’s father or her parents. Lin recalled her father’s cruel words when he learned she was pregnant.

  “May you burn in hell, you little harlot! You’ve disgraced my good name. Get out of my house. I don’t ever want to lay eyes on you again or your bastard child!”

  Lin had appealed to her mother in the hope she would intervene, but, as usual, her mother had cowered behind her father, accepting his word as law. Lin would never allow a man to intimidate her the way her father did her mother.

  Never.

  “Miss?”

  Lin directed her attention back to the woman behind the administration desk. “Yes?”

  “If you’ll sign here and initial here.” The woman slid a single sheet of paper across the desk.

  Lin signed the paper, releasing the hospital from any liability. Since she had no health insurance and refused public assistance, she could only afford to stay in the hospital for twenty-four hours. She’d spend the next two years paying a hundred dollars a month until her debt was paid in full.