by Beverly Long
She left the community center and drove to the printer. There she inspected the printed cards. They were perfect. She paid for them and watched while the clerk placed them in a box.
She had a couple hours before her hair appointment. There was no sense going back to Blade’s apartment. He’d be sleeping and Sophie would be at play practice. She drove to Pratt Sports Spot. There were art proofs on her desk for new store signage that needed to be approved, and she needed to write a press release about several new product lines that the store was taking on.
When she got to her desk, the light on her phone was blinking, telling her that she had voice mail. She entered her password. Sixteen messages. What the heck? That was a lot considering there hadn’t been any when she’d left the previous night at five o’clock. She pressed 1 to listen to the first message. All she heard after several seconds of nothing was a hang up. She deleted it. She went on to the next message. Same thing. Nothing for several seconds, and then the call ended. She went on to the third message, but did not delete the second message.
Every remaining message was just the same. Sixteen hang-up calls.
What the hell?
Now all thoughts of actually accomplishing something were out of her head. She was consumed with this. She wanted to talk to Blade, to get his read. He was a good thinker. But he’d worked all night. He needed his sleep.
Maybe Marcus. Yes. That was probably the right thing to do.
She found his card in her purse. Punched in his number.
“Marcus Price,” he answered.
“Marcus, it’s Daisy.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I... I’m at work and something odd has happened that I wanted you to be aware of. I had sixteen hang-up calls on my voice mail. They came in sometime after five o’clock.”
“Do you have any way of seeing the number they came from?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I could probably ask someone in the Information Services department. They handle our phones. We have someone in our data center 24/7.”
“Call them. I’m ten minutes away.”
“I’m not sure you need to come,” she said. She was getting really tired of being a bother.
“I’d like to have a listen. Don’t delete them.”
“I have fifteen of the sixteen,” she said. “I’ll watch for you. The corporate offices are locked on Saturday.”
She was walking down the last flight of stairs when she saw his SUV pull up out front. She unlocked the door, let him in and locked the door behind him. “Thanks for coming,” she said.
“Of course. Blade on his way?”
“I didn’t want to bother him. I’m sure he’s sleeping. I’ll fill him in later.” After the dance.
Marcus followed her upstairs to her office. There he listened to three of the saved voice mail messages. “What did your IS department say about the number?”
“I left a message with a call center tech. She said that she’d have an analyst look at it, but right now he was focused on our Tacoma store where all the cash registers are off-line for some reason.”
“They’ll call you?”
“I gave them my number and your number,” she said. “I don’t think there is much else we can do here now.”
“Nothing else unusual has happened?” Marcus asked.
“No. You’ll be at the dance later, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you there.”
* * *
She tried to put the calls out of her mind as she drove to the salon. Once in the chair, she was finally able to because she had cold feet. Maybe an up-do was too much. It was really just an after-hours work event.
“You have beautiful hair,” the stylist said. Her name was Dee-Dee and her short hair was a lovely red. “Really healthy. Thick. It’s a good thing you’re a few minutes early. This is going to take a while.”
A while was forty-five minutes, but when it was done, Daisy was confident her hair wasn’t going anywhere. How was it that a good stylist could pin it and spray it as if preparing for battle but manage to make it look effortless and rather whimsical. It was magic. And she was glad she’d done it.
“Thank you,” she said, giving the stylist a generous tip. Then, as her stomach loudly rumbled, she pressed her hand against it. “Excuse me,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t have any lunch.”
“There’s a sub place around the corner that’s really good,” the stylist said.
“I may just do that.” If she planned on having a glass of wine before dinner tonight, she better eat a little something now or she might be facedown on the floor.
There’d be a very sexy paramedic nearby, however. Might make it worth it. He could do some mouth-to-mouth. Might be her only chance to get close to him. They’d still not told Sophie or Raven that there was something romantic between them. They would have to keep up that pretense tonight, regardless of how difficult it might be. Hosea would be there. Charlie. All the bosses who might have a legitimate right to be concerned that she and Blade had mixed business with pleasure. She was so new at her job that she couldn’t take the chance on that becoming her reputation.
“Use the back door. It’s closer,” the stylist said.
Daisy checked her cell phone as she made the short walk. There was text from Blade. I’m awake, almost functional. How is your day going?
Great. Be back to your house in a half hour to change, she texted.
He was likely to be irritated once she told him about the sixteen hang-up calls. But she wasn’t going to let that ruin the night. They’d both worked hard to make this a success.
She walked into the sub shop. She wasn’t surprised that it wasn’t busy; it was late for lunch and early for dinner. There was one other customer who had his back to her. He was staring out at the parking lot. She could see her rental and maybe fifteen other vehicles. Perhaps he was waiting for someone.
She ordered a small turkey sandwich and a soda to drink from the young girl behind the counter. She waited while her sandwich was prepared, paid for her meal and carried it to a table. When she pulled out her chair to sit, the legs scrapped on the tile floor. The customer turned in his seat to look.
And she almost spilled her soda when the two of them made eye contact.
Chapter 19
The man visibly jerked, his eyes flaring with what might have been panic. But then he quickly looked down at the remains of his lunch. Then he was up and out the door, leaving his trash on the table.
Some people were good with faces. Some were good with names. Daisy had always been good with both. Especially if she’d had conversation with them. It was helpful in her line of work. She was confident that she’d never spoken to the man, but she’d definitely seen him before. She closed her eyes and tried to place where.
Was it the communication conference in Chicago? Or was he a parent at Sophie’s school in Denver? Maybe it had been the airport? Damn. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. But it seemed as if he’d recognized her, too. Or was it possible that he’d simply been startled by the screech of the chair’s legs on the floor?
He was crossing the parking lot, headed toward a beige sedan. She did not recognize the car and couldn’t see the plates. Was he one of Jacob’s posse? She’d never met them, but the police had described a cult-like atmosphere in the Denver dwelling where Jacob’s followers had viewed him as their spiritual leader.
Should she call Marcus?
She was just about to pull out her phone, after all, better safe than sorry, when she saw a woman crossing the lot, also headed to the car. The two of them got there at almost exactly the same time. He drove, she sat shotgun.
Oh, good grief. The man had simply been watching the parking lot, waiting for his wife. For all Daisy knew, the woman might have been in the salon.
&nbs
p; She was dreaming that she’d seen him before. Seeing monsters in the corners when there were none. She was grateful she hadn’t called. Marcus was going to start to think she was a nut. Or worse, the girl who cried wolf. Then, when she really did need help, nobody was going to believe her.
She finished her sandwich, drank half her soda and threw her garbage in the trash. Then she walked back to her car. She took the long way back to Blade’s house, which allowed her to drive past her little Cape Cod. She slowed. The house looked good. She didn’t stop. She’d promised Blade that she wouldn’t go back unless he or Marcus was with her.
But that arrangement couldn’t go on forever. It was time to go home. Sophie needed her own space, not to be living in some other girl’s bedroom. And Blade would probably be grateful to have his bed back. He was too tall for the couch. Although he was getting a break from it for several hours every night.
She finished the drive to Blade’s duplex, filled with a resolve to move forward with her life after the dance. She’d been in limbo, a sexually-satisfying limbo for sure, for the past two weeks.
She was surprised that the apartment was empty. She had expected Blade to be there. She checked her phone to see if there was a text she might have missed and sure enough, there was a brief message. My mom called. My dad is pretty sick. I’ll meet you at the dance. Will try not to be late.
The entire Savick family was going to have really tough days ahead of them. But perhaps this was evidence that Larkin, Gemma and Blade would be there to support each other.
She got ready. It didn’t take long. She couldn’t shower and risk getting her hair wet so she took a nice warm bath instead. Then she dried off and added a quick spray of her favorite perfume. She pulled on panties but no bra; it was built into the dress.
She stepped into the dress and pulled it up. The strapless satin bodice was tight to the waist, and then it flowed in layers of chiffon. She felt like a princess. She slipped her feet into black sandals with a two-inch heel and added some pearl studs to her ears.
She walked quickly to the car. While it was a lovely early spring evening, it was definitely too cold to be outside wearing only a strapless gown. She got in her rental and turned the heat on high. It was a short drive to the community center. There were already cars in the parking lot, and she assumed it was mostly kitchen and serving staff.
Sure enough, she saw both Raven and Sophie once she got inside. They were in the kitchen, on either side of a butcher-block table, an immense bowl of salad between them. Both were holding tongs.
“Hey, girls,” she said, catching their attention.
“Oh, my God,” Sophie said. “You look amazing, Mom. No wonder you didn’t let us see it early. It’s totally awesome.”
It was one of the nicest compliments she’d ever gotten. She twirled in her pretty dress. “Thank you.”
“Can I have it when you’re done with it?” Raven asked.
“She’s my mother. I get the dress,” Sophie said quickly, her tone teasing.
“Neither of you is getting it,” Daisy said. “What are you doing?”
“Plating 424 salads,” Sophie said. “They all have to be identical, or as close as we can get them. I put the salad on the plate and then Raven adds three beet slices, six walnuts and a tablespoon of cheese. It’s a little ridiculous. I mean, it’s just salad.”
It was just evidence of Gertie’s commitment to consistency and style. “They’re going to be beautiful,” she said.
“I might do five walnuts or maybe seven on a couple, just to see if anyone notices,” Raven said.
“You’ll have to live with yourself,” Daisy said.
Gertie came around the corner of the table. She stopped short when she saw Daisy. “That is a beautiful dress,” she said. “Now get the heck out of my kitchen before you spill something on it.”
“What can I do to help?” Daisy asked.
“We’re in pretty good shape. They just set up the sound system. Maybe you’ll want to check that.”
She’d volunteered to write Hosea Pratt’s speech, but he’d told her that he was comfortable making his own remarks. She’d delicately reminded him that both he and the fire chief should keep their comments to under five minutes in length. That was long enough. Nobody came to these events to hear someone drone on.
She left the kitchen. When she stepped into the large meeting room, she was amazed at the transformation. It was really lovely. The tables were all beautifully set. The flameless candles on each of the tables had been turned on, and light was flickering through the room. The DJ had turned on the music and soft instrumental filled the room.
She tested the microphones. “Raise your hands in the back of the room if you can hear me,” she said. And the three young women who were arranging the silent auction items raised their hands. Excellent.
She turned off the microphone and wandered back to see if they needed any help. “This looks great,” she said. For every item, there was a bidding sheet, with a minimum bid already listed. They had also included the detailed information that she’d written about each prize. If she didn’t say so herself, it was some persuasive writing. Everything sounded wonderful.
Hopefully the bidding would be fierce.
She glanced at her watch. The event would start in less than a half hour. The first forty-five minutes would be cocktails and appetizers, then speeches. Dinner would be served, then dessert and coffee, and then the dancing and silent auction bidding. By eleven, it would be done. The fat lady would have sung.
And the way it looked right now, her first big event was going to be a rip-roaring success. It was gratifying. And she knew that she owed Blade a great debt. The photos that she’d been able to get had been spectacular.
She turned. Speaking of spectacular. Blade had arrived and was chatting with Cheryl, who was setting up the appetizer table. He looked tall and elegant in his black suit and white shirt. She watched him for a minute, just enjoying the view. He started to cross the room, heading toward the kitchen. But he wasn’t making much progress—every two or three feet he’d get stopped by somebody. They probably wanted to comment on some of the photos, maybe thank him for his work. He was such a nice guy, always making time for people, that he would never blow them off.
Finally, she got close enough that when he glanced forward, he saw her.
And if there had been any doubt that the price of the dress had been worth it, they vanished. His eyes told her everything.
“Strapless. You should have warned me,” he said, when he got close enough not to be overheard. His hands were at his side, but she could see the tension and knew that he wanted to touch her. “You’re beautiful.”
He said it with reverence. And her body responded, getting very warm in all the right places.
“You’re pretty debonair yourself,” she said.
“This old thing,” he mocked, motioning to his suit. “I like your hair.” He leaned even closer. “I’m going to enjoy taking out every pin,” he whispered in her ear.
She couldn’t wait.
She stepped away. She really couldn’t trust herself. “Do you like the room?”
He turned to look. “It’s amazing. All those weeks ago, when they told me that I was the cochair, I couldn’t have imagined this. You did it. You made it happen.”
“I had good material,” she said. “All I did was find an audience.”
“I tried to call you earlier,” he said. “You didn’t answer.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “My phone is in my purse. I tossed it under our table.” She and Blade would join Hosea and his wife and the fire chief and his wife. “I hope you weren’t worried.”
“I called Gertie. She said that you were in the building, making last-minute inspections. I just wanted to make sure that your day had gone well, that there wasn’t anything unusual.”
She though
t about the man in the sub shop and her over-the-top reaction. About the hang-up calls. That was a conversation for another time. “No, it was fine. The hair took a little longer than expected.”
He glanced at her bare shoulders. “I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you. We should have told the girls. We should have told everybody.”
She smiled. “Maybe that’s what makes it exciting. That it’s our secret.”
He shook his head, his eyes serious. “That’s not what makes this exciting or different.”
Again, a conversation for another time. “Let’s check with Gertie one last time,” she said. She led the way to the kitchen.
“I’ve never been in the military,” Daisy whispered as they entered the kitchen, “but I kind of think this is what someone means when they say it was a precise military operation. Nothing left for chance.”
They watched for a few minutes. “Let’s get out of here,” Blade said finally. “We’ll only mess it up.”
It was time for them to be out front, anyway. Guests were starting to arrive. Blade went to the right, Daisy to the left. Each took a spot by the door and welcomed guests as they arrived. They pointed them toward the cash bars and to the complimentary cheese and relish tray in the middle of the room. And they encouraged everyone to closely examine the silent auction items and bid on their favorites.
It was a steady stream of people. Daisy could tell that Blade knew most of the people. Most were strangers to her, but they stopped to introduce themselves and tell her how much they’d enjoyed the Remember This campaign. She saw Marcus and his date, who was a stunning black-haired beauty, arrive. He was followed by Jamie Weathers and his date, a pretty woman who looked good in her red dress. Blade had told her that she was also a physician at the hospital.
Hosea, using a walker, arrived. His wife was a lovely woman who shook Daisy’s hand. “Thank you for the work on this fundraiser. It is something that Pratt Sports Spot can be very proud of,” she said.
