Karen Kendall - Unzipped?

She changed the subject, embarrassed. “So I handed out over twenty business cards at the University Women’s Club dinner last night.”

“Good work. Now let’s hope at least five percent of them call.” Jane picked up the ringing phone. “Finesse, Jane O’Toole speaking.”

Shannon and Lilia moved into the kitchen as she took the business call. “So how’s your grandma, Lil?”

Her friend sighed. “She’s…putting a brave face on things. Knee replacement surgery is just no fun, any way you look at it. It hurts her a lot. She loves the basket of teas and cookies you brought her, though.”

“Well, good. Hope she’s using it, not just admiring the arrangement. I’ll have to go see her again later this week. Poor thing.”

“She refuses to take the roses out of the china teapot, even though they’re quite wilted at this point. Once I manage to toss them—probably while she’s asleep—she might let me actually make tea in the pot.”

Shannon laughed. “Please forbid her to write me a thank-you note.”

Lil tucked her straight dark hair behind her ears. “Already done. Heavy, monogrammed, cream paper—engraved, no thermography. Written with an actual fountain pen. Wax seal. First class stamp. Most likely sitting in your mailbox this second.”

Groan. “At least we know you come by your manners honestly, Miz Vanderbilt.”

Lilia’s expression came as close to an actual eye roll as she would ever get.

“Give Nana a real hug from me—the boob-squashing, shoulder-to-shoulder affectionate kind, okay? Not one of those air-kiss-to-dry-cheek, flutter-fingers-on-back types.” Shannon mimicked a freeze-dried socialite.

“I’ll do that.”

“Hey, Lil? Do you know a Peggy Underwood? Small, high energy, shock of red hair?”

“Yes. Let’s see, I met her through…” She pursed her lips, thinking. “Oh, at the veterinarian’s. She had a cockatiel. I had Pierre, Nana’s poodle, there for his shots. Anyway, we got to talking and I gave her one of your cards. She mentioned a brother who needs help.”

“Yeah. A lot of help, from what she told me—she stopped by yesterday. Said I’d have to call him, since her nagging might not get good results.”

“That’s a little awkward, isn’t it?”

“Yup. Picture me calling. ‘Hello, Mr. Underwood? I hear you’re looking straight off the set of Planet of the Apes, honey. Come see me, would ya, dear?’”

Lil choked on her coffee. “Subtle. Very subtle.”

Shan took a mock bow. “My specialty.”

“You don’t even know how to spell subtle, darling.” Lil tipped the rest of her coffee into her mouth and moved toward the pot for a refill.

“I don’t want to spell it,” Shannon said. “My business is to teach people how to make a statement. A powerful statement. Subtle doesn’t cut it.”

“Subtle can be powerful,” Lil disagreed.

“No, it’s conformist.”

“It’s confident.”

“Color is confident. Subtle is meek.”

“Not meek, elegant.”

“Why, Lil! You’re arguing. That’s not polite.” Shannon laughed as her friend’s eyes snapped. “Okay, we’ll call it a draw. Anyway, so what would you say if you had to contact this Underwood guy?”

“I’d tell him that you met his sister and that she suggested you give him a call to set up an appointment. Straightforward, true, no awkwardness about it.”

Shannon nodded. “Okay. I can do that. I’ll wait a couple of days to see if he gets in touch first, though. I don’t want to be pushy.” She finished her own coffee and went for a second cup.

Jane, from the doorway, said, “Oh, please don’t do that! You on too much caffeine is scary.”

Shannon put a hand on her hip and grinned wickedly. “Hey, Jane. What happens when a psychologist and a hooker spend the night together?”

“No! Not more shrink jokes…”

“In the morning, each of them says, ‘One hundred and twenty dollars, please.’” She laughed at Jane’s pained expression.

“Hey, what’s the difference between—”

Jane clapped her hands over her ears.

“—a psychologist and a magician?” She spoke louder. “A psychologist pulls habits out of rats!”

Her friend backed out of the kitchen. “I have work to do now. Keep your terrible jokes to yourself.”

“Aw, c’mon. One more. Why is psychoanalysis so much cheaper for a man than a woman?”

“I’m not encouraging you.”

“Because when it’s time to go back to childhood, a man is already there.”

“That’s no joke,” Jane said, with a smirk.

“Ha. See, I have wisdom to impart. You should listen to me.”

“Lilia, we’ve gotta start making the coffee half-caf. She’s out of control again!”

Lil poked her head around the corner and narrowed her eyes. “You know…it’s almost as if she’s had sugar this morning.”

Shan gave them a Mona Lisa smile.

“Doughnuts!” they shrieked.

She dangled her keys and Jane made a grab for them. One benefit of being tall was that keep-away was so easy. “Krispy Kremes. I left them in the car,” she said. “Just to be mean.”

“PEGGY, LEAVE ME ALONE!” Hal Underwood said to his little sister. He brushed the hair out of his eyes again and pushed up his glasses. “This company’s going public in a month, and I have one or two things to take care of.” Not to mention some detective work to do…

Peggy Underwood, five foot two, red-headed and snub-nosed, stood her ground. Under any other circumstances, she’d be adorable. Today, she was a menace.

“I will not leave you alone. You’ve been a loner all your life, and it’s time for that to change. Whether you like it or not, Hal, it’s not healthy for a thirty-five-year-old man to date his computer!”

Hal devoted his right brain to her, while multitasking with his left. The criticism bounced right off him. A cow has four stomachs. If only I had four brains, I could keep up with everything.

“Hal! Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I heard you. I am not romantically involved with my computer.”

Peg narrowed her eyes. “Do you have dinner with it?”

Hal shrugged and nodded.

“Breakfast?”

He sighed.

“You even take it to bed, don’t you?”

I’m going to lose this battle.

“You. Are. Dating. Your. Computer.”

“Peggy, for chrissakes, did Mom put you up to this?” Hal cracked his neck, in hope of easing some tension. How the hell has my company sprung an information leak?

“No. Although yesterday, the last thing she said to me on the phone was, ‘Oy, veh—I’m a cliché!’” Peggy shook her head. “As a poet, that’s her worst nightmare, you know. To be a cliché. But there’s no denying she wants grandchildren.”

“So get on with it, Pegs.” Hal ignored her for his computer screen. Has someone hacked in?

“Oh, no. I’ve told you—it’s not my fate to procreate.”

“Is that what you said to Mom?” We’ve locked down the firewalls and secured all the servers. It can’t be the e-mail system. We monitor that 24-7.

Peggy nodded. “You know things have more impact with Mom if they rhyme.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “Oy veh—ridiculous. She’s not even Jewish.”

“The rhyme, Hal. Her version of reason.”

“Well, here’s my version of reason—go away. I’m trying to work.” He brushed the hair from his eyes a second time. It flopped back again immediately.

“Hal, have you looked into a mirror lately? You resemble a serial killer. When was the last time you got a haircut? And that shirt—has it been wadded up in a trash bag?”

“Dryer,” he mumbled, his fingers flying over the keyboard of his PC.

Peggy did her best to loom over him, but she didn’t cast much of a shadow. “Hal. Hal, if you don’t pay attention to me this minute, I will pull out all the cords from the back of this computer. I’ll count to three.”