Identity

Too drunk, too dazed from the blow to put up much of a fight, she just batted her hands at him, gurgled while a Cajun accordion went into a long, hot riff that pulsed against the bathroom walls.

He watched her die, waited for that buzz. And when he felt no more than a faint tingle of satisfaction, he punched her again.

“Bitch.” He slammed her head against the side of the stall as he pulled off the small, cross-body bag she wore.

He tucked it into the back of his waistband and left her on the floor of the stall. When he went out again, the music still pumped, people continued to dance, and the brunette cackled at something the college-boy types said.

He wanted to kill her, too, just for being there, for having the right body but the wrong hair color.

After tossing the sunglasses, he walked another block, pulled off the cap, let it land on the sidewalk where he assumed someone would grab it up.

As he walked, he imagined the screams, the chaos when the next woman stepped into that hole-in-the-wall’s bathroom. That, at least, gave him a little satisfaction. And wouldn’t the brunette feel guilty? Flirting with drunks at the bar while her friend got herself murdered.

More satisfaction.

He decided the effort hadn’t been wasted. Trying new things never hurt. He’d killed someone in a public place, so points for him.

Obviously, he needed to pick another target. He had other choices, and selecting Boring Robin from them just hadn’t done the job.

Morgan would, no question of that.

But not yet, he thought as he walked back into his hotel.

Because when her turn came around again, he had to make it very, very special.



* * *



In the blooming time of May, Morgan’s budget spreadsheet looked more promising. Maybe, she thought, life in general looked more promising. A good job with good tips provided her with more free time than she’d enjoyed in the previous decade.

She put it to good use.

When she heard her ladies talk about updating the powder room, she took a look at it herself. Some measurements, a trip to the hardware store, and a few hours’ work would handle it.

She had nearly all the finishing touches in place when they got home.

“Morgan, we’re home! What a day,” Audrey continued. “A wine-with-dinner sort of day.”

Morgan stepped back from straightening out the prints she’d hung and picked up the garden tub she’d used as a makeshift toolbox.

“Do you have time to eat before you—” As she passed by the open powder room door, Audrey stopped, stared, and actually let out a little squeal. “What— How did you— Oh my God, Mom, come see this.”

“See what? I need to get these damn shoes off.”

Then she, too, stopped at the doorway. After a long blink, she folded her arms. “Well, well,” she said.

“Okay, I know you planned to call your handy guys, pick out a new sink, update the fixtures, paint, and so on, but it’s a really small job, and the sink’s great.”

She ran a hand over the old-fashioned white porcelain.

“The chrome legs were dated, and the fixtures. I thought painting the legs matte black, getting the new faucet in the same finish showed it off. And with the walls this fresh blush color, it’s like a little girly drama, especially with the bit of bling on the new light, and this old mirror I found in the attic. You’ve got a lot of great stuff up there.”

“I bought that mirror before Audrey was born,” Olivia murmured.

“And it’s great, just needed some cleaning up. And painting the frame black ties it in. A couple of new guest towels on the black bar for fresh. I stole one of your African violets for the windowsill, picked up a new shade for the light. The fringe is like bling. I got the pretty soaps and the two prints from the shop. The little rug’s from the flea market, but I thought the fact it’s faded some added character.”

Concerned she’d gone too far, Morgan shifted the garden tub. “Anyway, if it doesn’t work for you, you can still call the handy guys.”

“I love it. Mom, look how these sweet flower prints pick up the pink and black. It’s all adorable. Classy, just a little girly, and adorable. Where did you learn to install faucets?”

“I learned a lot at my day job in Maryland.”

“It was already in there.” Arms still folded, Olivia studied the walls. “Got it from your grandfather. It’s not what I imagined, and I thought that sink had seen its last days.”

“It’s a wonderful piece.”

“It is now. It’s not what I imagined. It’s better. Now, I want to know what you spent on all this.”

“I live here, too. I use this bathroom. And I enjoyed every minute of fixing it up.”

“It’s a gift, Mom.” Audrey put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Someone always told me to be gracious when offered a gift.”

“Bit in the butt by my own words. Thank you, Morgan. Your grandfather’s toolbox is up in the woodshop. You get that, and use it.”

“I will.”

“Next time we get ideas about buffing something up around here, we’re coming to you first. Now we need to see about making some food. And I’m with you, Audrey, on the wine.”

“I’ll skip the wine, but I’ll take the food. I’m starving. I just need to put the tools away and change for work.”

After Morgan dashed away, Audrey took one more look. “Like the garden, I had no idea she could do something like this.”

“But are you surprised?”

“No, I’m not. It made her so happy,” she continued as they walked to the kitchen. “Not just our reactions, but figuring it out, doing it. She needs to pay you back, Mom. You need to let her.”

“I know. It grates a bit, but I know. How about chicken and rice with a nice salad?”

“Sounds good.” Audrey went to the pantry for the rice. “I don’t know my daughter as well as I should.”

“There was a time I didn’t know mine as well as I should. We fixed it. You’ll fix this.”

“I hope I will. Right now it’s enough she’s here and happy. After yoga the other day? Drea thanked me for raising such a smart, capable daughter. All I could think was I had so little to do with it.”

“You’re wrong about that, Audrey, and when you fix it, you’ll know that.”



* * *



As May rolled into June, Morgan switched from lavender to apricot with apricot coladas and apricot tea—hot or cold. With her probationary period behind her, and Après open for outdoor seating, she dug in deeper.

After formulating her ideas, she went to Nell.

She found her supervisor leaving her office.

“I guess you don’t have a minute.”

“I have a few of them if you can walk and talk. I need to check on the setup for an event in the Presidential.”

“Cocktail party for fifty. Loren’s working the bar. Marisol and Kevin serving.”

“You keep up. Wine, beer, soft drinks, hot and cold hors d’oeuvres, and a selection of mini desserts.” After pressing the button for the elevator, Nell signaled for Morgan to come ahead, stepped in, tapped her card on the pad to access the Club Level. “What’s on your mind?”

“The seasonal hires are working out well. Opal whipped the new waitstaff into shape fast.”