“I’ll just say you asked for the afternoon off, you’ve gone away for the weekend but I don’t know where. Now don’t forget to turn your cell phone off as well. Or better yet, don’t take it with you.”
“I always take it in the car with me for safety reasons and emergencies. But I’ll definitely leave it turned off all weekend.”
“Excellent.”
When Zoe stood up with the map and the keys in hand, she was struck with a moment’s doubt. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Maybe Drake will get angry and dump me.”
“If he does, then he doesn’t really love you, does he?”
“You’re right.”
“Off you go now. And have fun.”
Zoe didn’t think that was likely. But she smiled. “Thanks again, Fran.”
Fran smiled back. “My pleasure.”
3
MELINDA WAS HOME WHEN Zoe let herself into the apartment. Not an unusual occurrence, even at two on a Friday afternoon.
Melinda was what was often cattily termed a rich bitch. But that wasn’t strictly true. Sure, her father had given her this fully furnished two-bedroom apartment for her twenty-first birthday a couple of years back, but it was no palace, or penthouse.
It was, however, near new, with plush gray carpet, white walls and the sort of sleek modern clean-lined furniture which Zoe loved, so different from the clunky heavy wooden furniture filling the farmhouse back home.
Actually, on the market today, Melinda’s place would have sold for close to half a million. No doubt about that. Even the grottiest apartment in Milson’s Point was worth a packet.
Melinda was a very lucky girl to have received such an expensive present. Unfortunately, despite her darling daddy being a racehorse-owning billionaire, the day Melinda received the keys to the apartment, her allowance had been cut off.
“I’ve given you a roof over your head and that’s all I’m going to do from now on,” her father had bluntly announced at the time. “If you want to feed and clothe yourself in future you’ll have to get a job. Your brother had to make good on his own after twenty-one. I see no reason why you shouldn’t do the same, just because you’re female. You girls wanted equality. Well, now you’ve got it!”
Despite not having any practice at the art of supporting herself—she had done absolutely nothing since leaving school except socialize and shop—Melinda had risen to the challenge with gusto. First, she’d rented out the other bedroom in the apartment—Zoe was not Melinda’s first roommate—then set about finding work as a model. She wasn’t really qualified for anything else, and had no intention of serving in a store or working as a waitress. She wasn’t tall enough for catwalk modeling at only five-eight, but her long blond hair, sultry face and cup-C breasts gave her plenty of work doing photographic modeling for fashion catalogs, especially those of the lingerie variety.
Modeling, however, was just a stopgap. Her ultimate ambition was to marry someone far richer than her father.
But not for some years yet. At twenty-three, Melinda was concentrating on having fun.
And have fun Melinda did! Although Melinda had a steady boyfriend named Ron, she also went out a lot without him. Parties. Premieres. Gallery openings. The races. You name it, if she was asked, Melinda went. And with her looks and social contacts, she received a lot of invitations.
Zoe found her a delightful roommate. Always bright and cheery, and not at all lazy around the place. Which was a surprise, since Melinda had obviously been spoiled rotten as a child. But she liked and valued beautiful things and treated her own little home and her possessions with great respect. Open her closet or drawers any day, and all her lovely things would not only be beautifully arranged, but spotlessly clean. As was the apartment. She never dropped her clothes on the floor, or left dirty crockery around.
Best of all, Melinda didn’t smoke. A rare breed, Zoe had found after sharing places with various other girls over the last few years. Most of them smoked like chimneys. It was so pleasant to come home to nice-smelling rooms, even when all the windows had been shut all day.
When Zoe walked in, Melinda was perched up on one of the white kitchen stools, carefully painting her fingernails at the black granite breakfast bar. She was dressed in traffic-stopping short-shorts and a cropped top, both blue. Melinda just loved blue in clothes. And why not? The color suited her blond hair and blue eyes.
“Good grief!” she exclaimed when she saw Zoe. “Have I lost track of time? Don’t tell me it’s gone six. Ron’s picking me up at seven and I’ve only just started getting ready!”
“Don’t panic. It’s only twenty past two.”
“Thank God. But that’s silly daylight-saving time for you! You never know what time it is by looking out the window. So what are you doing home? You can’t be sick. You never get sick. You’re not sick, are you?” she asked, peering more closely at Zoe whilst she flicked her nails dry. “You do look a bit stressed.”
“No. I’m not sick. Fran gave me an early mark.”
“You’re kidding me. Commandante Phillips let you come home early and you’re not even sick!”
“Nope.” Zoe walked over, dumped her bag on the counter and switched on the electric jug.
Melinda eyed her warily. “This is very strange. So what’s up? Was there a bomb scare at the office? Some disgruntled husband whom your boss screwed over in court?”
“Nothing like that.”
“Then what? The mind boggles over what earth-shattering catastrophe could have led to such an unlikely occurrence.”
“Come now, Mel, Fran’s not that bad. She’s just a hard worker.”
“She works you hard. That I know.”
“But she appreciates the job I do, and she pays me well.”
“Huh.”
“You just don’t like her, do you? Yet you’ve only met her once.”
“Once was enough. That woman is tough as an old boot. Maybe that’s what’s needed to be a top divorce lawyer these days, but I sure as heck wouldn’t want to be married to her.”
Although Zoe thought Melinda was being a bit harsh, her comments brought home the fact that perhaps Fran hadn’t been the best person to go to for advice over her dilemma with Drake. Fran was pretty cynical when it came to her views on life, men and sex. She’d accused Zoe of being a romantic idealist, but Zoe didn’t think it was unreasonable to expect the man you loved and who said he loved you, to be faithful.
“For pity’s sake, are you going to tell me why you’re home early,” Melinda burst out impatiently, “or are you just going to stand there for the rest of the day, staring into space?”
“I don’t have much time,” Zoe said, popping two slices of bread into the toaster. “I have to be packed and gone by three and I’m in desperate need of some food first.”
“Packed? Gone by three? This is getting curiouser and curiouser.”
“If you want to know all the grisly details, then don’t interrupt,” Zoe warned, already sensing that Melinda wasn’t the right person to ask for advice, either. She just didn’t take life and love seriously enough.
Melinda’s big blue eyes rounded with even more gleeful curiosity. “Grisly details! Oooh. Do tell. Sorry,” she said swiftly when Zoe threw her a baleful glance. “I won’t say another word.”
And she made a zipping gesture across her mouth.