“Oh.” Kristin nodded in Donna’s direction. “I’m sure she’d understand. My great-aunt is at Fairfield. Her name’s Audrey Ledbetter.”

“Audrey? She’s, um, something else. A nice lady.” I hoped I sounded sincere. “It’s not so much that I’m sick and running around when I should be home. I don’t want her to know I’m a customer here.” The thought of Donna discovering my Violet money made my stomach clench.

If that puzzled Kristin, she didn’t show it. “Aunt Audrey is a pill,” she said. “All of us would visit more often if she’d stop complaining as soon as we arrive.” She looked Donna’s way, and we both realized she was about to pass us on her way out, fifteen feet across the lobby. I pretended to drop something and ducked to the floor, wondering if Kristin had heard about Audrey’s vines.

“You can sit up now. She’s gone. And don’t worry—you have banker/client confidentiality. I promise to be discreet if you promise me chicken soup if I get your cold.” She grinned and opened her desk drawer, pulling out a package of B-12 supplements with echinacea. “Here, take two of these. I swear by them. Haven’t been sick in three years.”

“Wow, thanks. I’ll be going now.” I stood and knocked her crystal bowl to the floor, scattering M&Ms for miles. Every head in the place turned to gape. Kristin jumped up, her hand a stop sign.

“No, I’ll get them! Have a great day, Ronni. This is for you, with our thanks.” She held out a green tote bag filled with First National souvenirs; a purse mirror, several pens, a travel mug and the pile of paperwork.

I stepped into the sunshine and rounded the corner to find a man standing next to Ruby, shaking his head.

He was gorgeous—liquid chocolate eyes, thick brown hair and a good six inches taller than me. Looked like he spent lots of time in the sun; the tan was nice. I guessed he was somewhere between thirty-five and forty, a good bit older than anyone I’d dated. Mystery Man smiled, revealing perfect teeth and, I supposed, a personal trail of broken hearts.

“Is this your car?” he asked. “Somebody hit you and drove off. I got a partial plate.”

Ruby was injured? I came up beside him. There was a massive scrape of yellow paint down her fender.

“Oh, great,” I sighed. “I really didn’t need this today.”

“Aww, it could be worse.” I pegged his drawl to the more rural portions of the state. “Don’t you worry. There’s a crappy little Toyota with a glass pack fixin’ to be pulled by a sheriff’s deputy a mile or two from here.”

“You’re a cop?”

“Yep, name’s Rick O’Shea.” He shook my germy hand.

“Ricochet? That’s...”