Split Second

She hated the attention and cringed at the possibility of a wolf whistle. Especially in this well-manicured neighborhood where the sanctuary-like silence would make the whistles even more obscene.

This was ridiculous; her silk blouse stuck to her, and her skin crawled. She wasn’t close to being stu

It wasn’t the men’s fault. It wasn’t even their primal instinct to watch that bothered her as much as what seemed to be her involuntary reflex to put on a show for them. The a

But that had been a lifetime ago, certainly too many years ago to trip her up now. After all, she was on her way to becoming a successful businesswoman. So why the hell did the past have such a hold on her? And how could something as harmless as a few indiscreet stares, from men she didn’t know, dismantle her poise and make her question her hard-earned respectability? They made her feel like a fraud. As if, once again, she was masquerading as something she was not. By the time she reached the front entrance, she wanted to turn and run. Instead, she took a deep breath and knocked on the heavy oak door that had been left half-open.

“Come on in,” a woman’s voice called from behind the door.

Tess found Maggie O’Dell at the panel of buttons and blinking lights that made up the house’s newly installed security system.

“Oh, hi, Ms. McGowan. Did we forget to sign some papers?” Maggie only glanced at Tess while she punched the small keyboard and continued to program the device.

“Please, you really must call me Tess.” She hesitated in case Maggie wanted to say the same, but wasn’t surprised when there was no such invitation. Tess knew it wasn’t that Maggie was rude, just that she liked to keep her distance. It was something Tess could relate to, something she understood and respected. “No, there aren’t any more papers. I promise. I knew today was the big move. Just wanted to see how things were going.

“Take a look around, I’m almost finished with this.”

Tess walked from the foyer into the living room. The afternoon sunlight filled the room, but thankfully all the windows were open, a cool south breeze replacing the stale warm air. Tess wiped at her forehead, disappointed to find it damp. She examined her client out of the corner of her eyes.

Now, this was a woman who deserved to be ogled by men. Tess knew Maggie was close to her own age, somewhere in her early thirties. But without the usual power suit, Maggie could easily pass for a college student. Dressed in a ratty University of Virginia T-shirt and threadbare jeans, she failed to hide her shapely athletic figure. She had a natural beauty no one could manufacture. Her skin was smooth and creamy. Her short dark hair shone even though it was mussed and tangled. She possessed rich brown eyes and high cheekbones that Tess would kill for. Yet, Tess knew that the men who had stopped in their tracks just moments before to stare at her would not dare do the same to Maggie O’Dell, though they would definitely want to and it would take tremendous effort not to.

Yes, there was something about this woman. Something Tess had noticed the very first day they had met. She couldn’t quite describe it. It was the way Maggie carried herself, the way she appeared, at times, to be oblivious to the outside world. The way she seemed totally unaware of her effect on people. It was something that invoked—no, demanded, respect. Despite her designer suits and expensive car, Tess would never capture that ability, that power. Yet for all their differences, Tess had felt an immediate kinship with Maggie O’Dell. They both seemed so alone.

“Sorry,” Maggie said, finally joining Tess who had moved to the windows overlooking the backyard. “I’m staying here tonight,” she explained, “and I want to make certain the alarm system is up and ru

“Of course,” Tess nodded and smiled.

Maggie had been more concerned about the security system than the square footage or the seller’s price of any of the houses Tess had shown her. In the begi

Tess glanced around the room. There were plenty of stacked boxes, but very little furniture. Perhaps the movers had only begun to bring in the heavy stuff. She wondered how much Maggie was able to take from the condo she and her husband owned. Tess knew the divorce proceedings were growing messy. Not that her client had shared any of this with her.

Everything Tess knew of Maggie O’Dell, she had learned from a mutual friend, Maggie’s attorney, who had recommended Tess. It was this mutual friend, Teresa Ramairez, who had told Tess about Maggie O’Dell’s bitter lawyer husband, and how Maggie needed to invest in a substantial piece of real estate or risk sharing—maybe even losing—a large trust left in her name. In fact, Maggie O’Dell had confided nothing in Tess, other than those necessities required for the business transaction. She wondered if Maggie’s secrecy and her aloof ma

It didn’t matter—Tess was used to just the opposite. Usually clients confided in her as if she was Dear Abby. Being a real estate agent had proven to be a little like being a bartender. Perhaps part of her colorful past had been good preparation, after all. That Maggie O’Dell didn’t wish to bare her soul was perfectly fine with Tess. She certainly didn’t take it personally. Instead, she could relate. It was exactly the way she handled her own life, her own secrets. Yes, the less people knew, the better.

“So, have you met any of your new neighbors?”

“Not yet.” Maggie answered while she stared out at the huge pine trees lining her property like a fortress. “Only the one you and I met last week.”

“Oh sure, Rachel…um…I can’t remember her last name. I’m usually very good with names.”

“Endicott,” Maggie supplied without effort.

“She seemed very nice,” Tess added, though what little she had gleaned from the brief introduction made her wonder how Special Agent O’Dell would fit into this neighborhood of doctors, congressmen, Ph.D.’s and their stay-at-home society-conscious wives. She remembered seeing Rachel Endicott out for a jog with her pure white Labrador, while dressed in a designer jogging suit, expensive ru

Two men grunted their way through the front entrance with a huge rolltop desk. Immediately, Maggie’s attention transferred to the desk, which looked incredibly heavy and was quite possibly an antique.

“Where ya want this, ma’am?”

“Over against that wall.”

“Sorta centered?”

“Yes, please.”

Maggie O’Dell’s eyes never left them until the piece was carefully set down.