Singer

The sky is bluer.

The air warmer.

The sun brighter.

My steps peppier.

Life is good for the first time since . . .

I am missing Ethan already. He flew out on a private jet early this morning. He wanted to drive me home first. Well, Lars drove. Ethan and I made out in the back. He wanted me to leave right then with him, to leave my clothes behind. “Buy more,” he said. “Leave it all behind. We’ll get you all new stuff. Just come with me.”

I kissed lower than his lips for that sweet offer, but I couldn’t leave Boulder like that. The car came to a stop in my driveway, and Lars opened the door. I promptly fell onto the grass on my ass. If I hadn’t been laughing so hard, I might have been embarrassed that my underwear remained in Ethan’s hand . . . inside the car when I tumbled out.

After righting me, Ethan kissed me goodbye but kept my panties. They left and I retrieved the key from under the planter and tiptoed into the house. Not wanting to wake anyone, I tried my darnedest to be quiet, but it’s too hard to keep all this happiness contained.

Busted before I reach the stairs, my mom says, “Good morning.”

Swinging my head to the side, I see her sitting at the breakfast table and detour to join her. “Good morning.” While I pour a cup of coffee, she watches me. “What?”

“You. It’s good to see you smiling.” I stir in creamer, and she adds, “You’re in love with him.”

“I am.”

“No one’s ever made you smile like this.”

I pick my mug up with my left hand and bend my wrist forward while I sip.

Maybe I should have done that when she wasn’t trying to actually drink her coffee, considering I’m wearing said coffee now.

She jumps, dabbing my hand and the ring with napkins. “Oh my. I’m so sorry, but oh my God, Singer. Are you engaged?”

“I am,” I reply, lifting in my seat with excitement. I hold out my hand. “Ethan asked me to marry him.”

“And you said yes?”

“Yes, of course. You said it yourself. I love him. I don’t want to imagine a life without him, but when I do, it looks a lot like the last month and a half. Sad and pathetic.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a diamond that big. Did he mine for that in the mountains?”

Staring at the ring, I admire it. “It’s a bit, or a lot, big. It’s stunning.”

“It sure is, and wow.”

“Six carats, emerald cut. I love the setting. He said I could take it in and get whatever I want if I prefer something else.”

“Do you?” she asks, sitting in the chair next to me.

“I love it, but I’m not sure if I want to walk around with something so big on my hand. You know, for safety reasons.”

“Update me on that situation. Marriage means you’re going back to New York to be with him?” Her tone is eerily calm, her eyes fixed on me over the lip of her cup while she takes a drink.

“I am.”

“Will you get your old job back?”

The way he referred to it as “our money” has me wanting to fall into this good life with him. “He’s accomplished so much already. I haven’t. I’m going to keep working, at least until we have children. I’ll make the decision then if I’ll go back after.”

“I looked him up online.”

I take a loud intake of air and blow out. “Okay.”

“I assume you know how much money he’s worth?”

“I do.”

“When you came home last month, you said he had a lot of money and maybe that was why someone tried to kill you. I’m your mother. This worries me. All the money in the world isn’t worth risking your life.”

“We don’t know who or why things happened, but I don’t feel unsafe when I’m with him.”

“Singer—”

“Mom. Please. Please let me celebrate an engagement to a man that I would give my life for.”

“Don’t say that. It may happen.”

I stand, wanting to run from the room and pretend I never had this conversation. But I’m a woman now, so I don’t have to escape uncomfortable situations. I need to handle them. “He has security. Until this psycho is caught, I’ll have detail as well.”

“Detail?”

“Security.”

“Sit. Please.”

Giving her the courtesy she deserves, I sit back down. “I don’t want to live my life afraid. What kind of life will that be?”

“None.” Her smile returns. “Congratulations on the engagement. He seems polite and very nice. You weren’t wrong when you said he was handsome. So tell me, when are you leaving me again?”

“I’m not leaving you. I’m starting my life.”

* * *

Two days later, I fly in a private jet for the first time. I have to admit, it’s really nice. If that’s a perk of this new life, I’m on board with it. Pardon the pun.

With Ethan in meetings at the office all afternoon, I return to the penthouse. The new driver is nice, but he’s not Aaron. I’m excited to see Aaron and hope he’s up when I arrive. The elevator door opens, and my mouth follows suit. I can barely squeeze the suitcase into the hallway. Vase upon vase fills the black corridor. The gallery lights shine to highlight the hundreds, maybe thousands of pink peonies.

They smell just as pretty as they look. I can only imagine how much he spent on these flowers. I leave my suitcase by the door and walk the narrow path between the vases.

“Hello,” I call when I reach the open area of the apartment.

No one returns a hello though. With no one around and Ethan working until dinner, I decide to do something I’ve wanted to do for weeks.

With time on my side and no one to talk me out of it, I return to my apartment.

* * *

Even in broad daylight, standing at the curb, the red-brick, pre-war building feels ominous. I don’t look at the middle of the street, not wanting to see if anything remains of her death. The taxi pulls away, and I hear, “It’s good to see you, Ms. Singer.”

Lowering my gaze from the floor where I used to live, I see Frank. “Hi.” I don’t make him get up. I go to him. “How are you, Frank?”

“You know. The usual. You’ve been missed.”

“Have I?”

With a snaggletooth smile, he says, “Yes. And Ms. Lazarus.”

I try not to snap at him for bringing her death up, but it’s a struggle. It’s only natural for people to mention it, to mention her. That’s something I have to get used to. “I miss her, too.”

“She was a really nice lady.”

“She was.”

An awkward silence falls around us, so I reach into my purse and dig out a twenty. “It’s all I’ve got on me, but it’s yours.”

He takes it, and graciously thanks me. “I didn’t know if you’d ever be back, but in case you were, I’ve been holding on to something for you.”

“For me? You didn’t need to get me anything.”

“I’d like to take credit, but it’s something I found.”

Curious, I watch as he goes back to his pallet and digs through a backpack. When he comes back, he holds out his hand. “I think this belongs to you now.” A silver chain dangles between his fingers. Half a heart with the word BEST on it gleams in the late afternoon sun.

He lowers his hand when I gasp. “Are you all right, Ms. Davis?”

“That was Mel’s.” The sob jolts my chest, rising in my throat. “She never took it off.”

“The clasp is broken. I found it in the street.”

I reach for it, taking it into the palm of my hand. “I can’t believe you found this.”

“I saw it and thought you’d want it.”

“I do. Thank you so much, Frank.” He laughs it off, but I hug him. He’ll never know how much this means to me. My words feeling inadequate, but the only gift I have to give. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you, Frank. This means so much to me. Thank you.” My fingers close around the jewelry and I head inside. It’s time to face my demons. I need to start someday, so I’ll start today, feeling stronger with the bracelet.

When I unlock the door, I’m assaulted by memories. I shake my head, hoping to shake them long enough to stay. They’re memories haunting the apartment, not her. Still, I wish I could call out her name and she’d come racing into the living room from her room.

Raising my chin, I go inside and shut the door behind me. I ignore her room, not even looking in that direction when I go to mine. Opening the door to the tiny closet, I take a quick inventory and then bend down and dig out a few flattened boxes I stored under the bed.

Tossing them on the bed, I’m grabbed from behind, a hand over my mouth, taking away any option of screaming. “You should have saved me a dance, Ms. Davis.”

My mind goes into overdrive. I know that voice. “The very lovely Singer Davis. Maybe you’ll save a dance for me?”

The charity ball.

Oh my God.

His hand loosens and his mouth is at my ear, my body cringing. “Can I trust you not to scream for help?”

My thoughts are ping-ponging around my brain in rapid succession. I nod slowly, and his hand lowers. “If you scream, I’ll kill you before anyone can save you. Then I’ll kill your family. Do you understand?”

Nodding, I reply quietly, “Yes.”

When I turn around, I come face-to-face with the man responsible for killing my best friend, and my would-be killer.

The man Ethan despises.