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“Turn the phone around...let that woman on the phone know that I did the right thing.”
Lucy frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, uh...I called the first number on your contact list trying to find out who owned the phone, and the woman said she took a screenshot of me talking to her and was going to turn it in to the cops if I didn’t hand over your phone. I mean, I was gonna do that anyway, but...well, you must be pretty important to have a boss who’ll do something like that.”
He walked away, poking the ten-dollar bill into his pocket, and the manager looked at Lucy in confusion.
“I’ve never heard of a phone that could take a picture of the person you’re talking to unless you were FaceTiming or something.”
Lucy grinned and put the phone to her ear.
“Hello, are you still there?” she asked.
Sahara was grinning. “Yes, I’m here. I heard it all.”
“Many thanks. I don’t know if I believe he would have brought it back if it hadn’t been for the story you sold him.”
“Are you okay, otherwise?” Sahara asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It must’ve slipped out of my purse when I was paying, I guess. Be there soon.”
“Good to know. Gave me quite a scare to hear a man’s voice calling from your number. Just for a moment I was afraid someone else had been targeted because of me. Be careful.”
“Of course,” Lucy said, and disconnected as she hurried outside and got into the car.
The sun was bright. It would be another hot day. She missed the changing weather from back home and, not for the first time, wished Sahara Travis lived in the hills.
* * *
By the time Lucy got back to the penthouse, Sahara was on the phone with Tom.
“I understand you have a burn on your foot,” Tom said.
“Yes, but it’s getting better. The doctor is coming by in a bit to change the dressing and check it out.”
“So if we resumed shooting soon, you’d be able to come to set?”
“Yes. You may have to shoot around a bare foot or something for a while, but I’m not bedridden by any means.”
“That’s good. Yes, yes, that’s good,” Tom said. “The investors are on my ass, so—”
“Don’t worry, Tom. Just send my car and the pages and tell me when to show up.”
“That’s great!” Tom said. “You’re a real trouper, Sahara. I’ve been trying to get a new trailer moved out for you, but—”
“There’s no need for that,” Sahara said. “I’m not superstitious, and I don’t intend to run from this creep. The trailer is fine as long as they’ve cleaned up the crime scene.”
“Of course,” Tom said. “Absolutely. See you soon.”
Sahara rolled her eyes at Lucy as she disconnected.
“That was Tom. He’s getting antsy. Sounds like we’re going to resume shooting soon.”
Lucy nodded. “Good. The sooner this is behind us all, the better.”
Sahara turned around and stared at Lucy a few moments and then walked out of the room. There were a whole lot of things she could say about how callous that sounded, but she wouldn’t. It had been a stressful experience for all of them. Maybe this was just how Lucy dealt with the strain of what had happened.
“Any death threats in my email?” she asked, changing the subject.
Lucy shook her head. “No, thank goodness.”
“Well, that’s good news. Oh, the doctor is coming here soon to change the dressing on my foot.”
Lucy pushed back from the computer and ran to catch up with her boss.
“Do you want something cold to drink? Raspberry tea maybe?”
“That sounds good. Yes, thank you,” Sahara said. “Do we have hummus and pita chips?”
Lucy grinned. “Does a bear—”
Sahara laughed. “I am in something of a rut with snack choices, aren’t I?”
Lucy grinned. “I’ll bring your snack. You get settled in wherever you want to receive the doctor.”
“In the living room,” Sahara said. “But not the one in my suite. The one we never use.”
Lucy went one way while Sahara went another. When Sahara reached the formal living room, she had a purpose in mind. She sat down at the baby grand, adjusted the seat and the pedals, and then ran her fingers up and down the keys. It was slightly out of tune, but it had been ages since she’d played, so maybe it wouldn’t matter.
She sat for a few moments with her fingers on the keys and her eyes closed, and then followed the music she heard in her head.
Lucy brought the snack and left it on the piano, but Sahara was lost in the song and didn’t look up.
* * *
Chris Barrett was about to ring the doorbell at Sahara Travis’s penthouse when he realized he was hearing piano music. He paused in the hall, smiling. Last time he’d heard music like this had been in his grandparents’ house when he was a kid. “Sentimental Journey” was a song out of their youth, and so were pianos.
Curious as to who was playing, he quickly rang the bell.
The personal assistant let him in again, but this time without criticism.
“Good morning, Lucy.”
“Morning, Dr. Barrett. Sahara is waiting for you in the living room.”
“Where’s that music coming from?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s just Sahara. She’s always playing grandma music.”
Chris was surprised, and when they reached the living room, he stopped and put a finger to his lips. Lucy left him alone to watch as Sahara played all the way through to the end. The moment she dropped her head and put her hands in her lap, he began to clap.
Sahara looked up. “Dr. Barrett!” she said, startled. “I didn’t realize you were here.” She stood and motioned toward the sofa. “Should we sit?”
“Sure,” he said, then waited until she crossed the room and plopped down on the sofa.
She smelled like the tropics, and Chris thought about what it would be like to come home to a woman like this every day.
“How has your foot been feeling? Any problems?” he asked, as he began removing the bandage.
“It hurt a lot the first night, but not so much now. We’re going to resume filming soon. I’m hoping it’s not going to present a problem.”
“Let me get the rest of this off so we can see what we have going here,” he said, and as soon as he had the bandage off, he gloved up and began examining the injury. “It looks better than I would have expected,” Chris said. “Healing quickly.”
“Family trait,” she said, and leaned forward for a better look. “The blister broke. That skin is coming off. What’s going to happen there?”
“We would expect the skin beneath to already be in a stage of regrowth, and it appears that it is. I’m going to remove a bit more of this dead skin, and then we’ll redress it and bandage it back up. Don’t wear any kind of shoe that rubs against the burn area.”
“How much longer before you would call it healed?”
“It’s hard to say.”
He heard her sigh. It obviously wasn’t the answer she wanted. He glanced up, fully intending to keep talking, but she was so stunning—even without a hint of makeup—that it caught him off guard.
Sahara frowned, then leaned forward and snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“Paging Dr. Barrett!”
He jumped. Well, damn it.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “But, uh, I have an excuse. I left my sunglasses in the car and...was blinded by your beauty?”
Sahara threw her head back and laughed.
“Oh Lord. Where did you hear that one?”
“My pool boy...on the phone yesterday...trying to talk his girlfriend out of being mad at him.”
Sahara laughed again. A doctor with a sense of humor. That was a nice change of pace.
“Did it work on her?” she asked.
Chris grinned. “Nope.”
“And yet you thought you could pull it off?” she said.
“I thought since I had age and this pretty face going for me, it might work.”
Sahara shook her head. “Nope. It’s a no go from me, too.”
“Well, it never hurts to try,” he said with a smile, and began packing up his bag. “As usual, I’m on the way to somewhere else. Take care, Miss Travis. I’ll check back in on you in another couple of days.”
“When can I get it wet?” she asked.
“When the skin isn’t so new and tender. Probably still a few days.”
She sighed again. “Not ideal, but thank you.”
Lucy appeared in the doorway as if by magic, just in time to see him out. She met Sahara on her way into the kitchen.
“Your timing is impeccable,” Sahara said.
Lucy shrugged. “I was eavesdropping in the hall.”
“At least you’re honest about it,” Sahara said with a grin.
“I didn’t sense a connection in the making. Was I wrong?” Lucy asked.
“No, you weren’t wrong at all,” Sahara said. “Do we have any shrimp left?”
“Yes. How does a shrimp cocktail sound?”
“Sounds delightful. And some iced tea. I don’t care what kind.”
Lucy nodded and began assembling plates and pulling food from the refrigerator.
“So, what did the doctor say about your foot?”
Sahara looked up and grinned. “You didn’t already overhear that, too?”
Lucy giggled. “No. Seriously, are you healing okay?”
“Yes, it’s just going to take time for the new skin to toughen up, but it will happen soon enough.”
“Okay, then,” Lucy said, and dug out the deli-made red sauce that Sahara liked and began assembling the tasty appetizers.
“Double up on that shrimp, please,” Sahara said. “This is lunch...not an appetizer.”
Lucy smiled and squeezed some more shrimp into place around the rim of the dish. She was digging in the pantry for poppy seed crackers when the house phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Sahara said, and slid off the bar stool to pick up. “This is Sahara,” she said.
“Afternoon, Miss Travis. This is Adam. I have an envelope here for you from the studio.”
“Is the messenger still there?”
“No, ma’am.”
