“Don’t worry, just give me the keys,” Fran said as she picked up her phone and dialed her assistant. “Kenneth, come in here please.”

Before Fran hung up the phone, Kenneth walked into the room. “Yes, Miss Neary.”

Holding out the keys, she said, “There’s a Ferrari parked in Addison’s reserved spot. I want you to move it into the garage under the building, then call Millie and ask her to have one of Addison’s chauffeurs pick it up.”

“Right away, Miss Neary,” Kenneth said. Snatching the keys from her hand, he quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Returning her focus to Joanna, Fran said, “Now that we have that taken care of, we can talk about the rest of our day.”

“Our day?”

“Yes,” Fran said as she reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out her handbag. “Since this fiasco about your bank accounts is Addison’s fault, the least she can do is pay for everything.”

“What?”

“I happen to have a hair appointment this morning, so why don’t you come with me and...um...and get a trim, and afterward we can go shopping. I do have a corporate card, and I’m more than willing to use it.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I insist,” Fran said, looking at her watch as she got to her feet. “And we really need to go. My appointment’s at ten.”

“Fran, I really appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I doubt that wherever you go to get your hair cut takes walk-ins.”

Rolling her eyes, Fran led Joanna out of the office without saying a word.

***

There are a lot of words in the English language to describe velocity. Torrents of rain, stampedes of animals, squalls of snow, and gusts of wind all embellish the act, but when it comes to Joanna’s outing with Fran, one word said it all. Spree.

Their first stop was Fran’s favorite upscale hair and beauty salon, and although Joanna had insisted on no special treatment, and apologized profusely for not having an appointment, but when you’re the wife of Addison Kane, you need no appointment. The owner of the salon waved off her concerns with a flick of his wrist and within minutes, clientele having appointments made months in advance were shuffled about as the most educated of stylists, colorists, manicurists, makeup, and skin care experts were led to the private room containing Mrs. Addison Kane. Even though her clothes were still dowdy, when Joanna and Fran left three hours later, heads turned...and it wasn’t because of Francesca Neary.