I Think I Love You (41 page)

Mica emitted a thoughtful sound. "I think I fell in love with Dean because he was the first man who treated me as if I mattered. And now I realize that he only treated me well at his convenience and when he thought it would result in more money in his pocket."

"But we were young," Justine added. "I have a feeling the next time I fall in love, it won't be the same."

"Right," Mica said, her expression feathery. "I mean, I'll probably still think of the person all the time."

"Uh-huh," Justine said, equally preoccupied. "And everything will seem just a little...
better
when that person's around."

"But not in a needy way."

"Exactly. Because you'll have the impression that the person feels the same about you."

"That you offer something to complete that person's life."

"And that you don't have to talk all the time to know what the other person is thinking."

"And even though that person hasn't touched you, you somehow just know the sex is going to be incredible."

Justine nodded. "Uh-hmm."

Mica nodded. "Uh-hmm."

Regina looked back and forth between them and refrained from snapping her fingers to bring them back from their reverie. Justine seemed to come around first.

"That is... if I ever fall in love again."

"Right," Mica said, nodding. "Me, too."

Regina smiled and hooked her arms in theirs. "Well, if either of you ever fall in love again, I hope you'll keep me posted."

"You'll be the first to know," Justine said.

"Absolutely," Mica said.

They walked home leisurely, enjoying the lush scenery. When they reached the Doll, John and Cissy were sitting on the front porch, holding hands. Their mother fairly glowed. "We have news," she said.

Justine and Mica claimed chairs. Regina lowered herself to the front step. "What?"

"Well—" Cissy glanced at John, then back. "Your father and I are getting married."

Her sisters exclaimed and jumped to their feet to embrace their parents, but Regina simply smiled and propped her chin in her hand to take in the flurry of activity. She shook her head, marveling at her new-and-improved family.

Warmth swelled her chest. The people she belonged to did care about her and one another after all. She leaned back against the column to release thirty-four years of yearning into the air with a long, happy sigh.

Chapter 38

DO revisit the scene of the crime.

Justine gripped the back of the chair in front of her as she glanced around the meeting room. "I'd like to thank Terri Birch for putting together this meeting, and I'd like to thank each of you for taking time out of your busy day to attend on such short notice."

Pensive faces stared back at her. Everyone in the room was remembering two weeks ago when Lisa Crane had stormed the meeting and started firing. The image was vivid in Justine's mind, too, and they all kept looking toward the door, as if the gunwoman, who was still at large, might reappear.

Justine gestured toward the young woman seated on her right. "I would especially like to publicly thank Bobbie Donetti for her heroics on the last day we were together, and for very likely saving my life."

Bobbie, sporting a sling, nodded demurely.

Justine cleared her throat "I realize that I haven't been the easiest person to work with over the years. I thought to be successful and to have the things that I wanted, I had to grab onto power and guard it. Over the past couple of weeks..." She gave them a wry smile. "Let's just say that my priorities have changed."

She took a deep breath into the silence. "I don't know what my future holds here at Cocoon, but I hope I have the chance to work with each of you again to repair any damage I've caused. Thank you for hearing me out." She gathered her purse and left the room, shoulders straight, chin high. She said hello to the secretary outside the door, who seemed surprised that she was acknowledged.

Justine was halfway down the hall when she heard a voice behind her.

"Justine."

She turned to see Terri Birch striding toward her. "Thanks again, Terri, for setting up the meeting."

"You're welcome. The oversight committee will be meeting tomorrow morning." She extended a small smile. "Based on what I've just seen, I think it would be safe to say we'll find a place for you here. At a level that will keep you close to your current salary range."

Justine nodded. "You're very generous, Terri."

"Despite some of your tactics, you've done some wonderful things for the company. We need you here."

"Thank you. You won't be disappointed."

"I'll call you tomorrow afternoon."

Justine left the building with a curious sense of detachment. If she'd learned anything over the past few days, she'd learned that in the scheme of her life, relationships mattered most. Even if she was fired, she'd find her way. She'd put her mistakes behind her and move on.

Her next stop was at the city hall building to meet with her probation officer—according to Lando, a year's probation for mucking up Dean's murder scene was fair. The woman she would be reporting to over the next twelve months seemed nice enough but harried and overworked. Justine offered to give her a makeover on her next visit and left humming an old song.

Humming,
for God's sake.

She walked back down to the first floor, which housed the police department, and asked for Officer Lando. The man at the front desk covered the phone with his hand and gave her directions. She wound her way through hallways and bullpens to the general area, then asked someone else for Lando's whereabouts. He pointed to a far corner. Lando sat hunched over a tiny typewriter and, from the scowl on his face, was not hitting the keys he'd intended.

"Hello," she said.

He turned around and the scowl dropped from his face. "Hello. You're back."

She nodded. "And my plant is still alive."

He stood and smiled. "That's a good sign."

"I came to talk to you about Lisa Crane."

His expression turned stoic. "Oh. Okay. Do you want to sit?"

She shook her head. "I have an idea where she might be."

"Where?"

"I'll ride with you."

"I can't let you go on a police call."

She turned to go. "Then I'll go by myself."

Behind her, he sighed. "Wait up. I'll drive."

A few minutes later, she sat in the passenger seat of his cruiser and gave directions.

He looked up at the budding she indicated before pulling into the parking lot. "The Rosewood Hotel?"

She shrugged. "Just a hunch." If Lisa Crane had found her husband's hotel receipts, then it was possible that, just as she had wanted to relive her wedding day, Mrs. Crane might also have felt compelled to visit "the scene of the crime."

They walked into the lobby and she smiled at the male desk clerk. "Can you tell me if Room 410 is occupied?" Lando backed her up with a badge flash.

The man checked a computer screen. "That room is unavailable. A homeless person broke in the week before last and set a fire. The damage was nominal, but we're waiting to have the room professionally cleaned before we reopen it to guests."

She exchanged glances with Lando. He looked back to the clerk. "Please evacuate the fourth-floor rooms and shut down the elevators."

The man burst into action and twenty minutes later Lando stood in front of the door to Room 410. Justine had insisted on staying and stood next to him, her heart thumping.

He rapped and said, "Housekeeping."

There was no answer, no sound from within.

He slipped the key into the door and turned the lock. "Housekeeping," he repeated loudly, then the door caught on a six-inch chain—someone was definitely inside the room.

He drew his gun and gestured for Justine to go to the end of the hall—unnecessary since she was already moving in that direction.

He stepped back and kicked the door open with a
blam,
then disappeared inside. A few seconds later, a muffled noise sounded, then a shot. Justine screamed and ran toward the room. Along the way she yanked a tall lamp off a table and hefted it, fringed shade and all, like a weapon. Not exactly lethal, but it might distract the Crane woman with laughter.

"Lando!" she yelled, then rushed into the room, poised to strike.

"All's clear," he said from the rumpled bed where he straddled a face-down Lisa Crane and handcuffed her hands behind her back. The minibar stood open, ransacked of food and drink.

"Who fired?"

He pointed to a small black hole in the wall. "She did." He radioed to the lobby to send up the EMTs he'd requested.

The woman didn't fight him but focused on Justine as he placed her under arrest and recited her rights. "This is where you did it with my husband." She sounded like a child.

Justine bit down on the tip of her tongue. "Mrs. Crane, I'm very sorry for all the pain I've caused you. I know it doesn't change things, but I am very, very sorry. I'll help you... I'll speak to the DA on your behalf."

Lisa Crane closed her eyes and seemed to lose consciousness. Indeed, she was as limp as a rag doll when the EMTs transferred her to a gurney. They checked her vitals. "She passed out," one of them said. "But her pulse is strong."

They wheeled her out, and Justine collapsed into a chair, floppy with relief and despair. She stared at the bed where she and Randall had humped away their lunch hours, and her stomach rolled. "I destroyed that woman's life."

Lando exhaled noisily. "You were the one who said the woman's husband took the vows, not you."

"I seduced Randall," she said. "He wouldn't have come on to me if I hadn't initiated an affair. I'm not exonerating him, but I've learned a big lesson about myself." She shook her head. "No more married men." And no more empty affairs, even if it meant being alone.

"Glad to hear that," he said. He dropped the woman's gun into an evidence bag and scanned the scene, taking notes. She sat in silence, watching the big man move around the room. What he must think of her.

He relieved her of the lamp. "What were you going to do with this?"

"I hadn't thought it through exactly."

He smiled. "Seems as though you do a lot of that."

She squinted. "Do you think a person can change, Lando?"

"Sure," he said. "If they get tired enough of their old self."

"I'm tired."

He nodded toward the door. "I'll take you home."

She pushed herself to her feet.

Lando scratched his temple. "By the way... my name is Kevin."

She smiled.

Chapter 39

DO have a Plan B.

Mica pasted on a smile for the imposing group of reporters, executives, gossip columnists, and philanthropists that Everett had brought together for a combined breakfast/press conference. Only a handful of people in the room knew the details of the "exciting charity challenge" that was about to be announced. She sat holding a gold foil box, her head and shoulders swathed in a long scarf. She focused on Everett, who had claimed the microphone. His presence had become so dear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, consumers all over the world identify Mica Metcalf's face and long gorgeous hair with Tara Hair products. Today I'd like to announce that Mica and the wonderful folks at Tara have come up with a way to pool their resources to support the efforts of a precious children's charity. Mica?"

She joined Everett at the podium and began to unwind the scarf. Since she'd returned to LA, she'd kept a low profile that involved hats and head wraps. When her cropped hair was revealed, the audience gasped. Cameras flashed.

Everett spoke into the microphone. "Mica has generously donated her beautiful hair to Care About Kids, an organization that makes wigs for child victims of diseases who lose their own hair during medical treatments."

The room erupted into applause, and Mica beamed. While Everett had been agonizing over how to break the news of her shorn locks to Tara, she had shared an observation she'd made while walking the halls of the hospital during Justine's recovery. The patients in the children's wing had broken her heart—some of them had little or no hair, and she had plenty at home in a box. It hadn't seemed fair. So she'd asked Everett if, regardless of the future of her career, he could look into the possibility of her severed braid being put to good use?