“See you in a few.”
I put the plat back in the binder and did a few other minor things. My last task was to check my in-box one last time.
I found an urgent message forwarded through eBay from Tiara64. Scary thing about that was it meant there were probably sixty-three other people who wanted “tiara” in their name. At any rate, she was the high bidder on all the pageant jewelry, but she had a rather strange request. My seller profile listed me as living in Palm Beach County; she said since she was in nearby Lake Worth, she’d like to pick the items up personally when the auction ended on Sunday.
I thought about it for a minute, then decided it made things easier for me, so why not? I replied to her and received an instant response. She didn’t want to wait for me; she wanted the items at the moment the auction ended at noon. Only problem with that? I wouldn’t be back from Atlanta, so I sent her another e-mail letting her know that wasn’t possible.
Then this pageant junkie tells me she’ll pay an additional one hundred dollars per item if I get them to her by one p.m. That’s five hundred extra dollars. That’s a pair of Manolo Blahniks, and not from Nordy’s Rack, either. We’re talking walk into the store and select that perfect shoe. No way was I going to turn down this gift horse.
I couldn’t be in two places at once, but I had a solution. Carrying my super-cute pink bowling bag-style purse with me, I headed for the elevator. The purse was, if I did say so myself, a stunning replica of a classic zip-top Chanel bag. The white lamb’s wool morphed from white to black at the bottom, but unless you inspected it up close and personal, you’d never notice the uneven stitching.
I’d picked it up at a flea market for under a hundred dollars about a month before the man with the stand was arrested for selling counterfeit goods.
It went nicely with my Muse houndstooth ponte knit sheath dress. The dress normally retailed for about one sixty, but I’d gotten it half off because the back zipper was broken. An easy twenty-dollar repair for my trusty dry cleaner. I wasn’t so sure I loved the faux-leather belt with the oversized studs, but it did give the dress an edgy, trendy look. I’d completed my ensemble with a darling pair of Betsey Johnson stilettos that were a mix of patent leather and pleated satin. The four-inch heel would make traversing airports a bit of a pain—literally—but achieving the overall look made it all worth it. Besides, my mother would be at the other end of the flight, so the last thing I wanted to do was show up looking like something a cat spewed on a carpet.
My heels clicked as I passed the executive sentry, who seemed quite discombobulated when I failed to follow protocol and announce myself.
I found Becky seated in Ellen’s red leather chair, an empty wastebasket perched in her lap.
“Any luck?” I asked.
“Cleaning people,” she explained. “I’ve been through this office with a fine-tooth comb.”
“Desk and credenza?” I asked.
“All but the two locked drawers.”
Reaching into my purse, I retrieved a nail file as I came around the desk.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Becky asked.
“Do you have the key?”
“No.”
“Then can you think of another way to get inside here?”
“This desk is private property.”
I glared at my friend. “Isn’t there some sort of law that addresses abandoned property? You’ve made a few zillion attempts to get in touch with her. Who knows? Could be there’s some pressing Dane-Lieberman stuff in these drawers.”
“Or Ellen just keeps a few private items in her desk,” Becky countered skeptically.
It took me three tries, but I managed to jimmy the lock. A neat row of hanging folders held labels for such mundane things as STORAGE, BANKING, HEALTH INSURANCE, VEHICLE INSURANCE, etc. “How boring,” I mumbled. “Move,” I told Becky, then replaced her in Ellen’s chair.
The lock on the thin top drawer was a little more difficult to open. While I finally managed to twist the lock, in doing so, I also chipped a big hunk out of my favorite Barton’s nail file with the cute Swarovski crystal flower on the end. “Damn.”
The nail file did not die in vain. There, sitting on top of a set of unmarked keys, was the envelope I’d seen a week ago. “Got it!” I quickly blew into the folds of the paper, only to discover the contents missing. Flipping it over, I read the partial address. “… tment of Corrections.” The rest of the address had been obliterated by a Sharpie. “There was more the other day.”
“More what?” Becky asked as I handed her the envelope.
“More to the address. A few letters of the actual name of the department.”
“So you remember it?”
I closed my eyes, hoping I could focus on the memory. “All I can remember is N-A.”
“Can we do an Internet search with that?” Becky asked. “I mean, how many departments of correction can there be?”
“One for each state and one for each county.”
Becky frowned. “How many counties are there, do you think?”
“Three thousand one hundred forty,” I answered. Becky looked at me as if I’d just recited the Bible by rote. “It was one of the questions when Izzy and I played Trivial Pursuit.”
“I guess that makes an Internet search kinda tough.”
“Yeah, it’s not like hangman.” I glanced at my watch. “Sorry, but I have to go. By the way, would you mind doing me a favor on Sunday?”
“Sure, what?”
“There’s a lady coming to my place to pick up some items I sold on eBay.” I considered telling Becky where I’d gotten them but decided now wasn’t a good time. “I’ll send you a text with the amount she owes.”
“You want me to meet some loon from an online auction? What if she’s some sort of mass murderer?”
I laughed. “With a screen name like ‘Tiara64’? I think you’ll be safe from a beauty pageant junkie.”
“What time?”
“One o’clock. I’ll leave the stuff on the counter. All you have to do is take her cash and give her five items I’ll put in a velvet jewelry bag.”
“Can I do the transaction on the porch, or do I have to let her in?”
“Do it in the street for all I care.”
Becky met my eyes. “Are you that hard up for money? I can—”
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “This is a sale of opportunity, not necessity.”
She hugged me. “Have a great time in Atlanta.”
I cringed. “That’s kinda like telling me to enjoy my own execution.”
It took me two suitcases to fly to Atlanta for a long weekend. In my defense, I had to pack my maid-of-honor gown, and that alone took up half of the first bag. Then I had the substitute little black dress, plus three casual outfits and my return-flight ensemble. I'm a firm believer that if you dress well to fly, you get better service.
The second bag was smaller, and it was full of hair, makeup, shoes, purses, and other accessories. That I blamed on the strict TSA rules regarding liquids. Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. I’d never been one for lugging my own bag onto a plane and forcing it into the overhead compartment. When I traveled, I wanted my own stuff, not those complimentary bottles, even if they were from one of the best hotels in the world.
Carrying only my purse and a tote with my laptop, I cleared security and went directly to the Starbucks at the entrance to the gate area. Taking a seat near my departure area, I took a sip of my frappe, and then dug the cloisonné compact Jane had given me for my birthday out of my bag. There was still a little redness around the injury at my hairline but nothing I couldn’t tackle with some concealer. I wouldn’t have to worry about how it would look for the wedding. There would be stylists available who could easily make it invisible.
My cell rang, and when I glanced at the caller ID, I smiled. Right on time.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Are you at the airport?”
“Of course.”
“Don�
��t sound so impressed with yourself,” she warned. “Remember Great-aunt Mary’s funeral.”
Even though a decade had passed, I was still doing penance for missing my flight and the viewing. I think it was a subconscious thing. I was nineteen and didn’t want to view a dead body. “I remember, and I also recall apologizing a few zillion times.”
“Yes, but it still reflected badly on me.”
“I’m sorry I was late for Great-aunt Mary’s funeral.”
“Did you pack your dress?”
“Yes, though asking me now might not have been the best plan.”
“No, the poor planning was your decision not to ship it to the hotel so it could be properly steamed.”
“I’m sure the Ritz can properly steam my dress between tonight and Saturday.”
“Well, worrying about your dress is one more headache Lisa doesn’t need.”
I doubted my sister was stressing about the dress. She was probably still trying to remember how to walk in heels. But when it came to Cassidy Presley Tanner Rossi Browning, I picked my battles. Not that I ever won any of them, but placating her was the safest route. “I’ll apologize to her as soon as I see her.”
“So now you want her to stop tending to details to listen to you say you’re sorry?”
No, now I wanted to stick a pencil in my eye. “I’ll send her a text.”
“Really, Finley. Electronic apologies do not replace an appropriately sincere note.”
I wasn’t going to win this one. Not even close. “Mom, I hate to cut you off, but I need to step into the powder room before they call my flight.”
“Fine. I’ll see you for dinner at eight o’clock. The Atlanta Grille. Do try to be on time.”
I downed my frappe and went to the ladies’ room to fix my lipstick. While I was there, I brushed my hair and touched up my blush as well. The flight to Atlanta was less than two hours, but I still wanted to log in to the airport Wi-Fi to check my eBay auctions.
As I expected, Tiara64 was the high bidder on the pins, the bracelet, and the earrings. I couldn’t help but smile, knowing I’d be getting the auction price plus an additional five hundred dollars. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting costume jewelry so badly. I sent her an e-mail, telling her that I would contact her with my address at the end of the auction and that she could pick up the items around one.
She instantly zinged back a positive response. “Do you live on eBay?” I wondered aloud.
My flight was called, and I powered down my laptop and placed it in my tote. Because I was flying business class, I was allowed to board before the masses.
I settled into the window seat in the second row, stowing my purse and tote under the seat. As the plane filled, I glanced out the window, watching suitcases being tossed onto a conveyor belt. It wasn’t a gentle process, and I almost wished I could open the window and chastise them. Then again, the brief chat with my mother had taken all the fight out of me.
As the flight attendants began marching down the aisle, slamming overhead bins, I settled into my seat, glad the one to my right was unoccupied. I’d be spared the possibility of snoring and drooling or incessant talking, allowing me to relax before what promised to be a taxing weekend. I was happy for Lisa, but I wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending time with Liam. Or Tony. Izzy was going to be the only bright light during the next three and a half days.
A pretty brunette in a navy uniform took the microphone and began the seat-belt-and-safety drill when she was interrupted by a late arrival.
The next thing I knew Liam was standing at the entrance to my row, shoving a duffel bag into the overhead.
“Shouldn’t you be in coach?” I asked in my most sarcastic tone.
“Then I wouldn’t get to sit next to you.”
I speak Italian … Prada! Dolce & Gabbana!
eleven
“There’s a seat across the aisle that’s open,” I suggested as the plane began to taxi down the runway. “In fact,” I paused to look around the compartment, “we’re the only ones in business class, so there’s no need for you to crowd me.”
“I’m not crowding you,” Liam said between gritted teeth as he pried one hand off the armrest long enough to yank tightly on his seat belt.
Leaning to one side, I looked him up and down. I could see the rapid, uneven rise and fall of his chest beneath his rumpled shirt as he choked in breaths. His thigh muscles were taut, his feet braced firmly on the floor. As the plane bounced slightly upon takeoff, the color drained from his face.
I laughed. “You’re afraid of flying.”
“No, I’m afraid of crashing.”
His knuckles were snow white. I reminded him, “You know you’re more likely to wreck your car than to die in a plane crash.”
“Yes, but if I wreck my car I don’t fall thirty thousand feet.”
As the plane leveled off slightly, Liam seemed to relax. Well, it was either the leveling off of the plane or the knowledge that the flight attendant was about to get him a beer.
The roughness of his denim jeans rubbed distractingly against my leg as he continued to fidget in his seat. And I wasn’t the only one distracted, either. The tall, lanky flight attendant with her perfectly made-up face and manicured nails must have checked on him three times before we even reached cruising altitude, while practically making me go self-serve.
“Here you are, sir,” she said, in what I could only classify as a coo. “Are you sure I can’t get you something else?”
“Thanks,” Liam said, his voice less tense.
I glanced around him. “A pinot grigio would be nice, though.”
“Of course,” she answered, in a tone that made me wonder if I’d be drinking it or wearing it.
As soon as she’d stepped into the galley, I said, “If you two need some private time …”
“Jealous?”
“No. I just have better things to do than beg for a drink. I have a command performance in”—I checked my Liz Claiborne watch from the Vero Beach outlets—“less than three hours. Drinking for fortification is an essential part of the performance.”
“Is this our dinner with your family?”
Our? When did that happen? “No, it’s my dinner with my family. You can sit in your room and watch anything from cartoons to porn. Whatever floats your boat.”
Reaching into the pocket of his very Florida, faded-palm-tree-motif shirt, he pulled out a folded slip of paper. Before he had the thing completely open, I knew it was the e-mail I’d sent. Since I’d copied it directly from my schedule, it did include the Thursday-night Tanner family gathering. Well, Tanner family plus one. Two if Liam showed. This was supposed to be my time to get to know the groom a little bit better. Which sounded a lot like getting to know a dust tumbleweed, but hey, I wasn’t dealing with options. I felt guilt wash over me. I was being catty when it came to David, but that was my jealousy rearing its ugly head.
I thought about the duffel he’d so unceremoniously shoved in the bin, and said, “Dinner is dressy.”
“You want me to wear a dress?”
Between the heat of his body being in such close proximity, the scent of his cologne caressing my senses, and the incessant rub of his leg against mine, I was fast running out of patience. “I mean, tie and jacket, which I doubt you crammed into your … luggage.” I made the last word sound like an STD.
“I might surprise you,” he said as he accepted an array of snacks from the devoted flight attendant.
I, on the other hand, was practically tossed a bag of pretzels with my wine. Maybe she was hoping I was one of those peanut allergy people and might die of anaphylactic shock so she could have Liam all to herself. Not that I had him. No, that much he’d made perfectly clear with the whole not-wanting-to-sleep-with-me speech.
“How are things at work?” he asked casually. Half the bottle of beer was gone, and the color had returned to his knuckles.
“Busy because of the Ellen situation. How weird is that?”
“Do
n’t know,” he answered with a shrug.
Of course, it was a shrug that caused us to rub shoulders. I’d had only a few sips of wine, but I took a hefty gulp, hoping it would douse the heat in my belly.
“I don’t know Ellen well, but Tony thinks it might have been her reaction to Dane bringing him in as an equity partner. That cuts into her profits,” Liam said.
I hadn’t thought of that, though I felt a kinship with Ellen. There was nothing I hated more than getting screwed on a paycheck. “I thought Tony was supposed to be some hotshot rainmaker.”
“He is.” Liam agreed, pressing his head back into the pillow so his brilliant blue eyes locked with mine.
As usual, a lock of jet-black hair had fallen haphazardly onto his forehead, and it took all my strength not to reach out and brush it back into place. One thing I knew about Liam was that it was in my best interests to stay hands-off.
“Maybe she had a midlife meltdown.” Or just caught a glimpse of her hideous shoes and went into hiding.
“Maybe,” he agreed as he stroked the not-yet-five-o’clock shadow on his chin.
Suddenly Liam went silent. It was the noisiest quiet I’d ever endured. Part of me was grateful, but another part of me missed the civilized conversation. It was a side of Liam I’d never seen, and I liked it. I more than liked it.
I am an idiot.
“Are we ever going to talk about the other night?” he asked.
Correction, I am an über idiot. “No.”
“I think we should.”
“Did you know your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device in the case of an emergency landing over water?” His grip tightened on his bottle of beer. “Not that I’ve heard of many people floating away from a plane crash.”
“Nice distraction, but I still want to know why you’ve been so frosty. It’s Thursday, and on Tuesday you were practically begging me to—”
“Can we please not go there? Just chalk it up to having a great night, followed by your very thoughtful gift. I just got swept up in the moment.”
“In a moment of Lucky Charms?”
4 Slightly Irregular Page 13