“Hell, yeah. He’s going to have a cow. When the murders went down, I’m the only one he didn’t threaten to sue.”
“He wanted answers. I can’t blame the guy. He and his wife had just lost their best friends, and been handed custody of their kid.”
“Blame him? He was more controlled than I would have been under the circumstances. Seeing that poor little girl, what she was going through—hell, I would have resorted to more than threats to get my answers.” Monty shoved his pile of paperwork aside and grabbed a pad and pen. “What’s Morgan Winter’s address? I want to get to her before anyone, including the press, does. She’s going to be freaked out enough by this news without being ambushed by reporters.”
The rustle of paper. “She lives in that brownstone her parents left her on the Upper East Side. She runs a business out of there, too—some kind of high-class matchmaking service.” Gabelli read Monty the address.
“Thanks, Rich. Give me an hour. Then let the dogs out.” Monty blew out a breath. “I hope Morgan Winter can handle this.”
“She’s not a kid anymore, Monty. She’s a grown woman. She’ll be fine.”
“You think so? I’m not so sure. She didn’t just lose her parents that night. She found them, murdered. The kid was traumatized. The only thing that kept her from going completely over the edge was knowing the killer was caught, locked up, and given life without parole. Now I have to tell her he wasn’t.”
IT WAS ONE o’clock, and Morgan’s stomach was growling as she hurried back into the brownstone. She hadn’t eaten a thing all day. In fact, she hadn’t had a minute to breathe since she’d unlocked the doors to Winshore LLC five hours ago. Business at the boutique social agency was hopping. The phones had been ringing off the hook when she left her newest employee, Beth Haynes, and dashed out for her eight-thirty therapy session. They were still ringing when she called to check in a short while ago. The good news was that Beth had informed her Charlie Denton was running late and had pushed back his appointment until three o’clock. That gave Morgan a window of opportunity during which to cram down her sandwich—assuming it was delivered in the next hour.
She brushed the snowflakes off her coat and hung it up, rubbing her arms as she glanced around. Done in rich woods and Oriental rugs, the ground floor was the business hub of Winshore. The second floor, also designated as part of Winshore’s office space, was equally elegant but much cozier. It consisted of a cushy sitting room for interviews and a large, airy living room for photo shoots and fashion consultations.
Upstairs was for relaxation and comfort.
Downstairs was all business and bustle.
Well, not all business. There were personal touches, too: recent client wedding photos on the credenza, some funky art pieces on the desks, and—thanks to Jill Shore, Morgan’s partner and dearest friend—an array of eclectic holiday decorations purchased on her travels. This included an eight-foot Christmas tree that barely cleared the ceiling, a handcrafted Hanukkah menorah Jill had found in Israel, and a Kwanzaa display.
Morgan smiled as she squeezed by the tree to get to Beth’s desk. “No one can accuse us of shortchanging the holidays.”
“That’s certainly true.” Beth blew a few pine needles off her pink cashmere sweater. “And Jill’s still not finished yet. She said something about bells to commemorate the winter solstice, and books to explain its ancient roots.”
Morgan’s amused gaze flitted around the room, settling on the nook beside the fireplace. “Well, we do have one empty corner. I guess that’s the one that’ll take on the winter solstice theme.” She grimaced in response to a loud growl from her stomach. “Any idea if Jonah’s on his way?” she asked hopefully.
Jonah Vaughn was the delivery guy for Lenny’s, the best and the busiest kosher deli in New York. Located on Delancey Street, Lenny’s delivered overstuffed sandwiches to offices all over the Lower East Side and Brooklyn. And while Winshore was clearly outside that delivery zone, Morgan and Jill had a special “in” with the owner. Lenny was Jill’s grandfather. And since Morgan had grown up as a member of the Shore family, he was like a grandfather to her, too.
Beth gave her the thumbs-up. “You’re in luck. Jonah called from the truck right before you walked in. He should be here in ten.”
“Thank goodness. I’m about to pass out from hunger.”
“Well, hang on. Reinforcements are on their way.” Beth swiveled her chair away from the computer and stretched. She was a fresh-faced young woman of twenty-two with a sharp mind, great people skills, and a psychology degree from Northwestern. Morgan had met her at a seminar and snatched her right up. After six months of training, Beth was well on her way to being a fantastic interviewer.
“Anything urgent I should know about?” Morgan picked up the stack of phone messages and began sifting through them.
“A slew of new inquiries.” Beth jotted down a few additional notes. “Speaking of which, how was your meeting at the Waldorf? Rachel Ogden is barely older than I am, but she sounded like a dynamo on the phone.”
“She is.” Morgan handed Beth the information forms Rachel had filled out, together with Morgan’s notes from their interview, ready to be organized in a new client file. “At twenty-five she’s already a high-powered management consultant. I have a few guys from our database in mind for her. Starting with Charlie Denton. He’s in his forties, but Rachel prefers that. I think they’d really hit it off.”
The phone rang again, and Beth blew out her breath. “Break over. Probably another new client.”
“Part of why these calls are coming in fast and furious is Elyse’s doing,” Morgan replied, grinning. “She makes commercial announcements before every spin and aerobic class, and pitches Winshore while perched next to every Lifecycle and treadmill.” Affection laced her tone when she spoke of Jill’s mother, Elyse Shore. The woman was a pistol. She ran an upscale gym on Third Avenue at East Eighty-fifth Street, where the term “word of mouth” took on a whole new meaning.
The front door of the brownstone opened and Jill burst in, shaking snow off her coat. “It’s coming down hard. That’s the bad news. Now the good news. I saw Jonah’s truck. Lunch has arrived. Not a minute too soon, either. My stomach’s growling like something out of a horror movie.”
Shrugging off her coat, Jill continued to talk as she ran her fingers through her hair to dry it. She was more striking than beautiful, with red-gold hair, dark eyes in contrast, and a wide, sensual mouth. And when she smiled—which she did often—her entire face lit up.
“It’s a good thing corned beef has renewing powers,” she informed Morgan. “My afternoon’s going to be crazier than my morning. Back-to-back meetings, first with our accountant, then with our new software designer. Pushed to save money, then pushed to spend it. By six o’clock, my brain will be fried.” She waved away any outstanding concern. “Not to worry. I’m picking up the winter solstice decorations on my way home. The last of the office will be decorated tomorrow morning. Oh, and I’m meeting Mom for dinner. We’re going over the final party details.”
Jill rubbed her palms together for warmth, her eyes sparkling as she contemplated the holiday celebration Winshore was hosting for its clients. “You won’t even recognize Mom’s gym when we’re through with it. Lighting, music, decorations. And enough food to sink a ship. It’ll be fantastic. Before I forget, Dad left a message on my cell. He’s flying in from D.C. tonight. So save some time.”
At long last, Jill stopped to catch her breath, and Morgan found herself marveling, yet again, at her friend’s tireless energy. That was Jill—the whirlwind. She lived life to the fullest, and pushed all the boundaries in the process. She was all about reveling in whatever the world had to offer, and if anyone existed who didn’t like her, Morgan didn’t know about it. Jill was a proverbial breath of fresh air, a sister in all ways but blood, and Morgan adored her.
“Morg?” Jill was eyeing her speculatively, her brows knit with concern. “You okay?”