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Bundle of Trouble(69)

By:Diana Orgain


I tried to keep the panic out of my voice and my eyes free from tears at the thought of going back to the office. Something must have shown because Jim’s lips tightened into a line.

He stared at me, then we both nodded solemnly together, trying to convince each other that we believed everything would work out.

I snuggled with Laurie while I listened to Jim tap on the computer keyboard in the other room.

At 8 A.M. the phone rang. A refined gentleman’s voice asked, “Is Mr. Connolly available?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Dirk Jonson, with Jonson, Mayer, and Ritler.”

Could this be a recruiter already?

With Laurie in tow, I walked to Jim’s office and handed him the cordless phone. Before I could tell him who was calling, Laurie began to wail in my ear. I took our screaming daughter out of the room and closed the door behind me, ruining any chance of my eavesdropping, but giving Jim an opportunity to hear something other than Laurie’s caterwauling.

I put a pot of decaf on and scrambled around the kitchen looking for anything that vaguely resembled breakfast fixings. I made toast.

I added sugar to my cup and revised my to-do list:





To-Do List:

1. Help Jim find a job.

2. Find Brad and/or Michelle and Svetlana’s killer.

3. Get more sleep.

4. Figure out how to launch this PI business—How do I get more clients?

5. Research day care for Jelly Bean.

6. Get a manicure and pedicure.

7. Where is that parenting book?

8. Organize house.

9. Mail thank-you cards.

I grabbed the stack of thank-you cards and popped them into the diaper bag. I would mail them today no matter what.

I called Jim for breakfast.

“All we have is toast,” I muttered. “I’ll shop today.”

“I’ll go,” Jim said, gobbling every crumb on his plate.

“Who was that on the phone?”

“The client I landed for Fortena and Associates.”

“What was he calling about?”

“They told him I got fired yesterday. He wasn’t very happy about it and wants to meet with me today.” Jim raised his eyebrows.

The phone rang again. Mrs. Avery wanted to take me to brunch and get a status report.

The brunch part sounded fabulous, because, of course, I was still hungry, even after two slices of toast. The status part . . . ?

What would I report?





After breakfast, Jim put Laurie into her bassinet and tapped away at the computer. I showered, trying to pull energy and ideas from the water.

Jim’s appointment wasn’t until the afternoon, which left me plenty of time to meet with Mrs. Avery without having to worry Mom about babysitting.

I fumbled through my closet and found the best clothes I could that would fit. Dressier slacks that I could almost button and a pink silk blouse, which was designed to tie around the waist, camouflaging my sins.

I even had time to apply makeup. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Wow! Makeup really did make a difference. Especially at age thirty.

I crept into Jim’s office. Laurie was sleeping peacefully in the baby carrier with her thumb in her mouth.

“She’s discovered her thumb,” I said.

“I noticed,” Jim replied.

“I hope she won’t develop nipple confusion.”

Jim laughed. “I doubt it.”

“Right,” I said, reassured. “The breastfeeding purists will tell you anything to keep you nursing.”

I edged Jim away from the computer in order to prepare my report for Mrs. Avery. What could I possibly put in it, when I didn’t have a clue who killed Brad? I fell back on my old corporate skills: “If you have nothing of substance to report, at least make it look good. And when all else fails, overwhelm the reader with information.”

“When will you be back?” Jim asked, looking over my shoulder as I typed.

“In time for the next feeding, don’t worry.”

“What do I do if she cries?”

I looked up into Jim’s face. His brow was creased in concern.

“You’ve been alone with her before.”

“Once, and you left me with a bottle. When she cried, I gave it to her and she stopped. What do I do this time?”

“There’s a bottle in the fridge. I’ll leave written instructions again, okay? I won’t be gone long.”

A look of relief flashed across his face. He leaned over to kiss me.

He asked, “Are you going to invoice Mrs. Avery today?”

“What?”

“Remember, I’m out of work. If you’re serious about making this a business, you should present her with an invoice for your time so far. I mean, you never even got a retainer from her, right?”

“What’s a retainer?”

“Request at least twenty-five percent of what you think the total cost to solve the crime will be.”