Free Dead Heat by Caroline Carver Page B

mother could certainly pull a surprise when she wanted. Turning her mind to practicalities,
     she decided to get some lunch in, rather than rely on Mrs. Scutchings cooking for them. She’d get some snapper or maybe some
     bream. Her mum loved fish.
    Promising to leave Mrs. Scutchings some money to cover her calls, Georgia rang India Kane. It was barely eight o’clock and
     India was, she said sleepily, still in bed. Georgia told the reporter that the aerodrome was shut and some roads still impassable,
     and they arranged to meet at the National Hotel for a drink in the evening. Then Georgia rang her housemate, Annie, and filled
     her in.
    “You mean your plane got trashed into a million pieces and I still don’t get to inherit your estate?”
    Georgia laughed. “Better luck next time.”
    After reassuring Annie she was okay, that she’d be back soon, Georgia hung up and redialed. The line was terrible, but she
     could just make out Maggie’s voice shouting anxiously, “G? G, is that you?”
    Now was definitely not the time to remind her boss not to call her G, which made her sound like a goddamn horse.
    “Yes, it’s me!” she yelled back, and suddenly the line went crystal clear.
    “Ah, that’s better.” Maggie sighed. “Bloody Harbour Bridge always interferes with reception. So, how was the funeral?”
    “More’s happened since then,” she said, and quickly filled her in on the crash.
    “Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?” Maggie sounded shocked and upset.
    She reassured Maggie as she had her housemate, and was reminded of the run-up to Tom’s funeral, where she had spent an inordinate
     amount of time reassuring everyone she was okay when all she wanted was to be left alone. Heavens, reassuring people was just
     so
exhausting.
    Eventually Maggie began to sound relieved, and resumed her normal brisk tone rather than sounding as though she was speaking
     to someone lamebrained and on their deathbed.
    “Well, obviously you won’t be back in time for the conference. We’ll miss you and, dammit, you’ll miss Alan McGary! I’ll get
     him to sign one of his books for you, I know what a fan you are.”
    “Only because he’s gorgeous!”
    “And what would Charlie say about that?”
    “It’s none of Charlie’s business.”
    She heard Maggie’s sigh down the line. “Don’t tell me you two split up.”
    “That’s right.”
    “He proposed again?”
    “For the last time, apparently.”
    “And what’s wrong with being proposed to?”
    “Why do we have to get
married
? What’s wrong with things as they are?” Georgia picked at a desiccated leaf on the spider plant.
    “Some people like a bit of commitment. That’s all.”
    “You sound like Charlie.”
    “It’s not all balls and chains. You might even get to like it. Having someone to depend on, to help out when things get tough.”
    “Now you’re definitely sounding like Charlie.”
    She heard Maggie clear her throat. “Can I announce your promotion at the conference?”
    “No” she said hurriedly. “Sorry, Maggie, but no, you can’t, not yet. I’m still thinking about it.”
    Another sigh. “But what else will you do if you don’t take it? You’ve got to move on, Georgia. You can’t be a rep the rest
     of your life.”
    “But is a promotion the only option? Move up the publishing ladder like a good employee until I drop dead of exhaustion? I
     don’t think I want that.”
    “So what do you want?”
    Georgia picked the dead leaf free and rolled it between her fingers. “I just want something to matter.”
    Maggie gave an impatient snort.
    “Maybe I should go into the desert and eat locusts and find God.”
    This time Maggie laughed. “You’d be bored in two seconds, and if you weren’t, I’d send in the men in white coats. Look, let’s
     discuss this over a meal when you get back. You need anything, call me.”
    “Thanks.”
    “And don’t rush back, Georgia, for God’s sake. There’s absolutely nothing that can’t