Chapters (36)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- Copyright
Happy for the distraction, I unwrapped the paper, then opened the box. Inside was a beautiful, ornate hand mirror. It was oval-shaped with a twisted handle. The frame was tarnished silver that looked almost pewter. I opened the note.
Elise, Happy Day 7
Thank you for an enlightening weekend. I’ve sent you a new mirror. Hopefully it works better than the one you’ve been using.
—Nick
P.S. This is an 1807 antique. The metal is silver. The woman at the antique shop said the best way to clean it is with a cup of white vinegar, a Tbsp of baking soda, and a pinch of salt.
“So what did you get today?” Zoey asked.
I held up the mirror. “A hand mirror. It’s an antique.”
“It’s pretty,” she said simply, then left my office.
About a half hour later I went out to use the bathroom and was in one of the stalls when Zoey and Cathy came in together. It was soon obvious that they didn’t know I was there.
“So what do you think of all this?” Zoey asked.
“All what?” Cathy replied.
“Elise’s sugar daddy.”
“Good for her,” Cathy said. “She needed something. Have you met the guy?”
“No. But I’m not looking forward to it. You know what they say, the amount of money a guy spends on a woman is in inverse ratio to his looks. He’s probably some fat, bald guy with ear hair.”
“At least he’s rich,” Cathy said.
“Rich doesn’t make a man hot,” Zoey said.
“No, but it can hide a lot of ugly,” Cathy said, laughing.
I was furious. I was about to say something I would no doubt regret, but I calmed myself down. I waited until they left before going back to the office. When I got to my desk I looked up Nicholas’s law firm’s number and dialed. A professional voice answered. “Derr, Nelson and McKay.”
“Hi. I’m calling for Nicholas Derr.”
“Just a moment please.”
The music on hold was Rachmaninoff, which I knew only because I was an Eric Carmen fan. A half minute later a young female voice answered, “Nicholas Derr’s office. This is Sabrina speaking. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Sabrina. I’m calling for Nicholas.”
“Mr. Derr is in a meeting right now, may I tell him who’s calling?”
“It’s not important. This is Elise.”
There was hardly a pause. “Elise Dutton?”
I was surprised that she knew who I was. “Yes.”
“Just a moment, please.”
I was on hold for less than ten seconds before Nicholas answered. “Elise.”
“Nicholas, I’m sorry to bother you.”
“I’m pleased you called, unless you called to cancel lunch, in which case, I’m pleased to hear your voice, but not that you called.”
I smiled. “No, I’m not calling to cancel. I just wanted to see if you would do something for me.”
“Name it.”