The Lost Bird Read Free Page A

is why you fired him. Isn’t that a fact?”
    The owner had sputtered and hedged, attempting to recall his own words. But they had been spoken; they existed. Truth had a way of bursting forth, and now it was on the record.
    She expected to receive a settlement offer tomorrow. Before she left the office that afternoon, she intended to go over the numbers: what constituted a fair settlement for a twenty-five-year employee, unjustly fired and deprived of retirement benefits?
    As she flipped through her notes, she heard a small scuffling noise, like a chair scraping the floor in the outer office. She glanced at her watch. Five-thirty. She’d assumed that Laola White Plume, her secretary, had already left. She should have locked the front door.
    Vicky got to her feet as the door to the outer office flung open. Laola slipped inside. Pushing the door behind her, she leaned against the panels. Little beads of perspiration sprinkled her nose, as if she’d just come in from the rain. Her dark eyes were blazing. “You’re not gonna believe who’s out there,” she said in a whisper of excitement.
    Ben
, Vicky thought. She could feel her stomachmuscles tighten. There was always excitement in the secretary’s voice when she passed on a message that Vicky’s ex-husband had called. But women always found Ben exciting. He’d called several times last week, and Vicky had managed to put him off: So much work staring at her. A full schedule. Clients to meet. All true. She put in long days at the office. She was grateful for an occasional quiet evening at home. And she didn’t want Ben back in her life.
    “Who is it?” she asked matter-of-factly.
    Laola started toward the desk. Dressed in a sleeveless blouse and short, too tight skirt that revealed her long, brown legs, she looked like the new high-school graduate she’d been last spring when Vicky hired her. Leaning over the desk, as if to confide a secret to her best friend, she whispered, “Sharon David.”
    “Who?” Vicky searched for a face to fill out the name.
    “The Sky People. The Cowgirls. Ranger Woman.”
Laola emphasized each syllable. “She got the nomination for an Academy Award for
Ranger Woman.
Should have gotten the Oscar, too.”
    Vicky held the secretary’s eyes. “Are you sure it’s Sharon David?”
    Laola nodded so hard, her shoulders shook. “Can you believe it? A movie star! Waiting to see you.” She flung one arm toward the closed door.
    Silently Vicky ticked off the possible scenarios that might bring a Hollywood star to a one-woman law office in Lander, Wyoming. Purchase some real estate in the area, perhaps a ranch. Scout the location for a movie. Neither explanation made sense. Sharon David would have her own lawyers and a phalanx of otherpeople to handle such matters. She said, “Ask her to come in.”
    Laola swung around and let herself through the door. In an instant she returned, ushering in a tall, striking-looking woman. Vicky realized the billboards and movie screens didn’t do Sharon David justice. She crossed the office with the grace and self-possession of a star moving onto center stage. Pale blue dress flowing about the straps of her high-heeled sandals, suede bag the color of honey draping from one shoulder. Tied around her head was a dark blue scarf that held her black hair back from her face, emphasizing the prominent cheekbones, the dark, almond-shaped eyes, and the golden brown cast of her skin. Her nose was small and came to a perfect point; the lips surprisingly full and a deep red color, like that of her square-tipped nails. She was in her mid-thirties, Vicky decided, only six or seven years younger than herself. She might be Asian or Middle Eastern. Yet there was something about her, some indescribable way of being. Sharon David was Indian.
    Vicky reached across the desk and shook the movie star’s hand. Her grip was firm and determined. “What brings you to Lander, Miss David?” She motioned the actress to one of the