target="_blank" rel="nofollow" href="#ucaf711b8-100f-5b56-a2d5-c3a43fa435ba">Chapter 30
Sunday, October 5
When the alarm blared the Sunday financial recap, the woman woke with a start. She didn’t care about the Dow Jones Industrial Average, nor did she care about market volatility. Fumbling, she unplugged the old-fashioned clock radio and tossed it under the bed. Her thoughts, as they often did, went to her lover. She rolled over and pressed her face into his pillow, taking in the scent of him, that strange concoction of vanilla and citrus that made her senses reel.
Rolling over on her back, she took a deep breath, and cradled her belly, thinking of the baby that grew inside her. The positive pregnancy test lay on the table next to her, its vertical pink line a source of unimaginable joy. She snuggled under the duvet as the automatic coffeemaker kicked into gear, filling her apartment with the aroma of the dark roast coffee her lover preferred.
She saw the card on the doormat just as she poured her first cup of coffee.
I’ve rented a beach house for us tonight. I’ll send a key and the address by messenger. Meet you there around ten?
Leaning back against the counter, the woman closed her eyes, anticipating their rendezvous. Dear God, she craved him.
She did not know she had less than fifteen hours to live.
Friday, October 10
Olivia Sinclair’s life fell apart on the day of her sixty-second birthday. The morning started with promise. She and Richard lay entangled in the sheets, their limbs intertwined and glistening with sweat. Olivia marveled – as she often did – at the way their passion had withstood decades of marriage. Somehow, she and Richard had managed to keep passion alive.
“Happy birthday, beautiful.” Richard ran his fingers along her side, taking his time at the curve of her hip. “I’ve got something for you.”
Olivia watched her husband, his body still athletic and strong as he moved to the dresser and opened the top drawer. When he turned to face her, he held a familiar blue Tiffany box.
“This is for you, for your birthday and your retirement, a celebration of your accomplishments, if you will. I don’t tell you this enough, but I’m proud of you, Liv.” Richard always gave Olivia jewelry from Tiffany’s at birthdays and Christmas. This year’s gift was a platinum necklace, the pendant an antique skeleton key studded with diamonds.
“It’s beautiful,” Olivia said. She held up the platinum key to the morning light, the sunbeams making the diamonds dazzle.
Richard took it from her. “Let me help you put that on.” He hooked the clasp and kissed the back of her neck. “When do you and Claire sign your paperwork?”
“She’s coming in today. I’m going to ask for all the changes you suggested. Assuming she agrees, we’ll wrap things up.
“She’s got the capital?”
“She does. I think she’s probably borrowing the money, but she’ll be fine.”
Richard ran his fingers through Olivia’s thick hair. “I hear she’s a go-getter. Are you okay with walking away from all that success, the notoriety?”
“Notoriety? That’s your department. You’re the television legal guru. I just help beleaguered women get their fair share.”
Richard laughed.
“At least we can travel now, or at least I can come with you when you go away for weeks on end for depositions and trials,” Olivia said.
“That’s great, honey.”
“We need to talk about your plans, Richard. Do you have any idea when you might walk away from Rincon Sinclair?”
Richard turned to Olivia. “I’m not ready, Liv. Not now. Maybe a year or two?”
“That long?”
“We’ll talk about it later, okay?”
Olivia recognized this ploy. We’ll talk about it later meant they wouldn’t talk about it again until Richard was good and ready. She was about to push him, wrangle a commitment to retire out of him, when the alarm by his side of the bed started blaring the morning news.
“You shower first. I’ll make the coffee.” Richard tied his bathrobe around his waist and turned off the radio. “Are you sure you don’t mind cooking tonight? It’s your birthday.”
“I’m sure,” Olivia said. “I want to cook dinner for my family.”
“Maybe you can strike a truce with our son-in-law,” Richard said.
Olivia held her hand over her heart. “I swear, I’ll try.”
As she headed into the shower, she thought of the promise of freedom, and the time she would have to garden, travel with Richard, and tackle her toppling To-Be-Read pile of books.
After Richard left, she took her time over the morning paper and was going over her calendar when the front door opened and Denny called out, “Hello? Anyone here?”
“In the kitchen,” Olivia said.
Her daughter stepped into the kitchen, a sweet smile on her face, her golden hair cascading around her shoulders, a huge bouquet of flowers in her hand.
“Happy birthday, Mom.” Denny kissed Olivia’s cheek before pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Thanks, honey.” Olivia watched her daughter over the rim of her cup, trying to ignore the dark circles under Denny’s eyes and the tight lines around her mouth.
“How’s David?”
Denny smiled to take the edge off her words. “Come on, Mom. We both know you don’t care a bit about my husband. But he’s fine, thank you very much.”
She set her coffee cup on the table and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, a gesture that reminded Olivia of Denny when she was an outspoken, opinionated little girl. Richard and Denny would debate at the dinner table, Richard subtly teaching his daughter to argue like a pro. Olivia