She stood in the shadow of the sheer curtains and peeked out through a slit in the built-in white wooden shutters. Norell stubbed out a cigarette and said something to Cécile. They both looked pretty calm, no twisted faces of anger, thank God. Dana watched as they stepped off the patio and around to the front of the house. She guessed they were done. Surely both her friends would call later and fill her in. She hoped they had come to a real understanding and not just a temporary fix.
The ringing phone made her jump. Then, realizing how foolish she had been to allow herself to be startled in her own bedroom, she chuckled. She still wore a smile as she picked up the receiver and said hello.
“Hi, it's Gil.”
Dana immediately forgot all about Norell and Cécile. “Hi!”
“I didn't interrupt your meeting, did I?”
“No, it's all over. The girls just left. We're all busy little bees, making money day and night. What's on your mind?”
“Do you think you might be able to take a few days off? I thought it might be nice to get out of Jacksonville for a few days.”
“Oh? What'd you have in mind?” She reclined against the pillows, stretching her upper body and feeling quite sexy.
“Savannah. It's a pretty city, conveniently located, historic, romantic.”
Dana couldn't care less about the history, but a romantic setting definitely appealed to her.
“What do you say? I know it's short notice, but there's not much time until Brittany returns. If we're going to get away, we probably need to do it this weekend.”
“Yes, Brittany comes back a week from Thursday. What about Irene?”
“There's no need for her to know my whereabouts. Vanessa is still down at my parents'. I'm in touch with her directly.”
“Do you plan to tell her about us?”
“Yes, eventually. I'm still trying to work it out in my head. Don't worry about her, Dana.” He paused. “So, should I make a reservation for this weekend?”
“Sure.” She saw no reason to be coy about it. When a man asked a woman to go away with him for a weekend, that meant sex.
She couldn't wait.
Chapter 26
N
orell breathed deeply as she accelerated away from Dana's house. CDN held their partners' meetings at ten
A.M.
so that traffic conditions would be more favorable. Cécile lived reasonably close to Dana, but she had to drive in all the way from the beach, and all the way back. That commute always cut into her output on meeting days.
It was only eleven-twenty, but Norell felt like she'd already put in a full day. Confessing her true feelings to Cécile had felt almost therapeutic, but it also drained her emotionally. And it didn't take the pain and resentment away. She doubted anything would.
At least she had helped mend her fractured relationship with Cécile. Two of Norell's relationships were in need of repair: those with Vic and Cécile. She felt optimistic about both. She and Vic had enjoyed a good weekend together. Saturday they worked side by side in their spacious gourmet kitchen and made a surf-and-turf dinner, complete with giant baked potatoes and salad containing a little of everything. With their dinner she drank only two glasses of red wine. When they went out yesterday afternoon for an early, informal dinner against the background of live music at a local restaurant, she had only two drinks. Last night they'd made love and fallen asleep in each other's arms, and they had a quickie again this morning, a rarity for them. They had plans to meet in town for dinner at six tonight.
That would present a challenge. She wouldn't get home for another twenty minutes, but she still had a full day's work to do. She'd have to get cracking the moment she walked in the door. To meet Vic by six she'd have to be dressed and on her way downtown by five-fifteen, and that time would be here before she knew it.
But she just had to have something to calm her nerves after the confrontation with Cécile. She knew that the three-quarter liter bottle of Smirnoff at home had only a few drops left.
I'll have one drink before I start my work
, she promised silently as she pulled into the parking lot of the liquor store.
Just to take the edge off. Then I'll be fine.
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Vic looked at his watch impatiently. Twenty after six already. Where the hell was Norell?
His cell phone began to ring, and one look at the originating number and he knew the reason for the call. “Yeah,” he greeted without enthusiasm.
“Vic, I'm so sorryâ”
“Don't bother, Norell. I know what's coming. You're busy with your work, you lost track of the time. Why don't we just forget it? I'll be home soon.” He broke the connection before she could respond.
Even as he said the words, Vic knew he wasn't going home, at least not right away. Let her worry about
him
for a change ... if she even noticed his absence.
He signaled the bartender for the check. He'd finish his beer, then have a good dinner at that seafood place upstairs, where he'd planned to take Norell.
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Micheline moved with quick steps. Her coworkers were getting together for drinks at The Landing after work, but she'd stayed late to finish some research she was doing with a source in Texas, where it was an hour earlier. She hoped the others were still there.
They were, but they were about to leave. “I'll have to catch y'all next time,” she said.
“Are you going home?” someone asked.
“No, I think I'll get some dinner to take out.”
Micheline walked around The Landing, a large wharflike structure with shops and restaurants on the banks of the St. Johns, trying to decide what to get for dinner. She was familiar with the fast-food stands on the upper level facing the street. Sit-down restaurants lined the side of the building facing the river, offering both indoor and outdoor seating. She knew from her coworkers that new restaurants came and went all the time. Hooters was one of the few long-term tenants, but she didn't feel like eating chicken wings while those Hooters girls, flinging long blond tresses, strutted around in their too-tight T-shirts and bright orange shorts, so short that their flat little butt cheeks hung out. They should hire more sisters if they wanted nice round behinds.
Hmm ... The menu the seafood restaurant posted outside its entrance made her mouth water. That was it.
She approached from behind what appeared to be a middle-aged black man who, judging from his slim torso and flat belly, worked hard at keeping himself in shape. He must have sensed she was behind him, because he glanced around and smiled at her, then held the door open for her to walk through.
“Thank you,” she said graciously, noting that not only did he take care of himself, he was handsome as well, in an older man type of way.
The hostess approached and smiled at them. “Table for two?”
Micheline and the stranger looked at each other and laughed. “No,” she told the woman. “Actually, I just wanted to see a menu so I could place a takeout order.”
“I need a table,” the man said. “But could you give us a minute?”
“Certainly.” The hostess promptly disappeared. Micheline looked at the stranger with an arched eyebrow, although she knew the question about to be asked.
“It seems a little silly to dine alone if I can have some company,” he said. “My wife stood me up. Would you join me? It's just dinner.”
Micheline shrugged. He had a point. Joining him would be harmless. Besides, it would be more fun to eat with someone than to eat alone, even if the someone was old enough to be her father. He might even pick up her check. “Why not?”
When the hostess returned she didn't seem in the least surprised that they would need a table for two. She led them to a table with a view of the St. Johns, an unusual river in that it flowed from south to north. Several boats bobbed in the water, their owners having turned off the motors to allow them to float in the tide. A water taxi ferried back and forth between The Landing and the St. Johns River's south bank, the home to more hotels and restaurants.
“I'm from South Florida and have only been here a few months, but Jacksonville is a nice city. I think I'll stick around awhile,” Micheline remarked after they introduced themselves with first names only. His name was Vic.
“You make our city much prettier.”
“You're charming, Vic.”
“What is it that brought you to the First Coast?”
“I wasn't happy in West Palm anymore. Except for a few years spent in New York right after college, I'd lived there my whole life. I have a sister here, so it seemed logical. I applied for a job here and they offered it to me, so that makes life a lot more pleasant. I'm a paralegal at Mills and Conrad.”
“Are you bilingual?”
“I speak French, but I don't use it in my work.”
“Oh. I thought you might speak Spanish.”
Micheline smiled. She had heard this many times. She didn't agree, but many people thought she looked Latina. In West Palm people were always coming up to her and babbling in Spanish. She had learned to say “No hablo Español” to get rid of them.
They took a few minutes to study the menu, and the waitress approached and, apparently alerted by the hostess that they were not together, asked, “Will this be separate checks?”
“You can put both on mine,” Vic said easily.
Micheline merely shrugged, as if it didn't matter, although secretly she was delighted. She calmly gave the waitress her order, followed by Vic.
She waited until the waitress left before saying, “That was sweet, but you didn't have to do that, Vic.”
“It's all right. I was going to buy my wife dinner, anyway.”
“Is she all right?”
“She's fine. She's just very busy. She operates a home-based business.”
“My sister works at home, too. Personally, I don't know how she does it. I'd be bored to tears, staying in the house all day long. But she's got kids, and she swears it's worth it for the convenience.”
“I can't argue with the logic of having someone in the house during business hours. It makes it nice for deliveries and home services. But I'll say this much: My wife never stood me up when she worked for somebody else.”
Micheline discreetly lowered her gaze. She picked up on a definite note of discontent in his voice. This would bear closer inspection ... there might be something in it for her.
Over the course of dinner they spoke about their work. Vic worked as a bail bondsman, and he amused Micheline with stories about some of the more frivolous charges his clients had been jailed for. In turn, she spoke about the interesting cases she had worked on.
They were just finishing up when Vic's beeper went off. As he reached for the gadget he hoped Norell was calling to ask when he would be home, but his hopes dissolved when he saw a familiar number in the display.
“Is everything all right?” Micheline asked, thinking the little woman wanted to know what was taking him so long to get home.
“Yeah, it's a regular customer. And since there's still time to post bond and get him hatched tonight, I'll have to get right on it.”
“At least they didn't interrupt your dinner.” Micheline demurely dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
“True. My cell phone's in the car, so I'll just take care of the check and be on my way. Will you be all right?”
“Oh, sure.” She got to her feet and held out her hand. “It was a very pleasant dinner, Vic.”
“I enjoyed it, too. Thank you for dining with me.”
“It was my pleasure. Good night.”
Micheline headed toward the exit. She longed to turn around to see if Vic was watching her, but couldn't think of a way to do so without appearing obvious.
She got her chance when she came upon the hostess, who bade her farewell in that cordial tone hostesses use, but Micheline knew the woman was surprised to see her leaving alone.
She turned around to exchange pleasantries with the hostess and saw Vic rising from the table. If he had been watching her at all, he certainly wasn't now. She turned and left. There went a man obviously very much in love with his wife. She hoped the wife realized it, because even the most faithful husband had a breaking point. She shrugged. It wasn't like she'd wasted her time; she'd gotten a nice dinner out of it.
When she stepped into her dark apartment she saw the orange blinking light on her cordless phone, indicating someone had left a message. She took her time getting to it. It had been a long day, longer than she'd planned on, and she wanted nothing more than to get out of her business clothes and relax.
She changed into a terry-cloth halter dress and booties, and poured an Arizona chocolate soda over ice before finally picking up the phone to see who had called. She hoped it wasn't Cécile. Her sister called at least twice a week. Their relationship had been strained since that unpleasantness with Sean Sizemore, but Micheline had a hunch that Cécile kept an eye on her for the benefit of their parents, whom she knew worried about her living alone in a strange city.
But it was a deep male voice that greeted her. “Hey Michie, it's Errol. I was just thinking about you and wanted to hear your voice. I'll try you again about nine.”
She smiled, glad she'd missed his call. Surely his curiosity had been aroused about her possible whereabouts on a Monday night, and that was fine by her.
A second message had been left as well. “Michie, it's Yolanda. I haven't talked to you in a while and thought I'd say hello. I hear from Rob that things are going pretty good with you and Errol. Any wedding plans?” She laughed heartily before hanging up.
Micheline disconnected from voice mail and reached for the remote control as she stretched out on the sofa, carefully cocooned in a blanket she kept handy to protect the white cotton upholstery. Micheline didn't believe in tying herself down with a lot of material things, but everything she owned was the best she could afford.
She'd loved the openness of the apartment's layout from the very first moment she saw it. Micheline planned to stay here a while, probably until she married. At that time she expected to go directly into a house, and a nice one, not one like that awful little place Cécile had. She wanted a place even nicer than Dana's or Yolanda's.
And if she could keep Errol interested despite the no-sex edict, she had a good shot at making it all come true.
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“I thought you'd be home before now,” Norell remarked.
Still working, she had left her office to go downstairs when she heard him come in. Vic sat in the living room watching TV. His eyes didn't move from the screen. “I didn't think you'd miss me.”
“I'm sorry, Vic. I had that meeting at Dana's, and then one of the doctors is getting ready to go on vacation, and he tied up all the loose ends before he left. Patients he's seen but forgotten to dictate, things like that. We notify them every day which patients are missing, but they always wait and do them all at one time, even if it's three months' worth. He insisted on getting them in today so he could sign off on them before he left. If I'd known he was going to do that I'd never have agreed to meet you for dinner.” She deliberately omitted mentioning the fact that she'd had five vodka-and-grapefruits and was knocked out for two hours.