“Run, huh?” Jill asked as she wheeled her bags toward the door. “Tell me, how high are your heels today, four inches or five?”
“Okay, so I’ll stride purposefully,” Elena said. “Just tell me what carousel thingy you’re at. I can have Cory circle around.”
“Who the heck is Cory?”
“New driver. He’s totally cute. Great butt.”
Jill rolled her eyes. “He can totally hear you, huh?”
“Totally. Okay, now where are you for real? I’m coming in, but if I break a nail—”
“Door eight,” Jill said, and she stepped outside. “While you were flirting with your driver, I already got my bags. Also, how freaking cold is it right now? It was not this cold last winter.”
“It totally was; you’ve just been spending too much time on the beach. Okay, we’re approaching. What are you wearing?”
Jill glanced down at her white long-sleeve tee and jeans with her puffy-coat vest.
“Minidress, obviously. It’s lacy, super short. Maybe a little see-through, I can’t be sure. My hair’s styled in big ringlets, sort of beauty queen style—”
“I see you, you little liar. Also, didn’t we agree that the Uggs were going buh-bye after last winter?”
A black car pulled up in front of Jill, the back window rolling down to reveal the stunning, if slightly haughty, features of Elena Moretti.
“Hello, darling,” her best friend said.
Then the back door was open and they were doing the squealing, hoppy thing that seemed entirely necessary after a three-month separation.
Well, mostly it was Jill doing the jumping and squealing, while the far more sophisticated Elena let Jill all but maul her with hugs.
“Down, girl,” Elena said with one last pet of Jill’s ponytail.
Jill pulled back so she could study her best friend, grinning in relief when she saw Elena looked exactly as she had when Jill left. Her best friend was stunning. Tall, hourglass figure, long chestnut hair, blue eyes… total hottie.
Add in the girl-power suits and killer heels, and you had a bona fide man-eater on your hands.
Speaking of men, a guy, whom Jill assumed must be Cory, gave them an indulgent smile as he easily hoisted Jill’s suitcases into the trunk, before coming around and holding the door for them expectantly.
“He does have a cute butt,” Jill whispered as she climbed into the backseat after Elena.
“Right? Oh, and if it comes up, you’re a potential client,” Elena said before turning her vibrating phone to silent and dropping it into her Chanel bag. “Hence why I’m using company resources.”
“Cool, got it. I can totally play this,” Jill said, clicking her seat belt into place. She cleared her throat. “You can’t handle the truth!”
The driver faltered slightly as he lowered himself into the driver’s seat, and Elena rolled her eyes. “What was that?”
“Jack Nicholson, from… actually, I have no idea what that’s from.”
“It’s from A Few Good Men, and that’s not what I’m asking. I’m wondering why the heck you’re shouting it out all crazy-like right now?”
“Well, Jack’s character says that while he’s on the witness stand. And you said I was supposed to be a client, so…”
Elena stared at her. “Babe, what is it you think I do all day?”
“Lawyer stuff?” Jill grinned widely.
“Right. And I’m sure all you do all day is drink coffee and eat doughnuts, right? Cop stuff?”
Jill gave a happy sigh. “God, I miss doughnuts. Florida doesn’t know how to do them right, and Mom decided that going without sugar was going to be her ‘thing’ during her sixties.”
Elena looked horrified. “No wine? That has sugar.”
“Yeah, I think she conveniently ignores that.”
“How is she?”
“Better now,” Jill said. “Getting her mobility back and all that.”
A broken collarbone and hip were a nasty combination for anyone, but it had been especially hard on Kerry Henley, who prided herself in being an active “young” sixty-year-old. One day she’d been running a 5K, and then next she’d missed a step carrying her laundry basket down the stairs and been almost completely laid up for months.
It had taken up all of Jill’s personal time plus a couple months of unpaid leave to care for her, but Jill hadn’t hesitated to make the temporary move to Florida.
Her boss had assured her that her job would be waiting for her when she got back, and three months of your life is the least you could do for a parent who’d given eighteen years to caring for you.
Jill’s in particular deserved her devotion; Jill’s dad had dropped dead of a heart attack at forty-one, leaving Kerry to raise a headstrong (read: bratty) daughter all by herself.
“I’m glad she’s better. I love your mom. I wish she’d come up to New York more often.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you had to listen to her complain about the pigeons and the subway and the weather.”
“Could be worse. Last Sunday, my mother actually started a sentence with, “You’re not getting any younger, Elena.”