Forget Me Not (Fern Michaels) by Fern Michaels

Author:Fern Michaels
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2014-03-25T04:00:00+00:00

It was eleven thirty on the dot when Angie ripped off the last strip of packing tape and stuck it on a cardboard carton in the studio. “That does it, I think. The packers can load up their van and transport everything tomorrow. Be sure they sign off on it.”

“Yes, Mother,” Lucy drawled. “I cannot tell you how good my foot feels. I don’t think I’ll have a bit of trouble driving. The slipper has a thick sole. I’m good, and do not even think about trying to talk me out of it.”

“Stop reading my mind, Lucy.”

“Then stop thinking such negative thoughts,” Lucy snapped. “Bring the boxes.”

“I have them. Can we take this roll of tape?”

“Why not? I’m paying for it.”

The two young women worked like beavers as they emptied out the safe and wrapped up the guns and ammunition in towels and bed linens and loaded them into four different boxes. Angie taped the boxes, and Lucy used a black grease pencil to label them PALE BLUE BED LINENS. The second box was labeled WINTER BLANKETS, and the third, SUMMER CLOTHES.

“They aren’t too heavy for you to carry out to the chair rail, are they?” Lucy asked.

“I can carry them. Are you sure we didn’t forget anything?”

“I’m sure. The safe is closed. And I have the umbrella wires in my purse. I think we’re good to go, Angie. When we get back, all we have left to do is pack up our clothes and we’ll be ready to go in the morning. Oh, and empty out the fridge and freezer.”

“Are you taking your Crock-Pots?”

Lucy had to think about that for a moment. “Absolutely, I’m taking them.”

Angie laughed. “Now, that’s the Lucy I know and love. I’ll pack them up.”

It was exactly 12:20 when Lucy climbed behind the wheel of her father’s Range Rover. Angie was driving the packed-to-the-roof Saturn.

“Phone’s ringing!” Angie shouted. “Do you want me to get it?”

“They’ll call back if it’s important. Or they’ll call my cell phone.” Well, no, they won’t, actually, Lucy thought, because I left it on the kitchen counter. She told herself it wasn’t a problem as she backed the Rover out of the garage. Butterflies skittered around inside her stomach. This was really happening. She was breaking the law. She just knew it. Too late now. Sometimes, you just had to do what you had to do.

The three-mile drive to the storage center on Route 1 took all of fifteen minutes. Angie pulled in first. She hopped out of the car and went into a dusty, cluttered office, where a man sat reading a newspaper with a magnifying glass. He looked up. That was when Angie saw the milky white eyes and knew the man had cataracts. His voice was sweet and gentle when he asked how he could help her.

“I called a little while ago to reserve a car-storage unit and a personal unit.”

The man laid aside his newspaper and slid a clipboard across the counter. “Just fill it out, and I’ll give you the keys.

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