Stranded in Paradise Read Free Page A

she was, after all . . .
    Mona.
    The dread word surfaced in her consciousness as she rode to the ground floor. She could hear her mother’s voice now: Well, the news doesn’t surprise me. You always mess up somehow. She slid into her Acura, and flipped on the car defrosters. As she drove out of the garage, she realized that the rain was falling in sheets. She pulled into traffic, erratically swerving to miss an oncoming public transportation bus.
    Len Connor could not humiliate her this way. She had helped his father build Connor.com . She couldn’t be replaced by a ruthless whim, and that was all this ploy was. Len had always been jealous of the trust his father had put in her. Now that he was in charge he was rubbing her nose in it.
    But he’d see Connor.com couldn’t run without her— and it wouldn’t take Len long to recognize it. Not once things started falling apart.

    Tess unlocked the door to her condo and flicked on the light . More than anything else, her home was a deliberate reminder of how far up the ladder she had climbed. Colonial blue walls with white trim, white sofa, blue-and-white striped Queen Anne chairs, a tall lemon-yellow vase holding a silk arrangement of willows and forsythia had all been chosen to create an impression of pristine cleanliness. She remembered the dirty, dismal house she had grown up in and shuddered. How had she survived?
    Shucking off her shoes, she made her way to the kitchen, where she scooped up a bowl of ice cream and topped it with a drizzle of Hershey’s syrup. She dug her spoon in and lifted it to her mouth when she noticed a long hair trailing out of it. “Eww!” She groaned and gazed down at the counter where three more strands innocently lay. “Not again,” she said. She set the ice cream down and made her way to the bathroom where she studied herself in the mirror. It didn’t look like she was losing her hair, but lately it seemed as if she’d found strands everywhere: in her checkbook, on reports for work, in her food . . .
    She lifted a brush from the counter and gave her taffy-color hair a few strokes when the phone began jangling.
    â€œTess?” a voice said when she picked up.
    â€œBeeg?” Tess said. Bee Gee had been her college roommate. She’d since made a name for herself as an artist working primarily in watercolor.
    â€œSay, I was calling about your trip next week. There’s this show in New York—”
    â€œOh, Beeg!” She moaned, the tears she’d so carefully held in now flowing freely. “That, that oaf Len Connor had the gall to fire me this morning! Can you believe this?”
    â€œOh, honey,” Beeg consoled. “I’m so sorry.”
    Tess sobbed in big gulps. “He actually thought I’d take a job in payroll when he knows I’ve been practically running the company these past few months.”
    â€œSo, what are you going to do about it? How high up is his office? Maybe you could throw rocks at his window.”
    That brought a smile to Tess’s waterlogged cheeks.
    â€œYou always could cheer me up.”
    â€œMaybe you should come next week anyway. It could be a vacation instead of a business trip. I’m sure you have money squirreled away.”
    â€œI do still have the ticket . . .” She glanced at her briefcase by the door. “But it wouldn’t be right. I didn’t pay for it.”
    â€œWas it right for Len Connor to fire you?” Beeg defended.
    â€œNo . . .”
    â€œSo you need time to regroup, think through what you want to do next. What better place than in Hawaii with your best friend?”
    â€œYou know I’d love to spend some time with you,” Tess began, “but I just don’t know if I’m ready now. There’s just too much . . .”
    â€œAnd your perfect little schedule can’t adjust?” Beeg said with kindness in her voice. “I know all about it. But if you