Lane looked through the “Urgent” messages.  There were two.  One from Ben Bellini at 7:05 reminding her about dinner; the other from Mick McGuire at 7:50 that said, “Please call.”  She picked up the phone and dialed Mick’s cell.

“McGuire.”

Lane was unsure how to address him.  Somehow, Detective didn’t seem right any more, and yet Mick seemed wrong too. “Lane Parker,” she said in the hope that he’d give her a cue to follow.

“How’s your head this morning?”

Lane still didn’t know if they were really on a first name basis.  “Much better, thank-you.  I had a very nice neck and shoulder massage last night and then I got a really good night’s sleep,” she replied as she rolled her head from one shoulder to the other in a circular motion.  It really was the most relaxed she’d felt in days.

“Glad I could help,” he replied as he wondered if she’d spent the night sleeping in Ben’s arms.

“Lane, I called because I seem to have misplaced my sunglasses.  I had them when I drove you home yesterday afternoon.  Since it was dark when I left, I didn’t miss them until this morning.  I’m hoping you’ve found them.”

Lane did a quick mental check.  She didn’t recall seeing any extra sunglasses.  “No, I haven’t seen them.  Any idea where you might have set them down?  I wasn’t in very good shape yesterday afternoon, you know.”  She said remembering he’d left her briefcase in the den.  “But if they’d been near my laptop, I’d have seen them this morning.”

“I probably put them on the night stand when I was reading.”

“Since my sons are out of town this week, there’s no one home right now.  Listen, you know the code to the garage door.  Why don’t you just drop by and check? ” She figured after all, not only was he a friend of Ben’s he was a cop.  If it wasn’t safe to have him in the house when no one was home, then it wasn’t safe to have anyone there.

“I appreciate the offer, but the truth is I don’t remember the code.  Even if I did, I don’t think I’d be comfortable going in without you.  I thought maybe if you didn’t have lunch plans, I could pick you up, buy you lunch, and maybe we could swing by your house to check for them then.”

Lane picked up the list of appointments Meg had left for her.  “Will 11:30 work for you?  I have a 1:30 meeting.”

“That’s good for me.  Eleven-thirty in front of your building then.”

Lane poured a cup of tea and picked up the “No Rush” stack of messages, only one was of any importance.  Craig Turner wanted to talk after she’d read his report.  She pulled out a green high lighter and a green felt tip pen.  Her second husband, Phillip Parker, who apparently had latent teacher tendencies, always used a red pen to make notes, even on the grocery list as though he were correcting every written word in the house.  She had come to hate red ink.

When she got through the first page, Lane accessed the California state web site so she could read the actual wording of the law herself. Craig Turner might have a law degree, but she wanted to see it herself.  It was the same way she approached her devotional Bible reading.  Sometimes she had as many as four Bible translations, a Bible dictionary, and a concordance open on the bed in an attempt to decipher the meaning of a single word within the context of a phrase.  Lane printed pages from the web site and made notes on them as well as making references back to Craig’s report.  In no time, her desk could have appeared as the cover photo on Organized Chaos – if there were such a magazine.  Her teapot was empty and it was time to move on to Diet Dr. Pepper.  It was also a good time for a stretch and a walk down the hall.

Meg was on her phone and as Lane passed, Meg put the call on hold.  “Did you possibly forget to tell me something,” Meg asked.

“I may have.”  Lane looked at her guiltily.  “What is it,” she said sheepishly.

Meg pointed to a huge bouquet of red tipped yellow roses and handed Lane a card.

“Yellow for friendship, red for passion all for you and our new relationship. Happy two-month anniversary.  See you at seven.  Ben.”  She handed the card and envelope back to Meg not bothering to replace the card in the envelope.  Lane knew Meg would read it anyway.

“I’m on my way down the hall.  Will you put them in my office?” Lane chuckled as she walked away.  She loved Meg who was often “in her business,” but Lane never found it annoying.  In fact, she usually found it humorous.  Meg was in her mid-twenties, had never been married, and had a two year old daughter from a relationship that had ended badly just before she found out she was pregnant.  Lane had to applaud her decision to have and keep the baby.  Many women, of any age, in those circumstances would have made a different decision.  Lane also admired Meg’s parents who had taken a nonjudgmental stand and helped her by allowing her to move back home and providing very low cost day care.

This was Meg’s first Corporate America job.  She’d gotten a degree in Marketing and had been working at Dillard’s.  When she found out she was pregnant, she wanted a job that gave her nights, weekends and holidays off.  Besides that, she needed to earn enough money to support herself, and a child, and Telco Unlimited provided a good salary and great health insurance.  As luck would have it for both of them, this was the first job Meg had applied for, and she was the first person Lane had interviewed.  They just hit it off.

Lane returned to her office and found Meg moving the roses from one location to another searching for the perfect spot.  She pointed to the credenza on the wall near the door to the conference room, “What about over there where I can see them as I sit at my desk?”

Meg picked up the vase.  It was almost as big as she was.  Lane hadn’t noticed earlier, but there must have been two dozen roses in the vase.

“Judging from the size of this bouquet, Ben’s decided to step things up.  He must be worried now that Mick McGuire’s on the scene.”

Lane looked at her watch, and gasped.  It was 11:35 and she was late again.  “I’ve got to run.”  She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.  “I’m on my cell.  I’ll be back in time for my 1:30 meeting.”

Mick was sitting at the curb.  When he saw Lane come out of the building, he got out and opened the passenger door for her.  As he wondered if she was ever on time for anything, he said, Lady’s choice.  Where are we headed for lunch?”

“I’m craving pie.  Is Aunt Em’s Diner okay?  It’s sort of on the way to my house and they have the best pie around.”

Mick laughed. She had a great body, not an ounce of fat as far as he could see anyway, and since he’d seen her in her nightshirt yesterday, he’d seen a lot.  “Somehow, I didn’t figure you for a dessert person.”

“Hmm, shows what kind of detective you are.  I love dessert.  Have you heard the saying, ‘Life’s short, order dessert first’?  I’ve been known to order two desserts and skip the entree.”

“Well, you see, there’s a reason for that.  I’m a homicide detective.  I may not have detected your sweet tooth yet, but I can promise you that if you ever use it to commit a murder, I’d figure it out.”

They both laughed.

“You have a great laugh,” Mick said as he turned out of the parking lot.

Lane had always had a full-bodied audacious laugh.  During lunch, Lane discovered what a witty guy Mick was.  He joked, she laughed.  They talked about kids, hers, and his.  They had a lot in common they each had three kids.  They each had two boys and a girl.  He was impressed that Jamie was heading to West Point next year.  He hadn’t raised his kids alone as she had and he knew how much trouble kids could get in.  His boys had been a bit of a handful.  Michael, who was 27, married and expecting his first child around Christmas was a pharmacist.  His middle child, Shane was 25 and a sports reporter for the local FOX affiliate now.  But, in his high school and college days, he was a football jock.  He’d been a good kid who had a harem of girls following him around.  Where a harem of girls were, problems followed.  Mick told Lane about the day when he Gloria had awoken to find every tree in the yard draped with toilet paper.  Shane’s car sat in the drive way covered in whipped cream, and a huge sign in the yard declared Shane was the biggest lying two faced jerk, (although not in those exact words) at Rockhurst High School.  It seemed he’d been dating two girls at the same time.  The girls were both students at St. Teresa’s Academy and unbeknownst to Shane, were friends who eventually compared notes. Mick’s daughter, Kiley, 23 had recently graduated from nursing school at Kansas University and still lived at home.