Page 32 of Save Her Life

FIFTEEN

Sandra became a Georgetown girl after the Davenports welcomed her and Sam into their lives. Well, after some adjustment. Her early childhood never offered up luxury living. Summer vacations were trips to a park, or running under the sprinkler in the backyard. One year, their parents enrolled her and Sam in a camp program that had them away for a week,roughing it. That was an adventure she never cared to repeat. She found out at a young age she wasn’t really the outdoorsy type. Running in nature was the closest she came. But she decided to take advantage of what life had given her, and took a portion of her trust from the Davenports and bought a glorious two-story penthouse overlooking the Potomac River. It even offered unobstructed views of the National Mall and Key Bridge.

The place was over six thousand square feet with an additional three thousand square feet in outdoor terraces. But what really sold her on the place was the floor-to-ceiling windows. During the day, sunlight drenched the home, and at night, like now, she appreciated the moonlight’s reflection on the river.

She was in the kitchen, pulling a bottle of champagne out of her Sub-Zero fridge when she heard her daughter’s voice coming from the entry.

“Marco?”

Sandra smiled. She and Olivia would play up the size of the home. “Polo!”

Olivia and Sandra chorused back and forth a few more times before her daughter stepped into the kitchen. She had her phone in her hand, the device’s cradle. “Ooh, champagne? Fancy date with Eric tonight?”

“Well, he is coming over, but that’s not why I took this out.” She gestured to the bubbly that was a few thousand dollars a bottle. “Patton’s parole was denied,” she cheered.

“Great news, Mom!” Olivia walked over and gave Sandra a hug.

The whole time Sandra was thinking how special this girl was, even if she took after her father in her looks. She had his brown hair and eyes, whereas Sandra was a natural blond despite the war she was starting to wage against the gray. And her eyes were gray. But Olivia was a good kid, and Sandra loved spoiling her. She’d given Olivia her own suite in the house, and while Sandra realized she had more than most girls her age, maybe more than some adults, none of it had gone to her head. She couldn’t have asked for a more down-to-earth girl.

“So, champagne, a reason to celebrate… does that mean that I get a glass?” Olivia put on a cheesy smile.

“A small one.”

“Ooh, this night got even better. But Eric is coming over, isn’t he? You look amazing, Mom.”

She wouldn’t take offense at the implication she didn’t put effort in otherwise, but she had changed when she got home. It was just a white linen getaway set though, nothing too fancy. She’d tied the shirt into a handkerchief knot to expose a bit ofher flat abdomen, which she credited to running. “Thanks, and he is.” She looked at her gold watch, one she’d put on in place of her smartwatch. “He should be here any minute with dinner. He’s picking up from La Gioia Ristorante.” She added flourish to the name, letting it roll off her tongue.

“Sounds delicious, but I was kind of hoping Avery could come over, and you’d let us order in pizza and watch movies in my room.” Olivia winced.

“You were with her last night.”

“So? She’s my best friend.”

Sandra couldn’t see a reason to say no, but it might be her fantastic mood making her more agreeable. “That’s fine by me.”

Olivia beamed and clapped her hands together. “I’ll text her and let her know. Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, but remember, it is a school night.” She imagined her daughter had stayed up late last night at Avery’s.

“Yeah, yeah.” Olivia tapped a quick kiss on Sandra’s cheek and swept out of the room.

“Eric or I can drive Avery home later or arrange a ride for her,” Sandra called out to her.

“Okay!”

With her exuberant energy gone, Sandra felt the aftermath of the hurricane. Still. Quiet. She pulled out some dishes and cutlery just as the doorbell rang. Eric had a key but insisted on giving her a heads-up of his arrival. For visitors not on her list, the concierge at the front desk would call up and notify her.

“Sandra?” Eric called out a moment later.

“Kitchen.” She pulled down four champagne flutes. She knew Avery’s mother well enough to know she wouldn’t mind if her daughter got a splash.

“Oh, look at you. I’m feeling a little underdressed.” He set two bags of food on the counter and came over to her, placing his hands on her hips, his thumb near her exposed navel.

“It’s just casual wear, Eric. Like yours.”

“Somehow my stonewashed dark jeans don’t seem to stack up.”

She shook her head with a smile. “You’re being ridiculous.” She tugged on the lapel of his dinner jacket, and he was wearing a collared shirt underneath it. Knowing him, the former wouldn’t last long as he tended to run on the hot side.

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