Free Second Chance Love by Shawn Inmon Page B

the wreckage, blood running down his forehead from a gash in his scalp, screaming drunkenly that his foot had slipped off the clutch and his brakes had failed. An innocent mistake, he insisted. Could’ve happened to anybody.
    A jury had not concurred. The lack of premeditation had ruled out first degree murder charges, but the judge decided that Bill's five previous drunk driving convictions had bearing upon the outcome. His Honor handed down an exceptional sentence of thirty-five years, the maximum the law allowed.
    Bill Coleman was no longer serving his sentence, though. Within three years, he was dead of kidney failure and cirrhosis. The impact on his family, of course, survived him, as did his impact upon his victims' families.
    And now. Now here was Chelsea talking about it like it had just happened. Elizabeth could feel her face growing hot. She remembered Helen Scott's words about the gossip. Yes, I see exactly what she is doing. I have had enough of it and her, and this pretentious crowd of people, and people buying expensive weekends without the simple damn courtesy of asking me first.
    The waiter appeared over Elizabeth’s shoulder and asked, “More Perrier, ma’am?” That caused Chelsea to look up from her conversation, meeting Elizabeth's eye. Chelsea feigned shock and embarrassment at being caught in the act of gossiping, but her eyes were smug and cruel.
    That's it. Elizabeth felt her anger boil over. She stood up so quickly she nearly knocked her chair over. She snatched her wrap off the back of her chair, shot Chelsea a look that would have withered plants, and strode toward the door, leaving a buzz of conversation in her wake. She walked as quickly to the entrance as her heels would allow. Once outside, Elizabeth pulled the wrap around her. It wasn’t enough for a January night, but the burning fury inside her shut out the cold. Now that she had made her escape, she didn’t know what to do. Home was close to five miles away, a long walk in plummeting temperatures. Still, with no cab fare, there was nothing else for it.
    As she walked along the edge of the building and past Valet Parking, she saw a small bank of payphones recessed into an alcove, a reminder of an earlier decade. Elizabeth stepped into the alcove to get out of the wind, opened her small clutch and searched the bottom for coins, eventually fishing out two dimes and a nickel. She lifted the receiver, deposited the coins, and had a small panic attack when she couldn't remember the number. After fifteen seconds, it surfaced in her mind, and she punched it into the keypad.
    After three rings, she heard a voice answer, “Hello? Somebody better have a damn good reason for interrupting me watching Titanic again, because…”
    “Gail, it’s Elizabeth. I’m in front of the Men’s Athletic Club downtown and I’m stuck. Can you come get me?”

 
    Chapter Eleven
     
    Steve returned to find their table empty. Assuming Elizabeth had gone to the ladies' room, he sat and waited. When fifteen minutes had gone by, he began to worry.
    Thom Goodson tapped on the microphone and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re almost ready to resume our live auction, so let’s have everyone return to your seats. We’ll be getting started in two minutes.”
    Steve looked at the table behind him and saw Chelsea Stanton. “Chelsea, have you seen Elizabeth?”
    “She ran out of here a few minutes ago. She seemed upset.” Her face was pure ignorance and innocence.
    Steve’s eyes narrowed. He knew Chelsea too well. “What did you do?”
    “Oh, Steve, get off your high horse. We were just laughing and having fun, and she was eavesdropping on us and got upset.”
    “Chelsea, if I find out you had something to do with this, if you’re playing your little games like usual, I…”
    Chelsea stood quickly, her face flushed with a toxic combination of anger and alcohol. “You’ll what, Steve? Never return my calls? Too late!”
    Steve shook his head in infinite