Dying for You

Lucie eyed her friend speculatively. “Without a recommendation from Dundee’s—”

“That’s not a problem.”

“Really? Hmm…Tell me, Daisy dear, just what have you done?”

“Nothing. I simply asked Sawyer about including a letter of recommendation in with your severance package and he okayed it.”

“Did he?” Don’t read anything into it. He’s glad to be rid of you. He’s simply doing what he considers the honorable thing. You know how Sawyer is about right and wrong, all black or all white, no shades of gray. “I should have known that since I wasn’t fired, he probably thought giving me a recommendation was the right thing to do.”

“He got drunk yesterday afternoon,” Daisy said between sips of latte. “I had to drive him home.”

“What!”

“He made a big dent in a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.”

“So, Sawyer really got drunk? I haven’t seen him drunk since—Not in nine years. Not since his brother died.”

“I didn’t know Sawyer had a brother, but then none of us really know him, except maybe you.” When Daisy took a large bite out of her doughnut, the cream center oozed out and stuck to her mouth. Looking right at Lucie, waiting for a response, she licked the gooey filling off her lips.

“I used to know him. Or I thought I did. But I guess everything I thought I knew about him turned out to be wrong.” Except his innate sense of right and wrong, good and bad, innocence and guilt.

“Look, I’m not asking you to betray any confidences. You don’t have to tell me anything. We’ve been friends for years and I’ve never asked, have I?”

“No, you haven’t and I appreciate that. What happened between Sawyer and me…well, it’s better to stay just between the two of us.”

“Sure.” Daisy popped the remainder of the doughnut into her mouth.

“I may ask you about him every once in a while. You won’t mind, will you?”

After she swallowed, Daisy replied, “I’ll give you a weekly report, if that’s what you want.”

Lucie forced a smile, knowing if she didn’t, she would wind up crying. Damn Sawyer McNamara! “No, I don’t want to hear about him that often.”

“Oh, Lucie, honey…”

“It’s not what you think. I’m not in love with him or anything like that.”

“Of course you’re not.”

“I’d be a fool to still care anything about him. And I’m certainly not a fool.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Actually, if I feel anything for him at all, it’s…it’s…Damn! I hate him. I swear I hate him.”

“Yeah, I can tell how much you hate him.”

Lucie glared at Daisy. She grabbed her doughnut off the table and ate it in three huge bites. She washed it down with the latte, then reached over and grabbed the bakery sack. “I wish you’d bought a dozen of these things.” She opened the sack, stuck her hand in and brought out another doughnut.

“Some people use whiskey to drown their sorrows,” Daisy said, far too all-knowing. “And then some of us prefer dulling our pain with sugar.”

“He hates me,” Lucie said. “He can’t bear to be in the same room with me. Every time he looks at me, he has to face his own guilt. Now, he won’t have to do that, not ever again.” She set the latte and doughnut on the table. “Let’s go shopping.” She jumped up and planted her hands on her hips. “Give me thirty minutes to get ready and we’ll head out to Lenox Square. My Macy’s credit card is paid off, so I can buy myself a new outfit for job hunting.”

“What are you waiting for? Go, go. Get ready. Shopping is the next best thing to overdosing on sugar.”

LUCIE HAD SPENT all day Saturday with Daisy. The name Sawyer McNamara had not crossed their lips again. They had shopped until they dropped, had eaten an early dinner out and then seen a movie. Sunday, she had awakened early, dressed and gone for a long walk. Later, she had stripped her bed and remade it with fresh linens, done all her laundry, cleaned the entire apartment and called her grandmother. Nonna lived in Florida, in a retirement village.

“I’m surrounded by the sun, the sea, and lots of senility,” Nonna had joked the last time they’d talked.

She adored her paternal grandmother, Molly O’Riley Evans, from whom she had inherited her height, her curly auburn hair and her Irish temper. Her nonna had raised her while both of her parents worked in the mill, her mother as a secretary and her father as a midnight-shift foreman. And when her parents had died in car wreck when she was twelve, Nonna had packed their bags six months later and moved them to her hometown of Wayside, Mississippi, where Nonna’s three other children lived. It was there that Lucie had met Sawyer and his younger brother, Brenden. And she had fallen in love with Sawyer the moment she saw him. Twenty-three years ago.

Last night she had taken an over-the-counter sleeping pill, so when she woke this morning, she’d had a too-much-sleep hangover. Now, on her second cup of coffee and with her brain starting to function, she sat down in front of her laptop, which was situated on the dining table, and stared at the screen. Even though Daisy told her that she would receive one month’s salary in her severance package, she knew that wouldn’t last more than a couple of months. She had exactly one thousand four hundred and twenty-six dollars in her checking account and many of her monthly bills would come due on the first. Unless she had no other choice, she didn’t want to dip into her retirement fund, which was the only savings she had. Lucie wasn’t good at saving money. She was good at spending it and giving it away.

She needed to find a job, sooner rather than later. She hadn’t worked up a resume in years—nine years to be exact.

So, what were her qualifications? High school degree, college degree, six years with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, nine years with Dundee’s. She supposed she could go into law enforcement again, something local maybe. Or she could check out other private investigation and/or bodyguard firms. Maybe she could move to Florida, somewhere near Nonna. One thing she knew for sure—she was leaving Atlanta. She would do what she should have done nine years ago and put some distance between her and Sawyer.

As she finished off her coffee and was considering a third cup, her phone rang. When she stood up, she glanced at the wall clock. Nine thirty-two. She hurried to pick up the receiver, taking only enough time to glance at the caller ID.

Bedell, Inc.

Who from Bedell, Inc. would be calling her?

“Hello.”

“Ms. Evans, Lucie Evans?” the baritone voice asked.

“Yes, this is she.”

“Lucie, this is Deke Bronson.”

“Oh, Deke, hi there. How are you doing? How are Lexie and the baby?”

“They’re fine. Emma weighs twenty pounds and is almost as beautiful as her mama.” Deke cleared his throat. “You probably know that I took over as head of security at Bedell, Inc., last year when Larry Nesmith retired.”

“Yes, I’d heard. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Look, Lucie, the reason I’m calling is because I heard through the grapevine that you’ve left Dundee’s and might be looking for a job.”

He’d heard that through the grapevine? What grapevine? The Daisy Holbrook grapevine, maybe?

“That’s right,” Lucie said. “I am looking for a job.”

“Would you be interested in working security for us? The pay is probably not quite what you were making at Dundee’s, but we provide a nice package, including three weeks paid vacation after the first year, excellent health care, retirement benefits and bonuses.”

“Yes, I might be interested.”

“Good. Why don’t you drive over to Chattanooga tomorrow and meet with me, say around ten-thirty.”