Page 1 of Strictly Yours

CHAPTER ONE

Amber

“Amber!Amber!!”

I turn around and look through the crowd of travelers, some looking excited, most looking cranky, until I see my sister’s frantic arm waving back and forth.

I grin as my older sister Willow pushes her way through the crowd, pulling her giant suitcase behind her.

“Oh my god!” I shout as I drop my bag and leap into her arms. I squeeze her body until she whimpers. I miss my sister so much. I can’t believe it’s been since Christmas, or about eight months, since I last saw her.

Her lawyer husband Greg comes up behind her with a forced smile on his face. He’s a little stuffy for my taste but he seems to be good for my sister.

“Hey, Greg,” I say as I release my sister and hug his stiff body. “It’s good to see you.”

“You shouldn’t leave your suitcase unattended in an international airport,” he says, frowning at my suitcase lying on the floor behind me.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Willow says as she quickly picks it up and pulls it over. “I was hoping we’d get to see you before we left.”

“Yeah, what a nice surprise,” Greg says with a swallow. “We should probably go through security though. You know how long the lineups can be.”

Willow and I both ignore him and turn to each other with big smiles on our faces. My sister is twenty-six, but you’d swear she was at least a decade older with all that she’s accomplished. My girl moved to New York City with zero contacts and in five years has become a COO of a huge tech company that I’m still not sure what they do even though she’s explained it to me numerous times, gotten married to a rich, blue-blooded lawyer from one of those families so wealthy they have an assortment of yachts and sailboats, and she bought a penthouse suite in a luxurious Upper West Side building.

It hasn’t come without a cost though. It’s mid-August and she’s as pale as if it’s the middle of January. I’ve heard horror stories about her boss. Apparently, he does nothing but work and expects all of his poor, suffering employees to adopt the same lifestyle. The prick.

“I’m so sorry about your job,” she says as she grabs my arms and tilts her head sympathetically. “I know how much you loved it.”

“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. Being a travel agent was a pretty sweet gig, but we’re like dinosaurs, and the Internet, with all of its fancy discount booking sites, is the asteroid. I got laid off last month. It still hurts.

“It’s an opportunity to try something else,” I say, forcing out a smile. “The next big thing for me is around the corner. I can feel it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Willow says. “Maybe you can treat the next two weeks like a jolt to your system. Have some new experiences. Learn about yourself.”

“Babe, we really got to get going,” Greg says, glancing at the security area.

Willow holds her breath and her tongue as she turns and gives him a warning look. Hopefully, this vacation will do them some good. I’m the one who booked it for them. Two weeks in Kauai, Hawaii. A beautiful villa on a secluded beach. If that can’t unstress a couple then nothing can.

“I wasn’t sure if we were going to cross paths,” Willow says, turning back to me. “So, I don’t have my extra key on me. I left it at my office, right on my desk. You can pick it up, the building is only two blocks from my condo. You have the address, right?”

“Yeah,” I say as I open my purse and start rummaging through it, looking for that little paper. God, why do I keep so much stuff in here? I’m pulling out old receipts, gift cards with less than three dollars on them, a phone number (I don’t recall whose), and dumping it all onto the ledge on the column as I frantically look for the address.

“You sure you can handle this?” Greg says, looking at me wearily. He thinks I’m a total airhead who can’t do anything right. Just because I accidentally put salt instead of sugar in my Christmas cookiesonetime… I did think it was strange that the recipe asked for a whole cup of it, but the two glasses of wine I had made me go with the flow.

“I think she can handle watching a cat,” Willow snaps.

“Munchies requires a lot of medication,” he says defensively, “and Amber can be…”

We both put our hands on our hips and raise our eyebrows, giving him a practically identical patented Fletcher stare-down.

“…flighty,” he says, swallowing hard. “In a good way.”

Willow stares him down hard. “Why don’t you go check the status of our flight?”

“It’s on time and that time is ticking away,” he says, checking his watch instead.

“I found it!” I say as I triumphantly pull out the addresses scribbled on the back of an overdue phone bill. “Homeandoffice.”

I zip up my purse and toss it over my shoulder. “See? I can do some things right.”

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