Annette had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. Growing up, Annette’s family had owned the neighboring ranch, and while they had nothing in common when they met at the age of five, they forged a deep friendship that had weathered high school drama, college boyfriends, and different career goals and aspirations.
Opening her car door, she pulled down the visor to study her reflection. Not too bad. Her hair looked a little crazy and her clothes were hopelessly wrinkled, but other than that she looked fine…on the outside. On the inside, she was bleeding a little from her encounter with Alec and she still felt the ghost of his hands and lips tattooed all over her body, but she’d be fine in a couple days. She didn’t fall into Alec’s bed hoping for some long-term, lasting relationship. Last night, he said he needed her and it was as though he had muttered the magic words. Admittedly, she was a sucker for people who needed her. She’d never been able to turn people away. Her career at the Foundation testified to that fact. Even when she could barely feed herself, she still worried more about the kids at the Foundation who may not be able to eat if she didn’t keep the doors open.
Ten minutes later, she knocked on Annette’s door.
“No way,” Annette said, flinging her door open. Annette’s mother was Irish and her dad was Native American. Together they created the most beautiful woman Violet had ever seen. She had high cheekbones, long shiny dark hair, and almond shaped hazel eyes.
“What?” Violet lifted her shoulders and hands and then dropped them, all the while trying not to smile, because smiling, at that moment, kind of hurt her determined frown.
“Am I seeing things? Is that Violet Emerson on my front doorstep or just a mirage created by withdrawal from my best friend?” Annette pushed her long dark hair over her shoulder as she leaned forward, pretending to get a better look.
Violet rolled her eyes. Annette always teased her about making more time for them, not because she was mad, but because they had known each other long enough to understand that hurt feelings didn’t have a place in their friendship, only total honesty. “It’s only been a couple weeks.”
“More like four weeks and two days.”
“Have you been counting?” A faint smile skimmed across Violet’s lips. Only Annette and her mathematical mind would actually bother to count the days so she could give her a hard time. Numbers were Annette’s thing even though she pretended to be flighty and unconcerned; she loved everything to do with slicing and dicing numbers. Thus, her chosen profession as an accountant.
“Of course. I take note of every slight and make a mental note to unload them on you later when I need a favor.”
Violet snorted. “I wouldn’t doubt it. Can I come in now?”
“What’s your excuse?” Annette folded her arms across her chest, blocking the entrance to her house, her eyes dancing mischievously.
“Excuse for what?”
“Neglecting me.”
“The same reason as always.” Violet stuffed her hands into the pockets of her cotton skirt.
“The Foundation,” Annette said, practically spitting the words from her mouth. “You can’t let that place take over your life. You need to make time for Violet, too.”
“I’m trying, but it’s really just me there now. The last two employees quit. I think they saw the writing on the wall.”
“Ah, so more slave labor for you. What do you make now? A dollar an hour?”
“If I’m lucky.”
Annette opened the door wider and waved for her to come in. “I was hoping you finally met a guy that could keep your attention for more than a few weeks and you were so madly in lust that you forgot my number.”
Violet rolled her eyes.
“Speaking of men, how is Eric these days?”
Violet waved her hand dismissively. “Eric’s long gone. He didn’t like my commitment to the Foundation.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not. I’ve barely noticed his departure from my life.”
“Ah…another one of those.”
“There is a guy, though…a new guy.” Violet cocked her head to the side. “Well, maybe not anymore. That’s kind of why I’m here.”
Violet walked into Annette’s house and sat on the sofa in the living room. Annette’s home was a mixture of antiques and hundreds of random little trinkets from her travels. After college Annette had traveled for a year, but not the standard European backpacking tour most college kids did. She traveled from Peru through the Amazon, all the way to Patagonia with her boyfriend. They were no longer together, but Annette still talked about living out of a backpack exploring different cultures. “So what’s the story?”