Georgia on Her Mind(63)

“Yes?”

“You have a telephone call.”

“I what?” He must have the wrong Macy Moore.

“You have a telephone call.” He gestures with a white-gloved hand for me to follow.

“Excuse me,” I say to Steve.

“Certainly.” He rises from his seat.

Weirded out, head still spinning from the morning’s revelations, I follow the ma?tre d’ to a plush parlor where I’m sure they serve cocktails to their more prestigious guests. The Frenchman motions to the only phone.

“Hello?”

“Macy, dude! It’s Drag.”

I smile and drop to the velvet seat next to the antique phone stand. “What are you doing?”

“I’m in New York, thought I’d give you a call.”

“How did you find me?”

“I have my ways,” he says with a solid, mature laugh.

“I see. The power of Tidwell is at your fingertips.” His call comforts me like a home-cooked meal.

“It’s both scary and amazing.”

“How’s New York, your dad?” I glance at my watch. I don’t want to keep Steve waiting.

“Hard, but good. I pray a lot.”

“Too bad you’re moving to New York and me to Chicago.”

“Just a flight away, Macy.”

“Right, of course.” I’m encouraged by Drag’s confidence.

“Listen, I did have a reason to hunt you down. Your résumé impressed my father, which, believe me, is no small feat.”

“Are you serious?” I’m on my feet.

“Would I hunt you down in Chicago if I wasn’t?” Drag’s surfer-dude accent has dissipated and he speaks like a seasoned tycoon.

“I have a great offer here. What would I do at Tidwell Communications?”

“Well, we’d have to discuss that, but Dad liked what he read. And that you are partly responsible for bringing his son back into his life.”

“The Lord did that, Drag. I can’t take any credit. Look at my life—part disaster, part ash heap.” I fidget with the hem of my blouse.

He laughs. “Whatever. Anyway, I just wanted you to know Dad is interested just in case Myers-Smith tanked on you.”

“Thanks, Drag. I appreciate it.”

“See you at home in a few days.”

“Yeah, see you at home.” I drop the receiver on the hook, take a second to gather my thoughts, then make my way back to the table, Steve Albright and the offer at hand.





Chapter Twenty-Seven




As my plane taxis to the gate at the Melbourne airport and the captain gives the okay to turn on our electronic devices, my cell phone rings.

“Macy, you home yet?” Lucy is on the other end, animated and vibrant.

“Just landed.” I’ve been gone two days, but it feels like forever.

“I can’t wait to hear about Chicago.”

“You won’t believe their offer.” I unclick my seat belt, stand and reach for my bag in the overhead bin. I pull it down and knock the guy behind me on the head. I wince and mouth, Sorry.

“Extra SSS meeting tonight at House of Joe’s,” Lucy informs me. “Can you be there?”

I fumble to look at my watch. Six-thirty. “Sure, but I’ve been there the last two times alone.” I step onto the passenger ramp and head for the terminal. “And last week we didn’t even meet.”

“Adriane is engaged,” Lucy blurts out. Bombs away without even opening the bomb-bay doors.

“What!”

The guy behind me, whom I accidentally knocked on the head with my bag, bumps into me—on purpose, I’m sure. My phone flies out of my hand and he accidentally kicks it across the aisle.

“Have a pleasant evening.” He looks back at me with a snarky face.

Jerk.

“Macy, are you there?” Lucy’s voice, small and far away, beckons me.

My cell is under a row of chairs. I scurry over to retrieve it. “I’m here.”

“What happened?” She sounds concerned, which I appreciate.

“Never mind. What’s this about an engagement?”

“House of Joe’s. You can hear the details tonight at seven.”

“Wild horses won’t keep me away.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” she says.

I hitch my bag onto my shoulder. “Me, too.”

“Are you moving to Chicago?” She sounds sad.

“Details at seven.”



“Hear ye, hear ye, I call this meeting of the Single Saved Sisters to order.” Adriane raps her knuckles on the table as we gather around.

“Girl, get out.” Tamara laughs and knocks Adriane with her shoulder. “Hear ye, hear ye…”

“Are you writing a book set in the eighteenth century?” I ask, settling down with my latte.

“No, just trying to be funny.” Funny doesn’t work with Adriane. Sarcasm and pessimism? Yes.

I look around the table with a feeling of melancholy. With Lucy and Tamara in serious relationships, Adriane engaged and me about to move to Chicago, it doesn’t take a NASA scientist to figure out the era of the Single Saved Sisters is coming to a close.