Free Truly, Madly by Heather Webber Page A

see if he truly affected me the way I thought he did.
    I shoved open the door to Valentine, Inc., and stopped dead in my tracks.
    ''You're late,'' Dovie said, eyeing the antique mahogany longcase clock standing regally in the corner of the room.
    ''What are you doing here?''
    I couldn't believe Dovie was even functioning this morning, as someone who'd probably drunk her fair share of three bottles of wine.
    ''Suzannah called me. She took the day off to keep searching for the little boy.''
    ''And she didn't call me?''
    ''She tried. Your home line was busy, and your cell is off.''
    Busy? I hadn't been on the phone that morning. Then it hit me—Grendel. One of his favorite games was knocking my phone off the hook. I checked my cell. Sure enough, it was off. In addition to Suzannah's call, I'd also missed one from my mother. She'd left a quick message about changing hotels but didn't mention why.
    ''Suz called me after that.'' Dovie shuffled a pile of papers. ''I'm glad she did. This is an opportunity I'm not going to waste.''
    There was no doubt in my mind that Dovie would rat me out to my father for being late. She wanted my job, after all. For a second I pondered why she hadn't woken me up to come with her into the city. But I knew the answer—I would have put up a fuss about her taking over Suz's job. This way, Dovie got her way.
    Grinning at me, she picked a piece of lint off navy blue pleated trousers that had been tailored to fit her thin frame. A crisp striped oxford, sleeves cuffed, had been left untucked, the top four buttons undone, revealing a white lace camisole beneath. Her usual assortment of bangles slid up and down her arm. Two chopsticks held her hair back in a twist. Green eyes shone with excitement, and the last thing I wanted to do was burst her bubble.
    ''Did you run your temp job by Dad?''
    She cringed at the words ''temp job,'' but my concerns were swatted away with a wave of her hand. ''Hooey. I gave birth to your father. I hold majority in this family.''
    I smiled. I loved when Dovie made a stand. Even though once my father found out about her involvement in the office he might have himself another heart attack. Dovie tended to . . . complicate things.
    ''And you need the help. Admit it. Without Suz here, you're lost.''
    I had a feeling I'd be more lost with Dovie running things.
    I didn't mention so. Some things were better left unsaid. Especially when the person hurt by those words was your landlady.
    ''You don't have to look so worried,'' she said. ''I'm just going to sit here behind the desk, answer the phone, talk to clients, look divine—don't you love the shirt?—and mind my own business.''
    I was in serious trouble when my father found out about this.
    ''The shirt is nice. Chanel?''
    ''Dior.''
    My budget for designer clothes was practically nonexistent, though I always bought classic pieces. They were pricey but didn't need to be replaced every year. Today I'd thrown on a pair of cream dress pants, a brown cashmere sweater, and brown kitten-heeled boots I'd found on sale at Macy's. Not bad, but certainly not on the level of Chanel or Dior. But that was the choice I'd made when I'd given up my trust fund.
    I closed the door and noticed Dovie had already started the fire in the fireplace. Flames licked the ceramic logs. The pillows on the couches had been fluffed, awaiting the first clients of the day.
    A flash of panic swept over me. Could I really do this? Look how my first day had gone, after all. Sure, a few of my meetings had been cut-and-dried. But then there had been Michael Lafferty and the skeleton I'd seen.
    Sooner or later, I was going to have to deal with that body, and I could imagine how that would affect business and the family reputation. I needed the police to ''find'' the body without them knowing I was involved. And I had to come up with a plan to protect the company and myself.
    I was lost in the notion of Valentine, Inc., failing under my watch when my grandmother's sharp