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“I’m dropping you off,” Rex said.
“I know the plan,” Ravinia retorted. She was already pushing open the door as Rex eased to a stop and let her out.
“Just try not to be obvious.”
That was a joke. In her short skirt, she felt like a beacon, although she didn’t get quite as many stares as Kimberley.
Ravinia walked up a short flight of sweeping stairs to the upper lobby where she caught a glimpse of Kimberley heading toward the restaurant that faced the ocean. Hurrying after her, Ravinia’s right ankle wobbled a b
it. She had to slow down to bring that under control and by the time she reached the maître d’s stand, she was walking like she’d been in heels her whole life . . . pretty much. “Is there a table by the window?”
Kimberley, soul of discretion that she was, had already enthusiastically hugged her date, a young, buff man with longish brown hair, smoldering dark eyes, and an avaricious look about him.
Ravinia searched his heart as she cruised past to the next table, drawing a startled look to his face, but found only a modicum of interest in anything of the world outside himself.
Bad choice, Kim.
She was seated at the table next to them and when the waiter brought her a menu, she pretended to peruse it, nearly losing focus from Kimberley and her friend when she saw the prices.
She glanced over the top as she heard Kimberley telling him eagerly, “Putting together a reunion show. All of us that were modeling before are in one place, well, except for Donna, since she’s gone on to other things. The men, of course, have their own rooms, but the new competitors are staying at another hotel.”
Her date wore a dark gray T-shirt molded to his sculpted chest. He was leaning his bare forearms on the table and her fingers slid across to touch them. Her smile turned absolutely naughty as she trailed one hand possessively up his taut muscles toward his shoulders. “That’s where you’ll be,” she assured him huskily.
“That’s a solid?” His voice was surprisingly squeaky.
“Yes, Donovan. Yes.”
His smile spread to a thin, wicked line. “Ya wanna fuck?”
“Yes, Donovan. Yes . . .”
Elizabeth walked Amy Ferguson, who was as nice as her mother was mean and suspicious, to the front door under Pat’s watchful eye. Amy had her cell phone out and was looking at her calendar. “I’d like to meet before Saturday, but I don’t know that I can. The rest of Mom’s stuff is being picked up that morning. The house should be completely empty by the afternoon.”
“Saturday’s fine,” Elizabeth said, annoyed at the way Pat hung on every word.
To make matters worse, Connie suddenly burst out of Mazie’s old office and stalked their way.
Amy was saying, “I almost moved into it, but my job’s taking me to Seattle. You never know, do you?” She pushed through the front doors to the outside where weak afternoon sun was fighting its way through a bank of gray clouds.
“No, you never do.” Elizabeth tried to pull the doors shut behind her, but Connie yanked them open and rushed out.
“Oh, Amy, how’re you doing, girl? Haven’t seen you since the memorial service. It’s Connie. Connie Berker,” she said to Amy’s blank look, thrusting out her hand and pumping Amy’s for all she was worth. “Your mom was such a fantastic person. I learned everything from her. She just knew this business and everybody in it. A real dynamo.”
“Thank you,” Amy said, shooting a glance to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stepped outside. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Amy, you need anything, you can call any one of us.” With ill grace, Connie added, “I know Elizabeth was your mom’s right-hand woman. She took great care of all her clients.” Something in her tone made it clear she didn’t believe a word of it. From the palm of her hand, she suddenly produced a business card with the adroitness of a magician. “All of us at Suncrest feel like you’re family, just like Mazie was.” Her lips trembled and for a moment Elizabeth thought Connie might actually produce a tear. “I miss her so much.”
Amy looked down at the card, opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.
Burning with repressed anger, Elizabeth said tautly, “Let me walk you to your car.”
As they headed away from Connie who seemed to want to follow them but couldn’t figure out how without being a further buttinsky, Amy said, “Mom was a lot of things, but she wasn’t well loved at work.”
Elizabeth shook her head, glad for the honesty but aware that, no matter what she said, they were talking about Amy’s mother. “She was a hard worker.”
“What’s the story with this other agent?” Amy held up the card.
