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The past fourteen months had left her without faith in much of anything anymore. The sudden, devastating loss of her husband to an uninsured drunk driver who’d run a red light. The whispered and crushing comments about their marriage that she’d overheard at his funeral. The exodus from her life of people she’d once thought of as family and friends. Each event had been shattering in its own right. Together, they’d made her afraid to trust much of anything. Or anyone.
And that had been before she’d lost the job Harvey Bleaker had said was hers for as long as she needed it.
The lovely woman with the bookish glasses had appeared out of nowhere. As if by magic, she’d disappeared into the mist the same way, like some sort of a fairy godmother dressed in faux fur and carrying Coach.
Dead certain her sleepless nights had just caught up with her, Rory dropped the card into the open compartment on the console. Whatever had just happened had to be either too good to be true or came with a spiderweb of strings attached to it.
Probably, undoubtedly, both.
Still, she, Tyler and the for-rent section of the newspaper were going apartment hunting in the morning. Having just picked up a check for the small down payment she’d put on the house she hadn’t been able to buy, less fees, she had enough for three or four months’ rent and expenses. In the meantime, feeling a desperate need for either magic or a miracle, she figured she had nothing to lose by checking out the address on that card.
She just hoped that this Erik Sullivan would be as accepting of her circumstances as Mrs. Cornelia Hunt seemed to be.
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