Page 70 of Postmarked December

Was he trying to smooth over the fact that he was clearly stalling?

“Yes.” She wasn’t going to admit to him how beautiful they were or that their fragrant perfume made her house smell like a million bucks. “Look, I’m only going to entertain this call if you start explaining. Otherwise, I’m hanging up.”

“Wait! Don’t hang up.”

She paused, irritated. If Nick was going to rouse her out of a sound sleep, he’d better talk. And fast.

“Hanging on the doorknob of your apartment is a dress and a pair of shoes. They’re your size. Put them on, and I’ll pick you up at six o’clock tonight. Then I’ll tell you everything. Cross my heart.”

“No. I’m not playing your games. Tell me now.”

“It’s the last thing I’ll ask of you, and then you can decide whether or not you want to speak to me again.”

He had her. She had to comply if she wanted to get to the bottom of all this.

“Fine.” She’d do what he asked, hear him out, and then never cross paths with him again.

“All right, see you tonight,” he said enthusiastically.

She hung up the phone, groaned, and rubbed her sleepy eyes. Then she immediately called Marion and told her what was going on.

“Do you need a wingman?” she asked.

“I can hold my own with Nick,” she replied.

“What does the dress look like?”

“I haven’t gotten it from the front door. Hang on.” She peered through the peephole to make sure no one was going to jump out at her when she tried to get the dress. The coast was clear. Quickly, she opened the door, grabbed the bags, and yanked them inside, locking the bolt once more. She unzipped the garment bag and sucked in a breath. “It’s a floor-length beaded red dress.”

“Oh wow. What are you gonna be doing at six? Is he taking you to a New Year’s Eve party?”

She huffed out a moan. “I don’t plan on partying. I need quiet so he can talk.” She opened the shoe box to find a pair of red heels. Then, suddenly, she panicked. “You don’t think he’s making me attend some sort of book launch for the biography, do you?” There was no way she was going to celebrate that.

“I doubt it. He knows how you feel. And it’s New Year’s Eve. Everyone who’s going out will be wearing dresses like that tonight.”

“Should I trust him?” Heather asked.

“Am I rubbing off on you? I’m usually the one to fret over your safety.”

“Maybe you are. And this whole situation has opened my eyes. Not everyone is well-meaning. They don’t always have my best interests at heart.”

“Make sure your phone is charged and call me if you need me. Also, put some pepper spray in your bag, just in case.”

“Good idea.”

“At least we just had a spa day. Your red nails will look gorgeous with a beaded red gown.”

“If only there was a happier occasion to wear it.”

“I want all the details tomorrow,” Marion said.

“You’ll be the first person I call.”

They got off the phone, and Heather sat on the sofa, the dress lying on the coffee table opposite her, her mind reeling. The last thing she wanted to do was go out tonight.

She grabbed the box with the pair of heels, taking one out to slip it onto her foot, when she noticed the red-and-white envelope. While she knew now that Nick had written the notes, seeing one he’d delivered hit home a little harder. She reached into the box and pulled out the envelope. Then she read the message.

I’m taking you to dinner at Marrow and Flame Chophouse. I’ll be outside your apartment right at 6:00. See you tonight.