The following week was a study in misery for Mary-Clair and she was, she knew, performing as an attorney practically by rote.

Late in the afternoon of the eighth day since her heart, she was convinced, had crumbled into dust, Mary-Clair sat at her desk in the office. She leaned her head back against the top of the chair and closed her eyes, willing threatening tears to not spill over...again.

Dear heaven, she thought, she missed Connor so much. Ached for him. Wanted to see his smile, feel his touch, inhale his aroma. How long would this pain last? How long would she weep for all that might have been, but would never be? Oh, Connor.

"Mary-Clair," Esther said, appearing in the doorway, "there's a delivery here that you have to sign for, dear."

Mary-Clair raised her head. "Delivery? I didn't order anything, Esther. There must be some mistake."

Esther shrugged. "Well, you best talk to this man who wants your signature and explain that he has the wrong Mary-Clair Cavelli."

"Who is at this address, according to the delivery slip," Jessica said, peering over Esther's shoulder.

"I don't need this hassle," Mary-Clair said, getting to her feet.

She stomped around her desk, and Esther and Jessica stepped quickly out of her determined-to-end-this-nonsense way. The moment that Mary-Clair entered the small reception area she stopped so fast she teetered. The space was filled with seven boxes of various sizes.

"Mary-Clair Cavelli?" a man in a brown uniform said. "Sign here, please, ma'am."

"What is all this?" she said, sweeping one arm through the air. "I didn't order seven...whatever they are. Take them back with you."

"Sorry, ma'am," the man said, "but I can't do that. If there's a problem, you'll have to fix it with whoever sent the stuff."

Mumbling under her breath, Mary-Clair scribbled her name on the paper attached to a clipboard, then the man beat a hasty retreat. Jessica and Esther came to stand on either side of a frowning Mary-Clair, who leaned over and looked at one of the shipping labels.

"The Everything Store," she read. "I've never even heard of it, let alone ordered seven...somethings from there. Now what do I do?"

"Open them," Esther said. "That will give you more data when you call the store to explain there was an error."

"Good idea," Jessica said. "Go for it, Mary-Clair."

Mary-Clair sighed wearily, then tugged at the edge of the flap on the top of the tallest carton. Ten minutes later she planted her hands on her hips and swept her gaze over the bounty.

"Strange," she said. "Seven step stools painted bright, primary colors, each a different height. Seven."

"Wrong, Mary-Clair," Connor said, as he entered the office. He was carrying a yellow stool with three steps and set it on the floor directly in front of him. "There are eight."

To be continued...



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