Book Excerpt
Present day, Sunday, September 8th, 2:11 PM
Le Mille Neuf, 1009 Rue de Bleury, penthouse, Montreal
The young man at the front desk in the luxury apartment building looked up in
surprise at the quartet of women making their way across the lobby, carrying
what looked like a variety of flowers, sweets, and boxes, chatting happily
amongst themselves as every male head in the lobby turned in their direction.
An older man in the uniform of a
professional driver or chauffeur was following them, his arms piled high with
packages, puffing slightly.
The women, who were carrying on an intense
four-way conversation between them, did not notice the attention they were
garnering like magnets. They ranged in height from just over five feet to just
under six, with a variety of body types, hair and skin colors ranging from
alabaster to ebony, and clothing styles, all of which had some sort of bright
artistry to them.
They stopped in front of the desk.
The tallest of the group, a fair-skinned
beauty with gray eyes and shoulder-length brown hair atop a tall, willowy
figure, smiled down at him.
“Penthouse deux, s’il vous plait,” she said
politely in a perfect French accent.
The young man slid his swivel chair quickly
under the desk to shield his lap from view.
“Qui appelle?” he asked in a
French-Canadian accent. “Er—whom shall I say is calling?” He picked up the
phone.
“The—uhm—Fivesome,” Briony Windsor, known
as Sarah to her friends, said.
The young man waited for an answer,
requested permission for entry and, receiving it, directed the four women to
the penthouse elevator, only to discover they had started across the back lobby
while he was hanging up.
They already knew where they were going.
“Has anyone heard from Sloane’s father recently?” Dr.
Corinne Byrnes, a veterinarian and the second-tallest member of the group asked the others as they entered the
elevator and pushed the button for the top floor.
“I spoke to him last night,” said Reverend
Grace Fuller, the Associate Pastor of the Obergrande Community Church back in
New York State. “He says she seems to be doing better, as long as she rests.
Apparently he hasn’t been entirely successful at keeping her in bed.”
“Shocker,” mused Elisa Santiago, esq., a
practicing attorney and civil rights advocate who divided her time between law
on the international stage and a quiet practice back in Obergrande, the pretty
Adirondack hometown of the four young women and the friend they had come to
visit. At five-foot-three, she was petite, like Grace, and extraordinarily well
put-together, every detail of her wardrobe perfect, just as every detail of her
business and personal life seemed to be.
“Well, between us we have plenty of things
to keep her amused in bed,” said Briony. “Although that’s like selling ice to
penguins; Sloane has made of art of being kept amused in bed most of her life.”
“Truth,” mused Corinne as the elevator
doors opened, providing a stunning view of downtown Montreal and its exquisite
spires.
The four women hurried down the sunlit
hallway of windows to the door where the number 2 was elegantly displayed.
Elisa pushed the doorbell.
A tall, strapping, dark-haired man with a
finely-featured, neatly-bearded face opened the door a moment later.
All four women blinked in surprise.
“Dr. Marlowe?” Elisa’s voice broke the
silence.
The man’s dark blue eyes blinked as well.
“Come in, ladies,” he said quickly.
The women looked at each other, then
followed him into the penthouse.
“What’s he doing here?” Grace whispered to
Briony. “Sloane told me they couldn’t stand each other.” Briony shrugged.
“Perhaps they’re working on the
Quadricentennial?” Elisa suggested as they passed through the elegant central
foyer into the open living area, a high-ceilinged room ringed with
floor-to-ceiling windows.
She turned to Corinne, the only one not to
have met Nathan Marlowe. “He’s a world-class history professor here at McGill
and in New York at NYU, a specialist in the Adirondack Park area and
particularly in Obergrande. Sloane’s mother hired him to do the authentication
and other research for the town’s four-hundredth anniversary next May.”
“Well, if her mother likes him, I can see
why Sloane can’t stand him,” said Corinne. “Those two can’t agree on whether
the sun is up or not.”
Dr. Marlowe was standing at the far left
edge of the open sitting area, next to the door that led to Sloane’s bedroom
suite.
The women and their driver, still lugging
their packages, followed him.
A glorious spicy smell filled the air near
the kitchen.
On their way past a recessed alcove in
which a towering animal cage stood, Corinne paused and clicked softly at the
sweet, melon-sized animal inside it.
“Hiya, Pfeffernusse,” she said. “You’re
lookin’ good, gurrl.”
Ed Hillenbrandt, the driver, waited until
she was following the other girls again, then paused in front of the cage
himself.
“I still say you would make a nice hat,” he
whispered.
Pfeffernusse just stared at him with her
big black chinchilla eyes. Then she flicked her large ears and spun around, her
white belly disappearing from view as she turned her gray-blue back to him.
“You’re not by any means the first female
to give me the cold shoulder, ma’am,” Ed said as he went to join the women.
They had assembled at the door of Sloane’s
bedroom when Dr. Marlowe held up his hand.
“She should be sleeping,” he cautioned. “If
she is, why don’t you all make yourselves comfortable in the room until she
wakes up? She needs her rest, but I have to wake her up gently every few hours.
She has until two-thirty or so to sleep, so she’s due to wake up shortly.”
Briony nodded, as did the other girls, and
shifted her packages to her other side.
“I’ll wait out here,” said Ed, still
puffing slightly. “I can see her after you’ve all had some time with her.”
Dr. Marlowe opened the door.
Sloane was sitting up in bed, awake, a
dozen or more folders spread across her bed.
Marlowe rolled his eyes. “You’re not
supposed to be working, Sloane. Where did you get those?”
“I’m not telling,” Sloane said, beaming as
her friends came in the room. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We thought we might check on you since you
just got out of the hospital, two days of which were in
the ICU,” Corinne said pointedly. She strode to the bed and bent to her friend,
hugging her gently, then stood up and filled her arms with an enormous,
tissue-wrapped bouquet.
Sloane pulled back the papers, revealing
half a dozen long, thick stems atop which were pointy, elegant blossoms with a
fan of red-gold and violet-blue petals, and a larger green-and-rose-colored
base.
“Birds of Paradise,” she murmured. “You
remembered. Oh, Corinne, thank you.”
“Of course I remembered, after the lecture
you gave me during the setup for my brother’s wedding a few years ago,” Corinne
said. She sat down on the far end of Sloane’s enormous bed as Grace made her
way toward the pillow end. “You said that Birds of Paradise were unique and
classy and showed that someone cared enough to have them brought in, unlike
roses and carnations and mums, which you can ‘get on every street corner,’ as I
recall. As I watched you checking every table arrangement in the reception
hall, I noticed how much they look like you, especially the red-gold colors. I
also brought six singleton vases, since you told me they should always have
their own ‘home.’ ”
Sloane’s eyes filled with tears as Grace
bent over to hug her. When the pastor stood up, she opened the bakery box she
was carrying.
“These are from MaryBeth Finley,” she said.
“She sends her love—she still hasn’t gotten over watching you collapse at
Charlie’s when she was waiting on you. She’s still worried it was some kind of
food poisoning.”
“I’ve never heard of food—even bad
food—causing a brain bleed before,” Sloane said, peering into the box, which
was from Pancake Heaven, the other restaurant/bakery where MaryBeth worked.
“Oooooo. What are these?”
“Vanilla-strawberry,” Grace said, tipping the
box so that Sloane could better see the four puffy, exquisite cupcakes.
“MaryBeth said to tell you that they’re vegan.”
Sloane dipped a finger into one and scooped
up a swath of fluffy frosting. “I’m not a vegan,” she said as she stuck the tip
of her finger into her mouth. “Mmmmm, these are insane.”
“Oh, I told her,” Grace said,
straight-faced. “I assured her you have eaten way more
meat than the rest of us put together.”
A shocked silence fell in the
beautifully-decorated bedroom.
A deep throat rumble occurred in the
doorway, from which Dr. Marlowe rapidly disappeared.
About the Book
Title: Thursday’s Child: Far to Go
Author: Polly Becks
Genre: Romantic Suspense
International attorney and human rights
advocate Elisa Santiago believes she has life under control—an
impressive career, a solid group of friends in Obergrande, and a
handsome law partner for hot “car action” when she needs release. Little
does she know that her entire world is about to burn down when she
discovers that nothing she believes she knows about herself and her past
is true. Can the gorgeous former CIA operative, acting as her guide and
guard as she returns to Colombia, the land of her birth, looking for
answers, set her world on fire in a good way?
THURSDAY’S CHILD: Far to Go is the fifth book in the eight-book series
The Extraordinary Days by breakthrough novelist Polly Becks. The first book,
No Ordinary Day,
tells the tale of an epic tragedy that changes life forever in a small
town in the wild, mystic Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York, and
the mystery surrounding that tragedy.
Purchases of this book provide a direct cash donation to Children International.
Author Bio
Best-selling
author Polly Becks has been making her living writing for more than
twenty years, as well as working as an editor, curriculum developer, and
teaching secondary-school Spanish. She has more than 350 books to her
credit, mostly educational materials, as well as professionally
published fiction in both the adult and YA market in a variety of
genres, plus more than 30 Children’s books. She is excited about
exploring the digital literature frontier and is honored to be the
launch series for GMLTJoseph, LLC.
Links
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