Chapter 70

And that was just the start.

He’d never know what hit him.

And as per Portia Mann’s wishes, no one would ever suspect that I was the one who had set that snowball rolling.

* * * *

Mrs. Mann had been in the hospital for a little more than two weeks, and I’d gone to see her as often as I could.

On this late afternoon in October, she was sitting in a chair by the window and frowning with impatience at the tangled mess in her lap.

I tapped on the doorframe, and she looked up and smiled, all trace of irritation gone.

“Mark. How nice to see you.” She set aside the ball of yarn and the hook she’d been working with and held out her hand.

“How are you feeling today?” I crossed the room and took her hand in mine. She was wearing a silk robe of a rich blue that deepened the color of her eyes. A walker was beside her, but otherwise she looked as elegant as ever.

“Better. I’m being discharged tomorrow.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll bet Quinn is too.”