Free Confessions by Joann Ross Page B

reading his name tag and smiling conspiratorially as she leaned toward him, “would you happen to know how long the senator was upstairs with Ms. Martin?”
    â€œWell.” He raked a hand through his hair and looked around, as if to ensure the manager wasn’t hovering anywhere nearby to observe his indiscretion. “Although I’m not one to spread gossip….”
    After having successfully pumped the desk clerk, Mariah was headed across the plant-filled lobby when she heard a voice call out her name. She turned and saw a vaguely familiar face headed toward her.
    â€œI thought that was you,” the woman exclaimed with a warm, welcoming smile. She embraced Mariah with an enthusiastic air kiss on both cheeks. “Lord, it’s been absolutely ages!”
    â€œAges,” Mariah agreed. She managed a wan smile. “How are you, Freddi? You’re certainly looking well.”
    That was an understatement. Fredericka Palmer definitely did not look like a woman who’d spent her entire life in a small mountain town. Her jet hair curved stylishly beneath her chin in a sleek smooth line as shiny as a raven’s wings. Mariah could not see a single strand out of place.
    Her makeup, like her hair, was flawless. Her turquoise silk blouse, short black leather skirt and buttery soft Italian high heels suggested Neiman Marcus chic.
    â€œAren’t you sweet.” Fredericka’s smile was as bright as the diamonds adorning her earlobes. “Of course I’m just a small-town Realtor. I’ll never be a glamorous television star like you were.” She visibly preened as her dark eyes took a quick, judicial tour of Mariah’s own disheveled state. “But all a girl can do is try her best, right?”
    â€œRight.” Mariah was reminded of the days when Fredericka Palmer had been elected homecoming queen. She hadn’t changed in all these intervening years. All that was missing, Mariah considered, was the rhinestone tiara.
    For not the first time, Mariah wondered what it was that Fredericka and Laura could have in common to have allowed them to stay friends since kindergarten days. It must simply be a case of opposites attracting.
    As for being a small-town Realtor, Mariah knew from Laura that Fredericka had made a fortune subdividing ranch and timber land into recreational developments. Laura had also told her that in addition to the family ranch, the thrice divorced and recently widowed Freddi owned a sprawling home situated on the ninth hole of a prestigious Scottsdale golf course, a beach house in La Jolla and a penthouse apartment on Chicago’s Gold Coast.
    â€œAre you staying here?” Fredericka asked.
    â€œFor now.”
    â€œI’d have thought you might stay at the ranch.” Hervoice went up on the end of the comment, turning it into a question.
    Mariah shrugged. “The senator and I tend to get on each other’s nerves.”
    â€œYou know,” Fredericka lowered her voice as she leaned toward Mariah, “you could have bowled me over with a feather when you called my office out of the blue that way the other day.”
    After the events of the past few hours, Mariah had completely forgotten about that phone call. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to postpone our meeting.”
    â€œOh?” An ebony brow climbed a forehead free of worry lines or wrinkles. “Postpone? Or cancel?”
    â€œI don’t know.” At the time, the impulse to return to Whiskey River had seemed like a good idea. Now, with Laura gone, Mariah realized that there was no longer anything—or anyone—to come home to.
    Laura.
    Pain clawed at Mariah’s heart. She debated breaking the news to Freddi, then decided she wasn’t up to answering the inevitable questions. “I’ll call you,” she hedged.
    â€œI’ll be looking forward to your call.” Freddi’s eyes narrowed as if a thought had suddenly