“She’s got this thing about her.”
Clay couldn’t help the envy that had surged briefly at Chance’s simple, expressive statement. Clayton Carlisle had nodded silently and gotten a faraway look in his eyes, obviously reliving a memory. The smile on his face as he cleared his throat and looked away hinted that it was a private recollection. Lydia Webster, their bride to be, was the best thing that had ever happened to his friends. He could see that for himself without listening to them talk about her.
Rubbing his stiff neck, Clay glanced at the sketch of the ring, wondering why he didn’t have the same desire to push forward with work on the new line. He’d wanted to introduce a new line of gold, silver, and platinum jewelry that would be marketed as Clay Cook Originals.
He wanted them to be groundbreaking and different from anything else he’d done. But the feeling just wasn’t there yet, and he had no idea where it was going to come from. He turned to his latest project for the showroom and went back to work after glancing at the sketch one last time.
* * * *
Lily made a right turn, and then another, completely confused. She’d found her old elementary school and had thought that would help ground her, but as usual her goofy sense of direction had led her astray. With a frustrated sigh, she conceded defeat as she turned onto Main Street and drove through downtown, searching for a likely place she could stop to look at a map. Another sharp pain and wave of nausea followed her sharp exhalation and she groaned, rubbing her other cold hand on her leg.
Feeling chilled, she licked her numb lips and rolled up the windows as she pondered the wisdom of skipping lunch in favor of getting to Divine more quickly.
I need to find someplace to stop.
Slowing down, she gazed at the colorful signs for the businesses located in a shopping center on her right. She recognized Stigall’s Department Store right away. At least some things had stayed the same.
Without warning, another searing pain shot through her, and she gasped at the intensity of it. She couldn’t blame that on food poisoning, stress, gas, or hunger. Something was wrong. She whimpered as nerves sent a cold prickling sensation over her arms and throat. This wasn’t pain she could ignore, as had become her habit.
She heaved a relieved breath when she saw a familiar name on a sign, wracking another gasp of pain from her.
Clay Cook Jewelers. Oh, God, thank you. Let it be him and not someone else by the same name, please.
What she needed or what he could do for her at the moment was all jumbled up in her head as white sparkles clouded her vision.
Give me directions to my home? Hold me and let me cry? Take me to a hospital! God, help me!
The odd sound of static became louder in her ears as she put on her blinker to turn into the parking lot.
The car hit the dip in the entryway with more force than she intended, jolting the seat belt against her midsection. She cried out in agony and everything went black.
* * * *
Clay’s concentration was suddenly disrupted by a loud crash reverberating through the building, followed by a dramatic scream from Tabitha Lester.
“What the—” Clay ran through the workroom doors and saw Tabitha cowering inside the ring of glass showcases. Looking to the left, he saw the cause of the commotion and groaned. His front window lay in shattered pieces on the hood of a little faded silver car.
“Call nine-one-one, Tabitha,” he said as he ran out the front door.
A familiar, dark-haired woman had already reached the driver side door, so he ran around to the passenger side and pulled the door open. The tall woman had her phone to her ear and was obviously speaking to an emergency dispatcher. Clay did a double take when he recognized his doctor, Emma Guthrie, and then turned his attention to the brunette who was slumped over in the passenger seat.
“Female driver, mid- to late-thirties…no sign of head injuries, the vehicle wasn’t moving very fast when it struck the building.” Clay was afraid to touch the driver for fear of making any injuries she suffered from worse. Emma stood to speak with one of the two men who were standing near her, and then Clay heard her growl disgustedly at Tabitha, who had come outside with her camera phone. Emma called out, “Tabitha, stop taking pictures! There’s glass everywhere and you’re going to get cut. Move over there!” While one of the men put the vehicle in park, Emma gestured for Tabitha to move back toward the door, and then she squatted down to the brunette, muttering, “I can’t believe she’d take pictures. Stupid cow. Sorry, Clay.”
Clay shrugged and glanced at his showroom employee in consternation. He caught her as she made a nasty face at Emma, took another picture, and then proceeded to send a text message, her eyes glittering in her flushed face. Tabitha had always done an adequate job, but her behavior at times was embarrassing.