Lethal Justice. Fern Michaels

Charles replied.

      “I envy you,” Alexis said. “When do you expect the others?”

      “Myra said by noon. We’ll have lunch before we get down to work. Are you ready, luv?”

      “I’m ready, Charles. I think I feel like Myra did when it was finally her turn to seek revenge against the man who killed her daughter. Like Myra, I thought this day would never get here. I am so grateful—we all are—that Myra formed the Sisterhood for all of us to do what the law failed to do for us. Sometimes, especially late at night, I have a hard time believing someone as good and kind as Myra would use her vast fortune to help all of us get our lives back. I don’t know what I’m trying to say here, Charles. Help me out.”

      Charles smiled. “You’re grateful. Sometimes the law … doesn’t quite work. Myra wanted to pick up the pieces, to try and make things right for all of you. As you said, her vast fortune allows her to do this.” Charles looked down at his watch. “It’s time to start breakfast. I promised Myra I would make waffles this morning. Is there anything in particular that you would like, Alexis?”

      Alexis sighed as she finished the last of her coffee. “Waffles sound delicious. I’m going to run upstairs to take a shower. This was nice,” she said, waving her arms about to indicate the early morning sunshine, the beginning of a new day, and their conversation. “The flowers are so beautiful. I didn’t see them when I got here last night.”

      Charles laughed. “Myra will be so pleased to hear you say that. She and I worked all day in the greenhouses potting all those gorgeous flowers. She wanted the terrace to look beautiful as a welcome for all of you. Run along, dear. I’ll give Grady his breakfast.”

      As Alexis ran up the back stairway, 63-year-old Myra Rutledge was descending the front staircase. Grady ran to greet her. Myra was always good for a brisk belly rub. She sat down on the stairs and obliged the golden retriever until Charles called that breakfast was ready. Grady ran ahead of her, his tail swishing in anticipation of a tidbit of bacon and maybe a bit of waffle in addition to the dog food he usually got.

      Myra walked over to the stove where she kissed the love of her life soundly. So soundly, Charles groaned. “I missed you when I woke up. What time did you get up, dear?”

      “A little after three. I had some work to do, calls to make around the globe. Would you like strawberries or blueberries with your waffles?”

      “Blueberries and two slices of bacon. It smells wonderful, but then everything you cook tastes and smells wonderful. I thought I heard Alexis earlier. Has she been downstairs?”

      “We had coffee on the terrace while Grady romped in the yard. Before you can ask, she said the flowers are beautiful. She also told me she’s ready for her mission. She is, Myra. Our girl won’t back away this time. She’s more confident these days and I do think Grady might have something to do with that newfound confidence.”

      Myra found herself smiling as she watched the man she loved with all her heart. He hadn’t skipped a beat when she’d told him she wanted to form a little club to help certain women who fell through the cracks of the judicial system. Charles had jumped in with both feet, both arms swinging to help make it all happen. With her money and his expertise, they’d taken on the bad guys, as she thought of them, and got the justice the women deserved. These days, no one questioned Charles. If he said it could be done, then it could be done. It was that simple.

      With the Queen of his homeland on his speed dial, who would dare question him? His personal Rolodex would be the envy of the White House if they knew it existed.

      Myra beamed with happiness. “The best thing that ever happened to me was when your cover was blown and the Queen spirited you away to our shores. I cannot imagine what my life would have been without you beside me.”

      Charles raised his eyebrows. “Are we feeling sentimental this morning, Myra?”

      “A little. It is the first day of spring. I always expect wonderful things to happen on this day. I don’t know why that is. Do you know, Charles?”

      Charles thought about the question. “Everything comes alive in the spring. The long cold winter goes back to sleep and the sun comes out. It’s just a beautiful time of year. Alexis was saying the same thing earlier. She’s equating this day with her mission. Do you want to get married, Myra?” Charles chuckled. “This is proposal number 4,756 if you’re counting.”

      “I would love to marry you, Charles. One of these days. I don’t want you stewing and fretting about … you know … getting caught. I know husbands and wives cannot be forced to testify against each other. They can stick needles under my toenails and I would never mention your name nor the names of our girls to anyone in authority. I am prepared to take the sole blame for our … our little endeavors. We’ve discussed this many times, Charles. Perhaps when all our missions are complete, we can revisit your marriage proposal. In the meantime, isn’t it enough to know I love you body and soul? It’s so boring being made an honest woman.”

      Charles laughed. “Point taken, my dear.”

      Myra leaned across the table and whispered. “Do you remember the time you fashioned a maypole in the back yard and we danced naked in the moonlight?” Myra burst out laughing when she saw her companion of many years flush a bright pink.

      “It’s one of my finest and fondest memories. Now that I know how to make a maypole complete with streaming ribbons, I’m up for another dance. Just say the word.”

      It was Myra’s turn to blush. “I’ll let you know. Go! I can see you’re getting antsy. I’ll clean up. I think I hear Alexis on the stairs.”

      “Her waffles are in the warming oven. Call me when the others arrive.”

      Myra nodded.

      Alexis, dressed in a bright turquoise pantsuit, leaned over to give Myra a morning hug. “It’s a wonderful day, isn’t it? The terrace looks absolutely delicious. It’s like looking at a rainbow. You must be so happy living here all year long. I can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. I mean, the permanence.” Alexis’s voice turned wistful. “Living here with the man you love has to be a wonderful feeling. It doesn’t get any better than that, does it, Myra?”

      Myra bit down on her lower lip. “For a time, it was like you said. I was the happiest woman in the world. I had it all, my cup runneth over, that kind of feeling. Then my world turned upside down when that Chinese diplomat’s son killed my daughter. Now, Pinewood is simply a place to live. A place where we all conduct our business. If I had to leave here, I could do it. Your day will come, dear. You’ll find the happiness you deserve, you’ll be vindicated, and then you can get back into the world you were forced to leave because of those hateful greedy people.”

      Alexis picked up a blueberry, wondering where it came from at this time of year. “One can’t go home again, Myra. I think I’m a little nervous about what will happen to me after … after I’ve been vindicated. How do you go back to your old life, pick up the pieces and …?” Alexis threw up her hands in frustration at her inability to finish her thought.

      “You aren’t going to go home again, dear. You’re going to go forward to a new life that isn’t ugly and controlled by greedy, manipulative people. Once you get your reputation back, you may well decide you don’t want that kind of life anymore. When you’re whole again, then it will be time to make decisions. Whatever those decisions turn out to be, all of us will be behind you. Is there something else bothering you? I’m a good listener, Alexis.”

      Alexis picked up another blueberry and bit into it. “I have this fear that we’ll get caught and I’ll have to go to prison again. I can’t go back there again, Myra. I just can’t. I have awful dreams, night after night. Even in the bright daylight, I hear that cell door clanging shut. In my dreams my hands and feet are raw and bleeding from kicking and hitting the bars. I sleep with the lights on and my bedroom door wide open. I thought about going to therapy but what good would it do? It happened. I can’t change that. The fear is real. More real because of what