silenced them with a look that had shriveled braver souls. “You make me wish I could still send you to your rooms for a timeout.”
Olivia and Brad chuckled at their mother’s exasperation, and even she surrendered to a small smile edged with regret.
“But I can’t,” she continued, all business once again. “I can still threaten and nag, however, and I shall. Olivia, are you determined to go through with this?”
“Very,” she replied.
“In that case, Bradford, carry your sister’s suitcase to the car.”
He lifted it with some effort. “What do you have in here?” he grumbled. “Cement blocks?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she retorted. “You said one bag. That’s one bag. What’s in it is none of your business.”
“I’ll go along with that. And to prove what a good sport I am, I won’t even ask whether you packed on a few pounds overnight or you’re wearing enough to clothe an entire softball team.”
Olivia smiled at him. “Have I told you how much I’m going to miss you?”
“Actually, you haven’t,” countered her brother.
“This much,” she snapped, pressing the tip of her thumb and forefinger tightly together.
He laughed all the way out the door. Olivia linked arms with her mother as they followed.
“You have to promise to call,” said her mother.
“I will, Mom, I promise.”
“Every day.”
“Probably not every day. It’s long-distance and I’ll be paying my own phone bill. But I will definitely call as often as I can.”
Accepting that reluctantly, her mother continued. “And I want you to promise me you will be careful and not take risks of any nature.”
“No risks. You have my word. Trust me, if it was adventure I was looking for I wouldn’t be going to Danby.”
“And I also want your word that no matter what the final outcome of this, you will not, under any circumstances—”
“Shave my head? Trust me, Mom, do you think I’d have agreed to this if I thought there was the slightest possibility I could lose?”
Helen Ashfield searched her daughter’s eyes. “You wouldn’t have?”
Olivia shook her head, slipped on her sunglasses and grinned. “Not a chance. Think about it, Mom, all I have to do is find a job and support myself for eight weeks.”
The color seemed to drain from her mother’s face. “Oh, dear.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, hiding a trace of annoyance as she hugged her mother. “It’ll be a piece of cake.”
Maybe Brad was doing her a favor, she thought as she started down the brick steps to the wide circular drive. She was pretty tired of being the family “joke.” Good old Olivia, beautiful, but…basically useless. An intelligent woman but a pretty ornament. Well, they were all wrong. Just because she hadn’t discovered what she wanted to do with her life didn’t mean she was destined to do nothing. She was perfectly capable of doing anything she set her mind to, and she was about to prove it.
“Whoa. That’s not my car,” she told Brad as he swung her bag into the trunk of a white sedan parked behind her car.
“Of course it’s not,” he agreed cheerfully, closing the trunk. “You can’t use your car for the next eight weeks.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would violate the terms of our agreement.”
“There was no mention of cars in our agreement.”
“Sure there was,” he countered. “It falls under ‘trappings.’ We agreed you would not take with you any outward trappings of your true identity that might raise questions. That,” he continued, pointing at her beloved silver Jaguar, “is definitely an outward trapping.”
“And you,” retorted Olivia as she snatched the keys he was dangling before her, “are definitely a petty, devious jerk.”
Enduring the dents and scrapes and mismatched wheel covers, she slid behind the wheel of the used sedan and slammed the door. The seat felt too big for her. The whole car felt too big for her. Compared to her sleek, low-slung Jag it was like driving a bus. When the engine sputtered, she said a prayer that it wouldn’t start, but it did, and after only a few jerky stops as she experimented with the unfamiliar brakes, she was on her way…with Brad’s final words ringing in her ears.
“Don’t forget your weekly check-ins, sweetheart.”
Chapter Two
“I ’m so glad you called, Olivia. It’s a relief just to hear your voice.”
“Yours, too,” Olivia replied, surprised just how good it was to hear a familiar voice. Had it really been only a little more than a week?
“I can’t talk long,” she explained to her mother. “I splurged on one of those prepaid phone cards and I don’t want to use all thirty minutes on one call.”
Helen Ashfield sighed. “Really, Olivia. I can send you more phone cards. For that matter, why don’t I just drop a check in—”
“Mom…”
“Discreetly, of course.”
“Don’t you dare! I vowed to do this on my own and I intend to.” She kept the “or die trying” part to herself. “Which brings me to the other reason I can’t talk long. I’m calling you from work.”
“Work? Are you sure?”
“Oh ye of little faith,” she retorted, not entirely joking. “Of course I’m sure. You happen to be speaking with the receptionist for one of the busiest doctors in Danby.”
“A doctor.” Pause. “Do you really think that’s wise? With your limited experience, I mean.”
“Relax, Mom. Dr. Allison Black, better known around here as Doc Allison, is a vet. I’m working at the Danby Animal Hospital.”
“I suppose that’s not quite as risky,” her mother said. “Just the same, be careful in what have been your problem areas in the past, relaying messages, showing up on the right day, that sort of thing.”
“I’ll be sure to do that, Mother,” she said, drumming her fingers on the desktop calendar advertising heart worm medication. “But so far everything is going pretty smoothly.”
“Is today your first day?”
Her grip tightened on the receiver. “Actually I’ve worked nearly every day since I arrived.” That was almost true. Just not on the same job.
“I
