The Flip Read Free

done when they got done and that bottom lines could be adjusted. They had turned a tidy profit, and he had proposed in the last house. Julie’s eyes filled while she remembered how he had prepared a path of rose petals and illuminated the empty living room with dozens of glowing tea lights. He had set up a small bridgetable and prepared a feast of lobsters from his native Maine, along with all the other goodies that come with a clambake. The ring was small but oh so beautiful—an antique Edwardian with tiny sapphires surrounding a small rose-cut diamond. She loved that ring, and when he went down on one knee, she launched herself onto his deep chest, vowing never to leave. Julie shivered in her seat, her face flushed, her lips tingling, thinking of Brad and the wicked way he told her how much he loved her. Her brows drew together as her lips pursed. It had been a long time since he’d done those things to her. Somehow, they collapsed every night lately, back to back, too tired for anything else. She had heard of a seven-year slump, but after two years, it didn’t feel right. If only he’d find a job that excited him; ifonly they could make a great sale and triple their money; if only they could move into that amazing Victorian off Bedlam Street in Cold Spring Harbor they had just purchased. It was so beautiful, resting atop an outcropping of rocks, overlooking the crescent-shaped bay. Julie’s pencil snapped in two; she hadn’t realized she’d been gripping it so tightly.
    The phone buzzed, breaking her concentration. Mr. Wilson’s curt voice came through the receiver. “Get me the Shapiro file.”
    “Which Shapiro? Father or son?”
    “I was on the phone with Doug Shapiro all morning. That should be enough for you to realize which one I want.”
    “I…I was working with Dulcie—”
    “Don’t give me your life story!” The line went dead, and Julie took a long look at her boss’s door. She would love to tell him where to put the file, but she got up to retrieve it. Joanne guarded his door like Charon at the gates of hell.
    “Shapiro?” Joanne held out a strong hand, her nails painted a deep power red.
    “The father. How was I supposed to know?”
    “He pays you to know,” Joanne snapped as she snatched the file, and then she went into the inner sanctum of Barry Wilson’s office.
    Dulcie, Joanne’s assistant, looked up sympathetically from her desk. “It’s not a big deal.”
    “You would think. Maybe I should add mind reader to my job description.”
    Dulcie shushed her with a kind smile, her chocolate-brown eyes dancing. Glancing around, she added, “They hear everything here. Be careful. He’s in a bad mood today.” She took out an energy bar and offered it to Julie, who shook her head no. Dulcie’s brown fingers with bright fuchsia nails stripped off the packaging, crumpling the wrapper and shooting it into the basket.
    Julie smiled with approval, clapped quietly, and said, “She scores.” A frown graced her brow. “He’s always in a bad mood. What makes you think today is any different?”
    “Well, it’s worse than usual.” She leaned closer. “It’s his wife,” she whispered. “I think she’s leaving him.”
    “Oops. That makes three. What’s he going to do now?”
    Dulcie got up and walked around the desk, discreetly looking around. “I’d watch out. I heard he likes to fish in his own pond, if you know what I mean.”
    “That’s not true. Number one was his college sweetheart, two was a flight attendant, and three—”
    “Came from accounting.”
    “Why didn’t I know that?” Julie wondered.
    “It was when you met Brad. You weren’t aware of too much. It was hard to have a coherent conversation with you.”
    “Yeah,” Julie replied. “Those were the days.”
    Joanne came out of the office and eyed the two younger girls. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” she demanded. They scattered apart, Julie leaving for her desk.
    Maybe they would make enough on