Savour the Moment: Now the Big Day Has Finally Arrived, It's Time To... by Nora Roberts

changed your shirt.”
    Something like guilt began to inch up her spine. “I spilled something on it. What is this?”
    “Curiosity.” Parker held out an envelope. “This was on the kitchen counter. Mrs. G gave it to me to give to you.”
    “Well, why didn’t she just ... Oh.” Laurel stopped when she recognized Del’s handwriting.
    “Don’t you want to know what it says? I do.” Parker stood, blocking the way and smiling brightly. “The polite thing would be for me to go back inside, give you privacy when you read it. But, I’m just not that mature.”
    “It’s nothing. Fine.” Feeling foolish, Laurel opened the envelope.
    You might think this is over, but you’d be wrong. I’ve taken your shoes hostage. Contact me within forty-eight hours, or the Pradas get it.
    Laurel made a sound caught between a laugh and a curse as Parker read over her shoulder.
    “He took your shoes?”
    “Apparently. What am I supposed to do about this?” Laurel waved the note. “I’m drifting. I decided I wanted to drift, and now he’s playing games. I just bought those shoes.”
    “How did he get your shoes?”
    “It was nothing like that. I took them off, and then he was there, and I left them after ... Nothing. It was sort of tit for tat.”
    Parker nodded. “Your tit or his tat?”
    “Neither of those, gutter-brain. I apologized for going off on him, but that’s not enough for Del and he started cross-examining me. One thing led to another in the refrigerator. It’s hard to explain.”
    “Obviously.”
    “He’s just being a smart-ass. He can keep the damn shoes.”
    “Really?” Eyes placid, Parker smiled. “Because that would say to me—and probably him—that you’re afraid to deal with it. Him. Any of it.”
    “I’m not afraid—and don’t play that card with me.” Laurel yanked off the towel to rub it furiously over her hair. “I just don’t want to stir anything up.”
    “Because it’s hard to drift when things are stirred up.”
    “Yes. Anyway, I have other shoes. I have better shoes. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of drawing me into his silly game.
    Parker smiled again. “Boys are so lame.”
    Laurel rolled her eyes. “He’s your brother,” she muttered and strode back toward the house.
    “Yes, he is.” And she wondered how long it would take her best friend to crack. “More than twenty-four,” Parker decided, “less than forty-eight.”
    The BlackBerry in her pocket rang. She glanced at the display as she strolled across the lawn. “Good morning, Sybil. What can I do for you?”

CHAPTER SIX

    T HERE WAS ALWAYS A WAY TO GATHER INFORMATION. TO PARKER’S mind, information wasn’t just power; it led the way to efficiency—and in her world, efficiency ruled them all. To get anything done well, and yes, efficiently, you first lined up the details and facts.
    And whenever possible, multitasked.
    The first order of business roughly twenty-four hours into the hostage situation was to tap Del for a ride. It was a simple matter to arrange, particularly since she’d opted to use his mechanic for the regular maintenance check on her car. Malcolm Kavanaugh might have been rough around the edges with a hefty dose of cocky, but he excelled at his work—and that mattered most. It didn’t hurt that he was a friend of Del’s.
    With a weekend packed with events, starting with a rehearsal that evening, she could honestly tell Del she needed the lift, as none of her partners could spare the time.
    It didn’t matter that she could have called half a dozen other people—or a cab for that matter, she thought as she freshened her lipstick. The favor would make Del feel like big brother—a role he enjoyed—and would give her the opportunity to pump him for information since Laurel had clammed up.
    She checked the contents of her bag, then the schedule on her BlackBerry.
    Talk to Del. Pick up car. Meet clients for lunch, pick up dry cleaning, go to market, return by four thirty to prep