“Thanks, but I don’t want to drag you guys into this. I thought about crashing at my parents’ place, but I really don’t want to do that either.” Like I said, not only could I put Inez in danger, but I’d run the risk of running into her at the mailbox every morning, and being twenty minutes late to every appointment. Imagine how happy that’d make Mrs. J.
“No, I’ve only got a few more days until they’re home, and I’m praying this is all cleared up by then,” I said.
“It sounded on the news like the police had some good leads…” Aria was trying to be positive.
“I wish. Eric made that part up.”
“Shoot, I was hoping it wasn’t something like that. You know, I still think the police should be considering Marion,” she said.
“I know, but come on. Marion? I keep going back to it, but I can’t see her killing her husband. Divorce? Yes. Murder? No way,” I said.
“Girlie, no one knows what goes on in a marriage, other than the two people in it. Who knows what went on behind their closed doors? Marion may act all sweet, sipping lemonade on her front porch, but she could have a temper like the devil. I mean, how well do you ever really know someone?”
That last comment really hit home. If my ex-fiancé hadn’t slipped up and accidentally swapped our phones before deleting his sexting, who knows when I would’ve discovered his affair? I could’ve married the bastard. Sweet sugar, was my Nan looking out for me on that one. Although I would’ve appreciated it if she would’ve intervened a little bit sooner. Saved me some heartache and the down payment on a gorgeous dress.
“Well, lookie there,” Aria said. On cue, Dr. Michelson and Marion walked up the entrance to Maxine’s. The doctor opened the door for Marion and put his hand on her back to guide her in. Something about the action seemed more than a friendly, Here let me get the door for you. Marion looked fresh-faced and a little too happy to be a grieving wife. Midnight Noir mascara covered her every lash, and her pout looked perfect, courtesy of the Plum Pastry lipstick I had dropped off earlier in the week.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“You know I want to say told you so,” Aria said.
I sipped my martini and watched Marion and Dr. Michelson through the front windows as they slipped into a back booth. Their seating preference only added to my suspicion.
“It definitely looks like there’s a little something going on there,” Aria said.
“I hate to admit it, but I think you’re right,” I said.
“Now what?” Aria asked.
“Well, we can’t eavesdrop from over here, and I highly doubt they’re going to start making out.” Maybe I was wrong. Dr. Michelson took that moment to reach across the table for Marion’s hand. He wasn’t shy in the touchy-feely department. Marion looked around before accepting it. I wondered what she would do if I walked right over and said hi. That thought left me inspired. I took a gulp of my martini and headed their way to find out.
“Pssst, Ziva, where are you going?” Aria knew exactly where I was going. I ignored her and slid inside through the side serving door.
I wasn’t trying to sneak up on them, per se, but the look on Marion’s face was priceless when I popped up and said, “Hi, Marion.” Her blue eyes flashed with alarm and she dropped Dr. Michelson’s hand like a hot coal. The doctor reached for her hand once more, but Marion withdrew it and folded her hands on her lap. It looked like Marion wasn’t as eager as Dr. Michelson to go public with their relationship.
“Marion, Dr. Michelson, how’s it going?” I asked.
Marion looked around to see who else I was with. “Fine, I’m doing just fine.” Her eyes continued to dart around the restaurant. “Rich here helped me around the house today, and I offered to take him out to lunch as a thank you. We’re old friends, you know.”
I wasn’t sure I bought that, but I smiled politely and said, “That’s nice of you. I’m just having lunch with a girlfriend of mine, but I can help you out afterward if you need a hand.” It wasn’t nice of me, but I enjoyed seeing Marion squirm.
Dr. Michelson took the lead. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I heard about the attack, and I really think you should be taking it easy.” Marion looked grateful to be saved from having to come up with an excuse.
Dr. Michael’s comment gave me an idea. “You know, the paramedic said I should follow up with you, but I just really haven’t had the time. Maybe I’ll call tomorrow and see if I can get in to see you.” I massaged my neck for emphasis. I was betting I could get more out of the doctor if we talked one-on-one.
“That’d be a good idea. Give Sandy a call. I’m sure she’ll get you in right away,” he said.
“Okay, thanks, Doc.” The waitress started to make her way over with their drink order. “Well, you two enjoy your lunch. Marion, I’ll probably stop by in the next day or so with the rest of your order, if that’s all right.” I had been waiting on a couple of backorders to be shipped, including Marion’s foundation.
Marion nodded that it was okay. I could tell she was still uncomfortable with the situation, which only fueled my speculation. “I’ll see you both soon then,” I said and walked away.
“You’re bad,” Aria said in between mouthfuls. Our food had been delivered in my absence, and my cheeseburger looked divine.
“What? If Marion and Dr. Michelson don’t want to be seen in public together, then they shouldn’t be out to lunch holding hands.”
“That’s true. So, what did they say?”
“Not much. Marion mumbled something about them being old friends and her treating him to lunch. I could tell she wanted to hide under the table, or make me disappear.”
“I’ll bet,” Aria said.
“Dr. Michelson, on the other hand, didn’t seem so shy. Not sure what that’s all about. I’m hoping to learn more at my doctor’s appointment.”
“You getting sick?”
“Don’t have to. Follow up appointment.” I pointed to my neck.
“Brilliant. Can I come with?”
“Of course. You might catch something I miss.”
“Excellent. This will be fun.” Aria was just as excited as me for a trip to the doctor’s office.
After lunch, Aria and I parted ways. Even though I would’ve loved spending the rest of the day hanging out, with our schedules, it just wasn’t possible. Aria had to pick Arjun up from karate and I had a run to get in, not to mention some beauty business to take care of. Note to self: don’t eat a cheeseburger and drink a martini and then attempt go for a run—ever. If dehydration doesn’t kill you, the stomach cramps will. Of course, I knew it was stupid to work out after lunch, but I felt like I was seriously slacking in the physical health department, especially giving in to all my cravings lately.
Sweaty and slightly nauseous, I left the park’s running trail and headed to the UPS Store to pick up my product shipment. Today, I had skipped working out at the beach. Regardless of how beautiful the scenery was, I didn’t feel like running into Finn. I still wasn’t sure how to address what had happened earlier today. After that, I stopped by Ruffles, the clothing boutique downtown, and stocked up on some leggings and flowy shirts. I was looking a bit more voluptuous than usual, which I didn’t mind, but I needed some new clothes to match the curves. Besides, after today’s horrendous run, I decided exercise was overrated.
Back home, as I sat and organized my products, I felt a bit jumpy. Twice, I got up and peered out the living room window at the street below, each time pulling the drapes tighter. I hated that eerie feeling of being watched. It was the same sensation I had that night at the restaurant. I double checked that my front door was locked, and closed all the blinds before settling down with the baseball bat at my side. Anyone who knew me knew I wasn’t afraid to use it either.
I spent some time organizing my desk, filing invoices, reordering Beauty Secrets gift bags and switching out my demo bag, leaving the hunting knife in the side pocket, of course. Last season’s catalogs littered the floor until I
stacked them up under the desk with a promise to recycle them instead of chucking them out. I didn’t need to worry about the remaining free samples I’d found going to waste. Red lipstick never went out of style.
I pulled out my phone and went through my calendar. The city’s spring wedding expo was already coming up this Saturday. I was so unprepared, but I was not going to skip it. I’d bet my weight in chocolate Justine would be there. A fair amount of money could be made doing makeup for brides and their entourages, and I honestly loved weddings, and not just for the cake. No, I had to go to the expo. I quickly jumped back online and doubled my sample order and updated my wedding-season-package flyer.
Just when I was ready to call it an early night, my cell phone rang, scaring the life out of me. My first thought was that it was Finn, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to answer it. I was surprised to see it was Eric; and better yet, he wanted to have dinner tonight. There was no point in staying home all night, scaring myself silly, and dinner with Eric did sound nice. So, I readily accepted.
Red always brought out my dark features and made me feel sexy. Aria’s red sleeveless coat dress was no exception and, courtesy of my newfound curves, I was looking extra fabulous. I borrowed the dress a couple beauty demos ago and hadn’t returned it yet. I debated wearing it. After all, it was a little hubba hubba, and I wasn’t sure that was the look I was going for. In fact, I had a moment of panic on the way to the restaurant. What was I doing meeting Eric for dinner? But then, I reminded myself it was just dinner. Completely casual and no need to freak out about it. I was only exploring my options, like trying on new lipsticks until I found the one shade I loved, and we all know how difficult that can be—mattes, gloss, reds, nudes—need I go on?
I pulled up to Midori’s Sushi just after 7 p.m. and saw Eric sitting at a table alongside the window. He was wearing a dark blue dress shirt and gray slacks. Even without a tie, he looked classy. Dang, that man can dress. I was happy I had gone with the red dress, and smoothed the fabric out as I walked inside to greet him.
“Ziva, you look beautiful.” Eric stood and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I thanked him for the compliment and sat across from him. On the table was a white candle in a frosted-glass container, along with the dinner menu and drink specials. I didn’t need to look at either menu to know I wanted a lychee fruit martini and the dragon roll. The sweetness of the drink and spiciness of the roll was a favorite combination of mine.
“So, what is it about investing that you find so appealing?” I asked Eric, while waiting for our dinner to arrive.
“I don’t know if you know, but I didn’t come from much.”
“Never would guess.” Eric seemed like the type who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
“Yeah, well, it’s not something I go around telling a lot of people,” he said with a smile. “It’s just that I always wanted to become more, have more. That’s what I’ve worked toward most of my life.”
“You’re driven.”
“To make money,” Eric added.
I could understand that, but wasn’t sure I agreed with it. I favored the finer things in life too, but money wasn’t my top priority. I mean, hello, I was a beauty consultant. That didn’t mean that I didn’t have any goals. My motivators were just different.
“And you met Roger…” I questioned.
“When he was looking for someone to join his firm. He needed someone with strong drive and an aptitude for finance. I met both requirements. I just needed Roger’s knowledge and guidance to take it to the next level. Together, we did just that.”
“What is it about you and the beauty business? Well, besides the obvious.” I smiled in an aren’t-you-cute way and took a drink of my martini to hopefully keep myself from blushing.
“Honestly, I love making people feel good about themselves. When you take the time to pamper yourself or treat yourself to that special lipstick, nail polish, or whatever, you’re saying to yourself, ‘I’m worth it. I deserve some me time. I want to look my best for myself, no one else.’ The way a person feels about herself … or himself…,” I said with a smile, “can be empowering. I want my clients to feel empowered.”
“That’s admirable,” Eric said.
“I like to think so. Someday, I’d love to take it to the next level too. Open my own shop and eventually develop my own products. I could probably get a good deal on a commercial building downtown right now,” I said. Especially if the robberies and breaks-ins keep happening.
“If you’re serious about the business aspect of it, I could help you with the financing, show you how the backend of it works and put you in contact with a couple potential investors.”
I wondered if Eric could see the stars in my eyes. “That would be amazing.” My mind was already racing ahead, putting together a business plan and designing my brand. Now more than ever, this killer needed to be caught so I could move on with my life.
“This week has been something, hasn’t it?” Eric said.
“It has,” I agreed.
“I hate the way we met, but I’m glad we did,” he said.
“Me too.”
“So, I propose a toast. To us. To new opportunities,” he said.
“To opportunities. Cheers.” That was something I could definitely drink to.
We spent the rest of dinner talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Well, Eric did. I mostly listened. I learned that Eric would be a heck of a business partner, and I could see why Roger had brought him on board. I was excited to see what he could do for my potential new business. However, in the relationship department, he was a dud. We just had too many different priorities. I was all about helping people feel good about themselves and making a difference. Eric was about money and … well, money. I had a feeling I was more into the way he dressed than the person he was under the clothes. It was a total bummer because he really was smart and good looking. I knew that wasn’t enough though. I had already had one disaster of a relationship and really wasn’t looking for another. Look at me, being all smart. Perhaps I have grown up a bit.
So, while Eric may have been a no-go in the dating department, he was definitely someone I wanted to keep in my rolodex.
11
I called Sandy Thompson, the friendliest receptionist in town, the next morning to make my appointment with Dr. Michelson. It turned out, she had an eleven o’clock opening that morning, which I was happy to take. Aria taught a yoga class at the same time, so I knew she wouldn’t be able to make it, but I scheduled the appointment anyway. I was going in alone.
I left my apartment shortly after ten-thirty and headed downtown, toward the historic district, to Dr. Michelson’s office. Most of the homes in the area used to belong to prominent southern families in the early nineteen-hundreds, but have since been converted into retail spaces, like Sweet Thangs next door to the office. I debated stopping at the sweet shop before my appointment, for a chai latte, but somehow managed to bypass their parking lot and pull into the doctor’s instead. Maybe I was learning a little bit of willpower. Or, maybe I just didn’t like being late.
Dr. Michelson’s office couldn’t have been more welcoming. Throughout the years, the furniture may have been updated and magazines replaced, but the office still held the same warm ambiance. Clusters of oversized reading chairs were grouped together, around coffee tables stacked with children’s books and magazines. A flowering hibiscus tree soaked in the South Carolina sun, peeking through the front bay window. On the opposite wall, a large fish tank, filled with yellow tangs and blue damsels, took up several feet. Coastal paintings and decorative seashells on the tables coordinated perfectly with the crisp, pale-blue walls and virgin oak floors. It was like visiting a friend’s seaside home, as opposed to a doctor’s office.
Even the reception desk was welcoming. Instead of a sliding glass window with a check-in pad, the office had a half-walled counter, where Sandy greeted and registered patients. Sandy was old when I was a little girl, and proba
bly should’ve retired years ago, but she was one of those people who loved her job through and through.
“Good morning, Ziva. How’s your folks doing?” she asked.
“Good. They’re on a cruise right now for their anniversary,” I said.
“Are they really? I’ve asked the mister to take me on a cruise a time or two, but he won’t have it. You know how he feels about boats.” I had no idea how Mr. Thompson felt about boats, but I nodded anyway. “Well tell them I said hi, and go ahead and take a seat. Doctor’s running a little late,” Sandy added.
That was unusual. Doctor Michelson rarely ran behind. I know, a rarity among today’s medical professions, but that was one of the things I liked about him. He was always on time. I promised Sandy I’d pass on her hello, and took a seat at one of the comfy reading chairs to peruse the magazines. Nothing looked interesting enough to read, and I was starting to get mighty bored scrolling through my phone, when Dr. Michelson appeared at the door and invited me to follow him on back. Yet another abnormality. I wondered where his nurse, Kathy, was. I didn’t see her anywhere. Maybe Dr. Michelson was just as eager to talk to me as I was to him.
The rooms on this side of the door looked much more like a traditional doctor’s office. The dreaded scale stood next to the nurses’ station. Evidence of pharmaceutical reps’ visits appeared in the form of pens, tissue boxes, and pamphlets scattered along the station’s counter. Tops of brightly labeled files peeked out from wall-mounted file holders, and each one of the examining rooms lining the hall had a gold number, like an address, affixed to its door. We stopped at room number two, and I went in and had a seat on top of the paper-covered table.
“So, how have you been feeling?” Doctor Michelson asked me. I didn’t answer. I was too busy staring at the Plum Pastry lipstick stain on his lips. I didn’t mean to gawk, but I could swear he’d been kissing Marion. That was her favorite shade. Sensing my scrutiny, Dr. Michelson wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, destroying any possible evidence.
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