LITMIR.BIZ

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      Lavon didn’t miss the quick change in King’s demeanor, or in the subject matter. “We used five there. Here, we’ll use six, an additional hand-held for special shots.” And then, because he couldn’t resist, “I’m not trying to be out of line, Preach, but is she an old flame or something? She was looking all nostalgic when talking about you. I mean, I’m just asking. She said y’all hadn’t seen each other in years.”

      She was right. It had been a long time. Every now and then he’d wondered if she still lived overseas and how she was doing. Tootie had been a wildcat back in the day; that “cat” had gotten him in trouble more than once. That girl did everything, was a real daredevil. He and his friends used to compare notes afterward.

      Lavon watched King try and remain impassive. But he was convinced some past passion lay just beneath the facade.

      King was just about to respond to Von’s question when Joseph stuck his head in the doorway. “Everyone’s gathered in the conference room. Should I tell them we’re ready to begin?”

      King was up and out of his seat in a flash, reaching for the suit coat he’d removed earlier. He was glad for the interruption, so the conversation about Tootie could come to an end. Relieved to not have to ponder the feelings that the mention of her name evoked. With determination, he channeled his thoughts to the tasks at hand—running Mount Zion Progressive, a million-dollar corporation, for the Lord.

      6

      Mercy…Peace…Love…

      Millicent stopped working and stretched. She grabbed the arm of her chair with both hands and twisted her back, grabbed the other chair arm and repeated the motion. She still felt tight. Looking at her watch, she understood why. Where had the time gone? It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon and she’d been hard at work, barely moving from her computer, since before eight. It’s time for a break, she thought, saving her work and punching in the code that sent her phone calls to the company’s answering system.

      “Back in an hour,” she said cheerfully to the receptionist.

      “Oh my goodness, you’re just now getting out for lunch?” the receptionist asked. “And it’s such a beautiful day!”

      “I’ve barely looked up from the computer long enough to notice, but you’re right.” Millicent quickly checked her mail slot and added, “I might make it an hour and a half.”

      “There you go, you deserve it. You’ve been working nonstop.”

      Millicent smiled and headed for the door. Her therapist was right. Getting back to work had been helpful. The workplace had always been an area where she felt in control, and here was no different. The long hours and hard work had been therapeutic, and productive. She’d already made big strides toward Innovative Design’s new marketing direction.

      Millicent stepped out into a typically beautiful February afternoon in California. The sky was a brilliant blue and after the rains of earlier in the week, crystal clear. She greeted two of her colleagues as they passed her on their way back into the office, hopped into her Infiniti coupe, and quickly maneuvered out of the parking lot. But instead of taking a left toward her usual lunch locale, a quaint shopping center a few blocks down, she took a right and decided to drive toward the ocean. Maybe she could enjoy a quick stroll and a sandwich. Yes, the beach sounded like a great choice.

      San Diego was growing on her, and she’d already fallen in love with her condo in La Jolla. She’d initially balked at the large purchase. The housing market had grown absolutely ridiculous in the five years since she’d purchased her last abode, and she’d felt reluctant to take on such a huge debt. But in the end, she’d figured that not only was the condo a good investment, but it allowed her to live as she desired, in an affluent neighborhood. Her new complex boasted every amenity, including swimming pools, three hot tubs, an exercise room, sauna, doorman, lounge with a pool table and big screen TV, and an exquisitely designed club house for parties and other social functions. Fortunately her good credit, and her ability to place a large down payment with some of the profit from her previous condo sale, allowed her to get a good interest rate, reasonable terms, and a manageable mortgage. She was also glad she’d decided to sell her old furniture and start fresh with her new home’s decor. The only things she’d kept were her personal accessories and artwork, including the prized Henry Tanner original, The Annunciation.

      Millicent was still becoming familiar with the streets of San Diego, so it was a half hour before she found what she was looking for, a small strip of shops next to the ocean. She pulled into a parking lot and stopped by the attendant’s booth. Within minutes, she was following the bike path several yards from the water. She’d removed her suit jacket and was sorely tempted to take off her shoes, but refrained. Just seeing and hearing the water was enough. There was something immensely soothing about the waves ebbing and tiding against the shore. She’d walked for less than ten minutes when she could resist no more. She eased out of her two-inch-heeled sandals and cautiously stepped into the sand. The ocean seemed to call her, and she obeyed the urge to move closer, let the water touch her feet. For several moments she stood there, head tilted up slightly, eyes closed, breathing in deep breaths of the moist, sea air. Opening her eyes, she gazed out to the ocean’s edge, a mirage, of course, because the ocean went on forever, past the Hawaiian Islands, past Japan, beyond China, and on until it joined quietly, seamlessly, with the Arabian Sea.

      There was such gratitude pouring from her heart in this moment. No one could have convinced her she’d ever live in California again, much less be working and enjoying it. From the beginning, Innovative Designs had made it clear that they wanted her to come on full-time, and now she was actually considering their offer. It was a great group of people—less than twenty made up the whole company—and it had a decidedly family feel. She’d objected adamantly at first but Bob, the brilliantly charming president, was slowly wearing down her resolve. The near six-figure salary he’d waved in front of her was part of the company’s attraction as well.

      There was yet another attraction. Working at Innovative Designs kept Millicent’s mind off Cy, at least what had been daily, continuous thoughts of him. Since beginning her work there, she’d actually experienced twenty-four-hour periods when she didn’t think of Cy at all. She still dreamed of him, but not as often. And yes, a part of her heart still ached for him, still loved him. Millicent didn’t know if that would ever go away.

      She wondered if he and Hope were married yet. That had been one of her worst days, when Alison had phoned her with the news that Cy was engaged. In a last, desperate act, she’d dialed him as soon as she hung up from Alison. All of his numbers, home, office and cell, had been changed. His engagement told the world what Millicent couldn’t tell herself: she and Cy would not be together. But why couldn’t it have been me, God? Why did another woman’s dreams come true? But they had. Cy had Hope, but ironically, Millicent’s hope of having Cy was gone.

      Millicent sighed, breathed deeply, and then turned back toward the bike path and the small outdoor café she’d passed on the way. Once back on the sidewalk, she was reminded why she hadn’t wanted to take her shoes off in the first place. She stopped and tried unsuccessfully to wipe the sand off her feet. She slipped back into her sandals and covered the short distance to the café. Only one of the six or so tables was occupied. She ordered a fish sandwich with fries and an iced tea, chose a table a safe distance from the other lone diner, and took a seat. Trying to recapture her former light mood, she reached for her iPod. She’d just slipped on her headphones and punched in Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony in F Major when a shadow came over the table. She didn’t look up, thought it was the waiter again.

      “Good afternoon.” The voice was deep, melodious.

      Millicent looked up into blue eyes and a sincere smile. “Good afternoon,” she replied, with no enthusiasm.

      “I don’t mean to bother you, but would you mind terribly if I sat with you a few moments?”

      Millicent did mind; she was in no mood for company, especially of the male variety. She looked around pointedly at the other empty tables and noted that the man before

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