Release by Beth Kery Read Free Book Online Page B

of the kitchen farthest from Sean. She didn’t want to wake him, if she could avoid it.
    “So . . . you got a promotion? The last time I knew, you were our receptionist.”
    There was a long pause. “Genevieve? Genevieve Bujold? Is that you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, what in the world . . . ? How are you?”
    Genevieve laughed. “I’ve been better, but I’m surviving. How about you? And how are those kids? God, Blake has got to be in high school by now, right?”
    “Yes, a sophomore, can you believe it? And what a heart-breaker. Every inch his father—well, before Jamie gained forty pounds and lost his hair, anyway. That’s just like you to remember his name, Genevieve. What are you doing at the penthouse? We haven’t heard from you since . . .”
    “Since Max died,” Genevieve finished when Carol’s voice faded off. A silence ensued. Max’s employees—and most Chicagoans, for that matter—knew Genevieve had been the primary suspect in Max’s murder investigation for a period of time. There had never been sufficient evidence to prosecute her. The murder weapon had never even been found, and a motive could never be established.
    There was no obvious motive that could be established. But none of that made the awkwardness any easier when Genevieve unexpectedly encountered one of Max’s old acquaintances.
    “Sol Green, my attorney, handles of all the Sauren-Kennedy business affairs for me,” Genevieve explained.
    “Right,” Carol agreed, sounding relieved that the tense moment had passed. “Sean told me about you being a silent partner. I can understand how you wouldn’t want to be reminded of Max all the time, like you would be if you took a larger part in the company’s affairs.”
    “I thought it was for the best. Hearing your voice makes me feel guilty though . . . for not maintaining friendships, even if I wasn’t going to be involved in the business.”
    “Well, it’s not like you haven’t had your reasons! I read that article they did on you in Chicago magazine last month. You’ve been busy. Your little boutique firm has really grown, hasn’t it? The article said your designs are being sold all over the world. I read that Michelle Obama ordered almost everything in your spring line! What’s she like ?” Carol asked excitedly.
    “As nice and down to earth as your best girlfriend.”
    “And what about—oh, listen to me, gossiping away when there are more important things to discuss. Like what you’re doing up at the penthouse, for instance?”
    Genevieve considered providing a vague explanation, not really feeling up to rehashing the events of the fire. But then she thought of what she’d said about feeling guilty about not maintaining friendships. It’d been selfish of her. So she explained to an increasingly alarmed Carol about the destruction of the Lake Forest mansion and answered all her questions.
    “I can’t believe it. Such a gorgeous home. I remember several lovely parties that you and Max hosted at that house. And to think of it . . . ruined,” Carol murmured. She sounded dazed. After a pause, she asked, “Does Sean know about all this? I’m only asking because . . . well . . . he’d want to. Know, I mean.”
    “Yes, he knows.”
    “You said Sean was sleeping. So . . . he’s there?”
    “Yes,” Genevieve said, trying to sound matter-of-fact; as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to have spent the night in the penthouse with Sean. She found a cup in the cabinet and poured freshly brewed coffee into it. The rich aroma seemed to brace her. “He was here when I arrived last night. He said he’s been staying here while he works overtime on some project. I know he said he was expecting you, but surely you’re not going to try to come in, given the weather.”
    There was a short pause. “I’m not sure I know what—”
    “Is that Carol?”
    Genevieve looked over her shoulder to see Sean standing in the entryway of the kitchen.
    “Yes,” she