Marriage To A Stranger

He was taking Bess out? Lara wondered briefly what that was all about, then she put aside the question. She’d call Bess later and find out. If Conley was lying and he did want to fight the divorce, then Lara had more important things to worry about than what her father and Bess were up to.

“I don’t know what he wants, Ed. Something about the divorce, I guess. What else could it be?”

“Then why does he need me?”

“I have no idea.”

As Lara spoke, an indescribable weariness came over her. Her life felt as if it were melting under the onslaught of heated emotions and disappointments. Ed stared at her and started to speak, but all at once Lara gathered her papers and stood. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say, no matter what it was. She turned and walked out of his office.

She couldn’t handle anything more.

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Conley limped around his office with a restless energy, the cord of his headset dragging along behind him. His leg was feeling better, but it still hurt some. He grimaced against the pain and concentrated on his phone call.

“Have you checked on the dip switches on lines two and four? Those com lines have to be open and clear or there might be a timing problem. If all the buses are trying to use the same path, the data’s gonna cross and everything will be scrambled.”

He waited for the translator to relay his question and cursed silently. He should be there in person! How could you fix a computer without seeing what in the hell was going on? It wasn’t just the data that was getting scrambled, he was sure. There was no way someone who didn’t know what they were doing could follow his directions.

Looking at his watch, he cursed again. Right now, Lara and Ed were probably walking into the building, and he hadn’t had a moment to think since he’d called her early this morning. He’d wanted to organize his thoughts, get his facts lined up just so, and he hadn’t had the chance.

Along with his phone problem, he’d been too busy staring at the damn roses sitting on his desk. Ellen, his secretary, had brought them in sometime midmorning. When he’d questioned her, she’d told him they’d been delivered by a courier. As always, Conley had her tracking down the florist but he was sure the people at the shop would say the same thing each florist did. The flowers had been ordered over the phone and paid for with cash mailed in advance. Sorry, they had no record of the sender.

He usually sent the bouquets immediately to the retirement home down the road, unable to stand the sight of their bloodred petals but he’d kept them this time to show Ed and Lara. The one word note lay on his desk, the four letters blinking up at him almost evilly.

Soon…

With a start, he realized the translator was talking again. He’d completely lost track. Interrupting the woman, he stopped her in midword.

“Look,” he said, “I’m not going to solve this problem like this, okay? I can’t come myself, but I’ll send someone. Tell them—”

At the other end of the line, his Azeri customer started to scream. Obviously he knew more English than Conley had assumed. “No,” the man cried. “Not someone. You. Must be you. Other person, no!”

With promises he knew might be empty, Con soothed the man as much as he could, hanging up a few minutes later. He was ripping off his headset when a tap sounded on his door. The door opened and Theresa stood on the threshold, Lara and Ed right behind her.