“Anne, where are you going?”
Good God. His office door is closed and he’s in a meeting but he still knows when I am trying to slip out.
Hugh Giamatti emerged from his office and locked eyes with his daughter standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“I just need to do a little shopping. I’d like to take my own car. I’ll be prudent and careful at all times.” Anne said the last sentence as if she were a teenage daughter asking for the keys to the Bentley.
“I’ll call Jeff and Dale. They can take you.”
“Oh God, Dad, please no. They clean and polish my Acura every day but you won’t even let me drive it. I just need some time on my own. I need to buy girl products and I don’t want an ox like Dale hovering over me while I do it. For God’s sake, I’m thirty-four years old. I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.”
Hugh shook his head. “We are not having this conversation again. You know why we have to do this.”
Exasperated now, Anne cried out, “I know. I know. We have enemies and you see them around every corner. I know how you think, Dad, but I can’t live this way. I have to be able to go out without your men following me all around. How am I supposed to live my life? Please, just let me go.”
Again, Hugh shook his head. “Not going to happen. I’ll have Roy take you out. I’ll tell him to be discreet.”
“Oh, Dad…” Her final argument faded off into oblivion as she surrendered once again to his will.
Great. Discreet. Right. Roy is a discreet six foot four, 260 pound, black mountain that no one will notice. Perfect.
Roy drove as Anne sat in the backseat, watching the world pass by. They left the Sand Point neighborhood and headed toward I-5 and downtown Seattle. She really wanted to drive herself. It was a small thing but she simply needed to feel like a normal person again. It had been over three years since she drove her Acura out of the compound. She pressed her eyes closed and tried to forget about those days. Too depressing.
She shifted her focus to today’s mission. Time to buy new underwear, particularly bras. It was one of those tasks she most dreaded—trying on dozens of bras in hopes of finding one that fit her. Being top-heavy was nothing but a curse. Especially since there was no man in her life to appreciate their intrinsic value.
“We’re going to Nordstrom first, Roy.”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s what you said before.”
Oh good, I’m repeating myself now. Thirty-four years old and senility is already setting in. Excellent.
September and the Single Heart on Amazon US
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