Second Time Lucky. Debbi Rawlins
of Annabelle. “Hey, Mrs. Albright. I’m not late, am I?”
“Right on time.” She handed him the leash. “A half an hour should tire him out.” She crouched to nuzzle the dog’s bulky neck, her fluid movement that of a much younger woman, a tribute to her early Broadway days. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Muffin? You be a good boy, you hear?”
With hopeful eyes, the dog watched her pass the treats to the teenager, and then happily trotted off alongside the boy. Annabelle continued to watch the pair disappear while Mia found a bench partially shaded by a bare but huge old elm.
“Who’s the boy?” Mia asked, as she brushed off the bench seat.
“Kevin, my neighbor’s son.” Annabelle joined her. “But you’ll walk Mr. Muffin while I’m away on my trip?”
“What trip? You didn’t tell me you were going anywhere.”
“Oh, it’s this cruise.” Annabelle waved a dismissive hand, looking less than thrilled. “I’d promised a friend a few months back.”
“Good for you.” Mia rubbed her friend’s arm. “It’ll be great to get out of the city. Where are you going?”
“I don’t actually know. Hamilton—” She cleared her throat. “—my friend, is in charge of all that.”
Mia hid a smile. So, Annabelle had a gentleman friend who wanted to sweep her away. Which was made all the sweeter since Mia doubted the woman could afford a vacation of any sort otherwise.
Mia opened her bag and gave Annabelle an apple.
“Thank you, dear.” The woman smiled. “You never forget that Granny Smith is my favorite. But I already ate my lunch.”
Mia shrugged. “Save it for later. I bought yogurt, too.”
Annabelle searched Mia’s face, making Mia avert her gaze in case her intentions were too obvious. She guessed the woman was struggling financially, but was too proud to accept charity. Her clothes and shoes were well made and had probably cost a few bucks new, but most of her wardrobe should have been donated years ago. Still, she was always impeccably groomed, her white hair and makeup tended with great care, even her short buffed fingernails were nicely maintained. She clearly took pride in her appearance and even greater pride in remaining self-sufficient. Mia had made the mistake of offering to help buy food and hiring a dog walker for Mr. Muffin, and was abruptly shot down.
“So, tell me what’s on your mind,” Annabelle said with her usual forthrightness.
Mia hesitated. “I hate my job.” There, she’d said it out loud. “I do,” she insisted when Annabelle twisted around to narrow her faded blue eyes on Mia.
“What brought this on?”
“The hours are long. I have no social life.” She shrugged helplessly. “It’s sort of a combination of things.”
Annabelle’s expression softened. “Are you thinking about changing firms?”
A sudden chill breeze made Mia pull the lapels of her suit jacket tighter. “I don’t know that I want to practice law anymore,” she said softly.
Annabelle settled back on the bench and stared off toward the children riding the swings. “That’s a big decision.” Her voice was calm, reasonable, but Mia had seen the alarm flash in her eyes.
She thought Mia was being impulsive. Crazy, really. Who went through three grueling years of law school, was lucky enough to work at a firm like Pearson and Stern, and then walked away from it all? Certainly not a sane person. Her parents were going to have the same reaction. God, she dreaded telling them. This was good practice.
“You’re right. It’s a huge decision. Not one I’m taking lightly.”
“I should hope not.” Annabelle frowned thoughtfully. “What would you do?”
“You’ve heard me mention my friends Lindsey Shaw and Shelby Cain. In college we’d talked about starting a concierge and rental business. Our sorority participated in a fundraiser where we all rented ourselves out for a day to run errands, cook, babysit, host a dinner—whatever the client needed for a specific occasion.” She shrugged. “Not only did we have a blast, but we also could see the potential for some sort of full-service business in Manhattan.”
“Sounds rather dangerous.”
Mia smiled. “We’d make sure our clients are properly vetted. Besides, I figure the larger part of our business will be about renting designer purses and bridal gowns, that sort of thing. If kids from the local colleges want to sign up, we’d hire them for the concierge side. Our motto will be ‘You can rent anything at Anything Goes.’ Hey, maybe you’ll want to rent out Mr. Muffin.”
Annabelle smiled, but her expression remained troubled. “Your friends, they’re willing to quit their jobs and move here?”
Mia sighed. That was going to be tricky. “I haven’t discussed any of this with them yet.”
“Oh…” Annabelle seemed relieved. “So you truly haven’t made up your mind yet.”
The reaction shouldn’t have bothered her, but Mia couldn’t ignore the sense of betrayal she felt. For some reason, she’d thought Annabelle might understand. Here was a woman who’d shunned convention, turned her back on marriage and children in pursuit of her career when women simply didn’t dream of forging their own path.
“No,” she lied. “I haven’t made up my mind.”
“Good. This is a very big decision. You mustn’t be hasty and do anything while I’m gone.” Annabelle reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t walk away because of David.”
Mia jerked back and blinked. “David? Why would you—He has nothing to do with this. I don’t understand why you’d bring him up.”
Contradicting Annabelle’s gentle smile, her eyes gleamed shrewdly. “Of course. Forgive a doddering old lady.”
“David’s my boss, nothing more.”
The woman nodded.
“The only reason you ever heard about him was because we worked a few cases together.” She paused, frustrated that she was feeling defensive. So, she talked about work sometimes. It was only natural that his name had come up. It wasn’t as if the man noticed her. She was just one among the many, a useful tool, a worker bee. He hadn’t even so much as shared a pizza with her when they’d been stuck late at the office. As if there could ever be something between her and David. The idea alone was laughable.
Annabelle lifted her face to the sun, her eyes closed, an annoying smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
1
MIA WAITED UNTIL the waiter had poured the champagne into her friends’ glasses before she raised her flute. “To us,” she said, grinning at Lindsey and Shelby. “We did it.”
“Yes, we did,” Lindsey agreed, her mouth twisting wryly and her expression not looking quite as enthusiastic as Mia’s or Shelby’s. “We now owe more money than any three twenty-eight-year-old women should owe in their lifetimes.”
Shelby laughed and downed her champagne.
“You’re such a pessimist.” Shaking her head, Mia elbowed her. “If we didn’t think we could make a go of this, none of us would’ve signed on the dotted line, much less have quit our jobs.”
“You did?” Lindsey’s eyes widened. “Seriously? You’ve turned in your resignation already?”
“It’s typed up and will be on my boss’s desk tomorrow morning.” Mia swallowed around the lump in her throat, the one that seemed to swell every time she thought about pulling out all of her savings and having no income until their new venture turned a profit. She glanced at Shelby. “What about you?”
“I