Change of Life. Leigh Riker

Nora had picked her up the night before, after leaving Savannah and Johnny’s condo, Daisy had pointedly ignored her.

      Now Nora’s eyebrows arched.

      “Please send her in,” she told Daisy. Nora rose from her chair and went around her glass-topped desk to grasp Geneva’s hand. She felt much warmer today. “How nice to see you again so soon. You’re looking better.”

      “I called Mark Fingerhut,” Geneva reported. “I’ll see him tomorrow. But that’s not why I came.” She took the chair Nora indicated in front of the desk, and Nora resumed her place behind it, sensing that the unexpected visit was of importance. “I’ve decided Earl does look as if he’s been working too hard and my adding to the pressure he must feel by making waves wouldn’t be good for our marriage. I can’t thank you enough for listening to me yesterday. I’m sorry I fell apart.”

      “I’m a woman, too, Geneva. What do we have if we can’t help each other?”

      Geneva smiled. She wore stunning off-white pants with a cream-colored jacket, topped by a filmy scarf in shades of rust, gold and a muted beige. Her handbag was Louis Vuitton, her shoes Ricardo Ricci. Her hair and makeup looked flawless again. It was like looking at a different person from yesterday, one who had her act together.

      Geneva said, “I think we can help each other with the design for my house after all. I may have been hasty about hiring Starr and I have another idea.”

      Nora’s heart began to thump. Say it. Choose me.

      With a slowness that made Nora’s pulse triple in anticipation, Geneva handed over her portfolio and then drew a pair of sketches from her own bag. She laid them on Nora’s desk. She glanced at Nora with an expectant expression.

      “Well? What do you think?”

      Nora studied her own design for the breakfast room, a cheerful study in clubby rattan chairs, a round glass table, and swatches of impressionistic color—deep blue, pink, and yellow—in the cushion fabric. Then she saw the other sketch.

      The home office design, which wasn’t hers, had a pleasing look, she had to admit, with a light pickled oak for the computer desk and cabinets, a rich hunter green for the carpet, paint for the walls in a soft, neutral taupe that lent a restful air. The chairs were scattered with sunny yellow throw pillows.

      “Very nice. But I don’t understand,” she began with a sense of dread.

      “You and Starr.” Geneva sounded as if the combination was obvious. “When I studied the sketches you brought yesterday, then looked again at Starr’s—” she indicated the pair of drawings “—I knew I wanted you both to do my house.”

      “You heard us, Geneva. We’re hardly friends.”

      “Nora, I can’t decide between you. I like some of your drawings, others of Starr’s. I haven’t talked to her yet, but when you both see which I’ve chosen for all of the rooms, you’ll see that they complement each other perfectly. I know I’m going to be very happy with the joint result.”

      “But—but—” Nora stammered. She couldn’t imagine anything worse. Except being a suspect in the burglary at Geneva’s home.

      Geneva beamed. “I can’t wait to get started. This has already given me a fresh lease on life.” She paused. “I’m sure Earl will love it, too.”

      Wow, Nora thought. Yesterday Geneva had been a full-blown basket case.

      “I really don’t think…” Nora tried, already seeing Starr’s face in her mind.

      “The customer is always right. Is there any reason why this can’t work?”

      The question sent Nora’s stomach into free fall toward her shoes.

      Only because we might kill each other.