Holly rolled her eyes then looked back at Daniel. “But you know I’ll do it if that’s the only way we can save the day. I will. But think for a moment. How can you mistake me with Sabrina or vice versa? We look nothing alike!”
“Well, so much for making a case of mistaken identity stick,” Daniel said, resigned.
“Not so fast,” Holly suggested.
Daniel stared at her in confusion. “What do you mean? I thought we just agreed that we won’t tell them that you’re the escort.”
“Yes, we did. But I’m not talking about myself. If we want to convince the paper that this was a case of mistaken identity, then we’ll have to give them a different Sabrina.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following,” Tim interrupted, rubbing his nape.
“So what exactly did you have in mind, Holly?” Daniel asked curiously.
She smiled mysteriously. “Let me work on it. It’ll take a little time to set up, but I’m sure I can pull it off.”
Daniel exchanged a look with Tim, who nodded. “Fine. In the meantime, Tim, can you find me a really good private investigator?” He knew that Tim’s firm regularly used private investigators.
“Local?”
Daniel nodded.
“Sure can. I’ll talk to my guy in San Francisco and have him recommend somebody in New York. What do you want him to do for you?”
“Dig up some dirt on Audrey. Nobody is squeaky clean. We need leverage to get her to go to the paper and admit that the documentation she provided is fake so that they will retract the story.”
“Okay, I’m on it.”
11
Sabrina stood on the front steps, a coffee mug in her hand, and watched the chaos unfolding in the driveway. Several trucks were parked there, and workers were unloading equipment in order to build a tent in the backyard, where the wedding ceremony and the reception would take place.
She bounced down the steps and weaved her way through the throng of workers, watching them with trepidation as they carried long poles toward the back of the house, trampling over Raffaela’s pristine lawn, grazing her beautiful flowerbeds and destroying delicate plants with their boots.
Sabrina cringed, but she knew there was no other way to get to the backyard other than going through the house itself—which was definitely not an option. The workers would knock over priceless vases and other irreplaceable decorative items if they carried the poles through the hallway.
Sabrina turned, not wanting to watch the inevitable chaos any longer, when a FedEx van stopped at the end of the driveway. She waited until the driver jumped out and walked toward her, an envelope in hand.
“Good morning,” she greeted the courier.
“Morning. I have a delivery for a Miss Sabrina Palmer,” he replied.
“That’s me.” Sabrina smiled and took the letter he held out to her.
“Please sign here.”
Sabrina placed the mug on the stone fence and scrawled her signature on the display window of the electronic device then handed it back to him. “Here you go.”
“Have a nice day,” he said and turned back to his van.
Curious, Sabrina ripped the envelope open. Inside was a single piece of paper. A letterhead from her current employer: Yellin, Vogel, and Winslow.
Her heart stopped. Once before, when she’d lived in San Francisco, she’d received a letter from her employer, also delivered by courier. It hadn’t been good news back then, and she had the feeling that it wouldn’t be good news now either.
Dear Ms. Palmer, it read.
This letter is to advise you that your employment with Yellin, Vogel, and Winslow is hereby terminated effective immediately.
You may collect your belongings at the front desk upon returning from your leave of absence.
It was signed by the office manager, not even by one of the partners.
Sabrina’s heart raced. They were firing her? Without giving any reason? A sense of déjà vu hit her. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.
Tears burned her eyes as she reached for her cell phone. Surely this had to be some sort of mistake. She’d done nothing to warrant this. In fact, right before the leave of absence they had granted her to prepare for the wedding and go on a proper honeymoon, the partners had told her how well she was doing. Mrs. Vogel had even expressed her pleasure with Sabrina’s performance on the job thus far.
She dialed.
“Law offices of Yellin, Vogel, and Winslow. How may I direct your call?”
“Hi Martha, this is Sabrina Palmer. May I please speak to one of the partners, whichever one is available, it doesn’t really matter who,” Sabrina said with impatience as she paced back and forth on the driveway.
“Well, so much for making a case of mistaken identity stick,” Daniel said, resigned.
“Not so fast,” Holly suggested.
Daniel stared at her in confusion. “What do you mean? I thought we just agreed that we won’t tell them that you’re the escort.”
“Yes, we did. But I’m not talking about myself. If we want to convince the paper that this was a case of mistaken identity, then we’ll have to give them a different Sabrina.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following,” Tim interrupted, rubbing his nape.
“So what exactly did you have in mind, Holly?” Daniel asked curiously.
She smiled mysteriously. “Let me work on it. It’ll take a little time to set up, but I’m sure I can pull it off.”
Daniel exchanged a look with Tim, who nodded. “Fine. In the meantime, Tim, can you find me a really good private investigator?” He knew that Tim’s firm regularly used private investigators.
“Local?”
Daniel nodded.
“Sure can. I’ll talk to my guy in San Francisco and have him recommend somebody in New York. What do you want him to do for you?”
“Dig up some dirt on Audrey. Nobody is squeaky clean. We need leverage to get her to go to the paper and admit that the documentation she provided is fake so that they will retract the story.”
“Okay, I’m on it.”
11
Sabrina stood on the front steps, a coffee mug in her hand, and watched the chaos unfolding in the driveway. Several trucks were parked there, and workers were unloading equipment in order to build a tent in the backyard, where the wedding ceremony and the reception would take place.
She bounced down the steps and weaved her way through the throng of workers, watching them with trepidation as they carried long poles toward the back of the house, trampling over Raffaela’s pristine lawn, grazing her beautiful flowerbeds and destroying delicate plants with their boots.
Sabrina cringed, but she knew there was no other way to get to the backyard other than going through the house itself—which was definitely not an option. The workers would knock over priceless vases and other irreplaceable decorative items if they carried the poles through the hallway.
Sabrina turned, not wanting to watch the inevitable chaos any longer, when a FedEx van stopped at the end of the driveway. She waited until the driver jumped out and walked toward her, an envelope in hand.
“Good morning,” she greeted the courier.
“Morning. I have a delivery for a Miss Sabrina Palmer,” he replied.
“That’s me.” Sabrina smiled and took the letter he held out to her.
“Please sign here.”
Sabrina placed the mug on the stone fence and scrawled her signature on the display window of the electronic device then handed it back to him. “Here you go.”
“Have a nice day,” he said and turned back to his van.
Curious, Sabrina ripped the envelope open. Inside was a single piece of paper. A letterhead from her current employer: Yellin, Vogel, and Winslow.
Her heart stopped. Once before, when she’d lived in San Francisco, she’d received a letter from her employer, also delivered by courier. It hadn’t been good news back then, and she had the feeling that it wouldn’t be good news now either.
Dear Ms. Palmer, it read.
This letter is to advise you that your employment with Yellin, Vogel, and Winslow is hereby terminated effective immediately.
You may collect your belongings at the front desk upon returning from your leave of absence.
It was signed by the office manager, not even by one of the partners.
Sabrina’s heart raced. They were firing her? Without giving any reason? A sense of déjà vu hit her. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.
Tears burned her eyes as she reached for her cell phone. Surely this had to be some sort of mistake. She’d done nothing to warrant this. In fact, right before the leave of absence they had granted her to prepare for the wedding and go on a proper honeymoon, the partners had told her how well she was doing. Mrs. Vogel had even expressed her pleasure with Sabrina’s performance on the job thus far.
She dialed.
“Law offices of Yellin, Vogel, and Winslow. How may I direct your call?”
“Hi Martha, this is Sabrina Palmer. May I please speak to one of the partners, whichever one is available, it doesn’t really matter who,” Sabrina said with impatience as she paced back and forth on the driveway.
