wasn’t the kind of man who liked everything planned out. She would just have to get used to it. On the way home, he’d bought a bottle of French champagne to celebrate with, and while they were drinking it, they’d ordered a pizza. All in all, her wedding had been crazy and silly, even a little tacky at times, but also meaningful and loving, something she’d remember until her dying day.
“Good morning to you, Mrs. Banks,” said Phil, pulling the breakfast tray closer to him. “What should we do today?” He picked up a slice of toast, gave her the first bite, then finished it. “I know I didn’t say anything about a honeymoon. That’s because I’m not sure when I can get away. Actually, I should probably go in to work this morning and look at my schedule. Then we can talk about it. Hey, we could rent a yacht and sail the Caribbean. Have you ever been on a yacht?”
She shook her head.
“Think you’d like it?”
“Sure!”
“Or,” he said, kissing the side of her neck, “we could fly to Paris for a few days, then head south and spend some time on the Riviera.”
Her eyes were filled with stars. She never thought she’d ever have enough money to do anything like that.
“Well, we’ll talk about it later, okay?”
She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. “Say it again.”
“What?”
“ Mrs. Banks.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her softly. “I adore you, Mrs. Banks. Get used to it. You’re going to hear that a lot from now on.”
The moment Phil left, Chris was on the phone to her mother. But her mother wasn’t home. This wasn’t the kind of news you left on an answering machine, so she decided to call back later. Or maybe she’d stop by her mom’s apartment, tell her in person. And if she did that, she could show off her new rings.
Chris was still sitting with the phone in her hand when it rang. Thinking it might be Phil, she answered it without checking the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Phil Banks, please.” It was a male voice. One she didn’t recognize.
“He’s not here. But I’m his wife. Can I take a message?”
“His wife, huh? What’s your name?”
“Chris.”
“So tell me, Christine—it is Christine, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I prefer Chris.”
“What’s Phil’s cell phone number?”
She didn’t like the man’s tone. Phil had told her more than once never to give strangers information about him. “He’s out. That’s all I can say.”
“Out where? Is he at work? I tried over there a few minutes ago and he wasn’t in.”
“Who’s calling?”
“When will he be back?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re his wife and you don’t know when he’ll be back?”
Now she was getting angry. “Look, if you’d like to leave a message—”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get all hot and bothered. Just tell your husband Del called. Oh, and while you’re at it, tell him I know what he’s got stored on Old Mill Road. That should get his attention. If he doesn’t want other people to find out, he better be home the next time I call.”
“What’s on Old Mill Road?”
“Gee, Christine. I don’t know. I can’t say. I have temporary amnesia, just like you.”
“What do you want?”
“Actually, to give you a small warning. Be careful, Christine. Your husband’s not a nice man. In fact, he’s a very very bad man.”
“What do you mean?”
But it was too late. He’d already hung up.
16
Sophie spent the next couple of hours in her office at the Maxfield. The work stacked up on her desk was enough to keep her busy for the next year, but Rudy phoned around ten and said that Andy had called a full staff meeting for all newspaper employees at eleven. He figured it was something Sophie might not want to miss.
He was right. She quickly returned to her apartment, changed into her power clothes—fitted black skirt and blazer, and three-inch heels, the shoes that helped her feel less like a shrimpy twelve-year-old and more like a mature
“Good morning to you, Mrs. Banks,” said Phil, pulling the breakfast tray closer to him. “What should we do today?” He picked up a slice of toast, gave her the first bite, then finished it. “I know I didn’t say anything about a honeymoon. That’s because I’m not sure when I can get away. Actually, I should probably go in to work this morning and look at my schedule. Then we can talk about it. Hey, we could rent a yacht and sail the Caribbean. Have you ever been on a yacht?”
She shook her head.
“Think you’d like it?”
“Sure!”
“Or,” he said, kissing the side of her neck, “we could fly to Paris for a few days, then head south and spend some time on the Riviera.”
Her eyes were filled with stars. She never thought she’d ever have enough money to do anything like that.
“Well, we’ll talk about it later, okay?”
She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. “Say it again.”
“What?”
“ Mrs. Banks.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her softly. “I adore you, Mrs. Banks. Get used to it. You’re going to hear that a lot from now on.”
The moment Phil left, Chris was on the phone to her mother. But her mother wasn’t home. This wasn’t the kind of news you left on an answering machine, so she decided to call back later. Or maybe she’d stop by her mom’s apartment, tell her in person. And if she did that, she could show off her new rings.
Chris was still sitting with the phone in her hand when it rang. Thinking it might be Phil, she answered it without checking the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Phil Banks, please.” It was a male voice. One she didn’t recognize.
“He’s not here. But I’m his wife. Can I take a message?”
“His wife, huh? What’s your name?”
“Chris.”
“So tell me, Christine—it is Christine, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I prefer Chris.”
“What’s Phil’s cell phone number?”
She didn’t like the man’s tone. Phil had told her more than once never to give strangers information about him. “He’s out. That’s all I can say.”
“Out where? Is he at work? I tried over there a few minutes ago and he wasn’t in.”
“Who’s calling?”
“When will he be back?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re his wife and you don’t know when he’ll be back?”
Now she was getting angry. “Look, if you’d like to leave a message—”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get all hot and bothered. Just tell your husband Del called. Oh, and while you’re at it, tell him I know what he’s got stored on Old Mill Road. That should get his attention. If he doesn’t want other people to find out, he better be home the next time I call.”
“What’s on Old Mill Road?”
“Gee, Christine. I don’t know. I can’t say. I have temporary amnesia, just like you.”
“What do you want?”
“Actually, to give you a small warning. Be careful, Christine. Your husband’s not a nice man. In fact, he’s a very very bad man.”
“What do you mean?”
But it was too late. He’d already hung up.
16
Sophie spent the next couple of hours in her office at the Maxfield. The work stacked up on her desk was enough to keep her busy for the next year, but Rudy phoned around ten and said that Andy had called a full staff meeting for all newspaper employees at eleven. He figured it was something Sophie might not want to miss.
He was right. She quickly returned to her apartment, changed into her power clothes—fitted black skirt and blazer, and three-inch heels, the shoes that helped her feel less like a shrimpy twelve-year-old and more like a mature
Similar Books
