Retirement Plan by Martha Miller Page A

winding down.
    Sophie met her eyes. Today, behind her dark-rimmed glasses, they were cornflower-blue.
    Finished with the usual lament, Lois said, “I just wonder how long and how much I have to pay for not letting that baby die with her mother.”
    Sophie covered her ears. “Get over it, Lois. I refuse to listen to this today. This is my home too. I raised that child and she is my daughter as much as yours. She will come home, and I will do what I can to help her.”
    The wooden chair scraped on the floor as Lois stood and flung her paper napkin over her half-eaten breakfast. “Why are we talking about this if you’ve made up your mind?” Not waiting for an answer, she strode across the kitchen, opened the door to the mudroom, and grabbed her coat.
    “Wait,” Sophie called.
    Lois stopped and turned. Through the open door, cold air penetrated the warmth of the kitchen. Lois had her coat and was pulling it on. “I love you,” she said in a tone that didn’t sound loving. “And you know I’ll do what I can to make you happy—even this business with Ruby. But you haven’t considered some things. What about our new business? How does Ruby fit into any of that? Don’t you think the parole board would have a problem with her living with hired assassins?”
    Before Sophie could answer, Lois pulled the kitchen door shut and the back door slammed. They both knew she wasn’t going anywhere. She would cross the backyard and check on Daisy. She might play with the dog or walk her. When she was ready to come back inside her anger would have abated. Sophie had won the argument before it started. What Lois had said was true; if Sophie wanted something, she got it. But Lois had certainly brought up something to consider.
    How would they go on contract-killing with a newly paroled daughter living in their home? A daughter who would be under close scrutiny—visits from a parole officer.
    Sophie gathered the breakfast dishes. She’d make a plate of leftovers for the dog. That would please Lois.

    *
            
    Now I’m absolutely alone, Morgan thought. Without Henry, work would be a lonely place. Visits to her mother were already sordid and draining. As she got out of her car, she noticed the first evening star in the cold sky. Wind scattered snowflakes across the small parking lot that Big and Beautiful shared with a tax-consulting business next door. Piles of snow were like white waves of a white sea. She had to maneuver a drift before she could climb the three steps that led to the door. When she walked inside, she hit a wall of heat.
    Two very tall, thickset men stood between the dress aisles arguing over what looked like a large purple bridesmaid’s dress. A woman sat near the register, a book laid open on the counter in front of her. She wasn’t pretty in an ordinary sense, with her flat gray eyes and shoulder-length dark hair. Looking up, she met Morgan’s gaze and blinked as if a bright light had been switched on. “May I help you?”
    “Is Sandy here?”
    “Naw. There’s a show tonight at Tallulah’s. I’m covering his shift for him.”
    “Oh.”
    “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I can help you.”
    She wanted Sandy, damn it to hell. She said, “He took me in back and found some clothes my size.”
    The woman gave her a rather beguiling smile, came from behind the counter, and motioned for Morgan to follow her. She called to her customers, “I’ll be in the back room.”
    Morgan followed her through the door and shrugged out of her coat. Turning to the woman, Morgan said, “I need some dress pants and jeans.” In this store, she was small, which delighted her.
    “There’s a stack of jeans over there.” The woman pointed to the opposite side of the room. “Take a look.”
    Morgan started digging. Some of the jeans’ sizes weren’t marked. “May I try them on? I suspect my size has changed.”
    “Bathroom’s over there.”
    Morgan sat on the lid to the stool and pulled off her