She’d like to tell him a thing or two. He owed her a big apology—not that he’d ever offer one. But thanks to him she now was the target of an assassin.
While waiting for the plane to be gassed up, Dave came over and handed her a paper cup of hot coffee and a Danish pastry packaged in plastic.
“Sorry, this is the best I could rustle up.”
She smiled gratefully. “Thanks.” She took a deep draft of the hot brew. It was perfectly sweetened to her taste. She smiled in appreciation. He hadn’t forgotten.
A short time later they boarded a cargo plane without any further delay and all of them slept most of the way back to the States.
As soon as they landed at Andrews Air Force Base, they were met by the CIA and taken to a room on the base. Same modus operandi, same questions and the same answers from her. The only difference this time was that her interrogators were a Mr. Baker and Mr. Bishop.
By the time Baker and Bishop had finished questioning her, the squad had dispersed. Robert was also nowhere in sight. A polite driver in a black limo drove her home to Georgetown.
Nothing was as comforting as the sight of home. She had a lot to hash out in her mind, but the physical exhaustion and emotional stress of the last few days had drained all her energy. She’d have to think about it tomorrow.
“Now you know how Scarlet felt, Trish,” she murmured.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” the driver said, offering his hand to assist her out of the car.
“Oh nothing. Nothing at all,” she said.
Julie, the maid, and Trish’s dog Ayevol greeted her at the door with his usual enthusiasm. The cocker spaniel’s wagging tail beat a hearty welcome. She wrote a short note to her father, then took a quick shower and climbed into bed.
Ayevol jumped up on the bed and stretched out with his head on her thigh.
“You won’t believe who I’ve been with the last couple of days,” she said, scratching him behind his ears. She rested her hand on the dog’s head. “I was with him, Ayevol. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, sweetheart.” She patted the dog on the head. “After all, ‘tomorrow is another day.’”
Right on, Miss Scarlet.
With a pleased smile, Trish closed her eyes and slept.
The first thing Trish did when she woke up was reach for the telephone and call Deb. She hadn’t spoken to her best friend for a week and could not wait to tell her the news. They agreed to meet for breakfast.
An hour later Trish smiled with pleasure as she watched men’s gazes follow the tall, willowy blonde crossing the floor of the restaurant to join her.
The two women had been inseparable companions since childhood, had attended a Swiss boarding school together in their early teens and later had graduated from Wellesley together. Soon after, Deb had married Dr. Thomas Carpenter, ten years her senior and a successful brain surgeon. Two years ago, she and Deb had formed an interior decorating business, which had begun to build up a respected reputation.
“Darling, you are absolutely glowing,” Deb said when she sat down. “I know it can’t be that you’re pregnant, so what is it?”
The salutation was Deb’s usual greeting to everyone. It was a convenient affectation that she carried off so well that most people never suspected that often it served a double purpose. Through the years, the greeting had become a signal between them for Trish to recognize by the tone of voice in the way she said it, when Deb either liked or distrusted an individual. This had often proven to be very useful in dealing with people, both socially and in business.
“Deb, you are not going to believe this.” With a smug smile, Trish handed Deb a copy of her divorce papers, then sat back and laughed at her friend’s reaction as she perused it.
Deb squealed with joy. “The scourge finally signed the divorce papers!” She glanced at Trish askance. “What did you do, hold a gun to his head?”
“Now you know I’m more up close and personal than that,” Trish teased. “I held a knife to his throat.”
“We’ve got to celebrate this.” Deb motioned to the waiter. “Darling, a couple of Bloody Marys, please.”
“Can’t we settle for orange juice?”
“Not on your life. Tom and I have been waiting for this day as much as you have. Let’s hear all the delicious details.”
Trish told her of her agreement to accompany Robert to Morocco. As much as she hated to withhold anything from her friend, she honored her word to the CIA and kept out of the conversation any mention of their involvement or the rescue by a special ops squad.
Deb whipped out her cell phone. “I’ve got to tell Tom. He’ll be ecstatic.”
“Hold up. I have something more to tell you. I ran into Dave Cassidy.”
Debra’s green eyes widened with disbelief. “You’re kidding! Where?”
Now what? She hated lying to Deb. “He was on the same plane as we were coming back from Germany.” At least that was the truth.
“You mean he came here on business?”
“Apparently he lives here.”
Deb threw her hands up in the air. “Tom and I go away for a week, and this is what happens. Is he married?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t ask!”
“I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.”
“That doesn’t always mean anything. You know some men remove them when their wives aren’t around.”
“Debra, I’m talking about Dave. Mr. Straight-and-Narrow Cassidy.”
“Trish, that doesn’t sound like you. When did you become so cynical?”
She sighed. “Yeah, I know. That’s how my father contemptuously refers to Dave.”
“Henry has his own agenda.” Deb reached over and squeezed her hand. “So how did it go?”
“Horribly.” Trish looked up desolately. “He’s very bitter, Deb. I think he hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you, Trish. Good Lord, anyone who ever saw the two of you together knows Dave could never hate you. He’s probably carrying the same torch that you are, and when he found out you were married, it probably made matters worse.”
“I am not carrying a torch for Dave Cassidy. I just want us to be friends again.”
“Right. He’s as ugly as sin, as mean as a junkyard dog and could never function below the waist, anyway. I’m glad we’ve got that settled. However, darling, having said that, I question if you read his body language correctly. Dave more likely is more jealous than bitter. And if that’s the case, it’s a darn better sign he’s not married than the fact that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.”
“Easy for you to say,” Trish murmured and lowered her head in dejection.
“Did you tell him you’re a free woman now?”
“That would have been difficult to explain since I was with Robert. Besides, I think I’d be wasting my time. He clearly is not interested in having me in his life.”
“You’ll never know unless you try. Don’t you know by now, darling, men don’t understand the game of love. They go blundering through it like storm troopers. It always takes the right woman to explain it to them.”
Laughing, the two women clinked their glasses. “Men,” they said in unison.
“Hey, what is that?” Trish reached over and grabbed Deb’s wrist.