The Consequences by Colette Freedman Page A

Burroughs.”
    â€œStephanie, how wonderful to hear from you!” If her boss was surprised, it certainly didn’t show in his voice.
    â€œI’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday,” she began. She tossed the suitcase on the bed and snapped open the locks. She’d hadn’t used half of the clothes she’d packed. Except for Christmas Day when she’d dressed up, she’d worn the clothes she’d left in Wisconsin on her previous visits. She lifted the unworn little black dress and decided she needed to drop it off just up the street at Classic Cleaners before she could wear it again.
    â€œYou can call me at any time. That’s why I entrusted you with my home number.” Charles Flintoff was the man who had discovered Stephanie, and he always treated her as a special protégée, but she knew her relationship with him had been damaged when he had discovered that not only was she having an affair with Robert—a contractor—but that she had awarded R&K Productions with three lucrative contracts. It would take her a long time to rebuild his trust in her.
    â€œThank you. I’m literally just back—I visited my parents for Christmas,” she explained, also letting him know that she had not spent Christmas with Robert, “and I’ve just found out that Jimmy Moran died on Christmas Day. I wasn’t sure if you knew.”
    There was a pause. Then Charles Flintoff cleared his throat. “No, I didn’t. Thank you for telling me. Jimmy Moran—I got to know him when I first opened the Irish branch of the agency. We even worked together on a couple of campaigns, and of course I saw him all the time at various events, though I haven’t used him in a long time. Poor Jimmy. So much talent and good, creative energy. Wasted. Do you know anything about the funeral arrangements?”
    â€œThe removal of the remains happened today, but I have no idea when the funeral will take place.”
    â€œProbably not tomorrow.” She heard the sound of a page turning and guessed he was checking a calendar. “Monday or Tuesday.” He sighed. “I should go and represent the firm. The funeral will be well attended. Despite his faults, or perhaps because of them, Jimmy had a lot of friends. I’d imagine some of his enemies will turn up too—just to make sure the old reprobate is in the ground.” He paused. “If you have no other plans, perhaps you’d like to represent the firm with me?”
    â€œYes . . . yes, I would. Thank you.” She was surprised by the offer, pleased too.
    â€œCall me when you have the details. Now, if you’ve just come back from visiting your family, you probably need some rest.”
    â€œI’m going to do that now. Thank you.”
    Charles Flintoff hung up, and Stephanie sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the phone, wondering what he would say when she told him that she was pregnant.
    And that reminded her . . .
    She needed to get to her doctor. Would anyone be open over the weekend? Probably not. Maybe Izzie could convince one of her OB friends over at Mass General to examine her. She was just about to call Izzie when the wan afternoon sunlight flashed across the windshield of a car as it approached across the courtyard and pulled up outside the building.
    Stephanie darted into the living room, scooped up the dead flowers, gathered up the curled and brittle petals, carried them into the kitchen, and dumped them in the trash. Then she grinned; now, if that wasn’t a symbolic gesture, then she didn’t know what was. She wondered if he would use his key or . . .
    The doorbell rang.

CHAPTER 18

    â€œH i, Stef.”
    Robert’s appearance shocked her. He looked terrible, skin pale and lightly sheened with sweat; his hair was greasy, and there were deep bags under his bloodshot eyes. His black suit was rumpled and creased. There was a dark stain around the collar of his pale blue