AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Twenty-nine
Maggie pulls into the parking lotof the upscale Royal Poinciana Plaza and turns left, away from the valets lingering in front of the Palm Beach Grill. She can park her own car, thank you very much. She has no intention of handing over her keys to a stranger. Taking back control of her life doesn’t mean taking unnecessary chances. Not being a zombie doesn’t mean being an idiot.
She parks under a lamppost close to the main road. There’s little chance of anyone jumping out at her here. Even so, she does a careful survey of the area before opening her car door, her hand around the outline of the gun inside her beige canvas bag.
“Don’t you have another purse you can wear?” Erin asked her as she was leaving the house. “That one’s kind of…ratty.”
Maggie smiles. This purse will do just fine. Maybe one day she’ll feel strong enough to leave her gun behind, but not yet. Despite her fresh resolve, some things are easier said than done. Now is not the time for wholesale changes. Now is baby steps. Now is one day, one thing, at a time.
She checks her watch as she approaches the small crowd milling outside the restaurant’s front door. She’s ten minutes early, which means she still has ten minutes to change her mind.
“Have a nice evening,” one of the valets says, opening the door for her to go inside.
Baby steps,she thinks, taking a deep breath, straightening her shoulders, and entering the noisy, dimly lit interior.
She approaches the hostess’s stand and takes a quick look around. A large, well-stocked bar runs along the wall to her left, followed by a bright, open kitchen. Every barstool is occupied, as are most of the tables in the main body of the restaurant. Lithographs by well-known artists—a swimming pool by David Hockney, a colorful abstract by Appel, a less colorful one by Jack Bush, among others—line the walls. The place is packed, as it always is. Maggie smiles, wondering how many of the diners are packing as well. More than a few likely have guns secreted somewhere on their persons.
The hostess informs her that Richard Atwood hasn’t arrived yet, and Maggie wonders if he’s changed his mind, which would be a blow to her ego but not the end of the world. More embarrassing would be having to face Erin when she got home, to admit that at least one of them came to their senses and decided to take a pass.
She checks her watch again. She’ll give the handsome accountant fifteen minutes and then she’ll leave.
Two minutes later, she feels the restaurant door open behind her and a rush of hot, humid air invade the cold, air-conditioned space. She takes a deep breath and turns around. “Oh my God.”
“Maggie?”
Maggie finds herself staring into her husband’s startled face. “Craig. Hi,” she says when no other words are forthcoming. What’s he doing here? Did Erin phone him, tell him of her plans?
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Same as you, I would imagine. Did Erin call you?”
“Erin? No. Why? Is everything all right?”
“Yes. It’s just that…nothing.” Why is she so surprised to see him? The Palm Beach Grill was always their go-to restaurant of choice. Damn it, of all the places she could have suggested, she had to pick this one.
Unless, of course, subconsciously she’d been hoping to run into him, and that was why she’d picked it.
“You’re looking well,” he says.
“Thank you. You, too.”
“How’s the job going?”
“So far, so good.”
“Well, it certainly seems to agree with you. You’re looking really…wonderful.”
“Hi,” an unfamiliar voice pipes up. Long red fingernails at the end of a delicate bare arm extend toward Maggie. “I’m Selena.”
“Sorry,” Craig says quickly, then again, “Sorry.” He pauses, regroups. “Selena, this is Maggie. Maggie, this is…”
“Selena,” Maggie acknowledges, shaking the young woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” She takes note of the woman’s thick, shoulder-length black hair, and the ample cleavage peeking out from her scoop-necked polka-dot dress. “How do you know Craig?”
“We work together.”
“Ah, the new sales rep. Of course.”
Selena looks from Maggie to Craig, then back to Maggie, dark eyes blinking confusion. “Yes, that’s right. And you know Craig…how?”
