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Game
Over
by Fern Michaels
ISBN: 0758212733
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The Sisterhood Believes In Promises Kept With yet another successful assignment behind them, the ladies of the Sisterhood have enjoyed a relaxing break together and celebrated the wedding of Myra and Charles on Big Pine Mountain. But as soon as the newlyweds return from their shortened honeymoon, they are hit with some exciting yet unsettling news…
It seems their dear ally Lizzie Fox, recently ensconced as Chief White House Counsel, is rumored to be near the top of the short list for a soon to be vacated seat on the Supreme Court. While the Sisters are thrilled for Lizzie, they are concerned about her being ripped to shreds in the approval process, partly due to her connections with the Sisterhood. They also fear it will delay or even derail their long-awaited pardon promised to them by President Martine Connor. It will take a masterful plan, and loyal friends aiding them at every turn, for the Sisters to succeed in protecting Lizzie while securing their own freedom at last.
PROLOGUE
The newlyweds looked at each other. Myra was the first to burst out laughing. Charles, looking sheepish, finally grinned and then laughed along with his wife.
“Wearing these silly flowered clothes under all this glorious sunshine, sipping ridiculous drinks with little umbrellas in them, isn’t doing it for me, darling,” Myra said. There was now a smile on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“We have to suck it up, old girl. This is a ten day honeymoon, compliments of our chicks, so we cannot return to the mountain until our time here in the Cayman Islands is up. Having said that, what would you like to do when we finish these drinks that are as silly as the clothes we’re decked out in?”
Myra adjusted her oversize sunglasses. “We’ve already walked five miles on the beach. We had our morning swim. We had breakfast and lunch. We gathered shells. Unless you want to build a sand castle, I suggest we meander back to Mr. Stu Franklin’s island paradise, where we can sit on the lanai and sip a scotch and soda. In four hours it will be time for diner. Oh, goody, I can’t wait!”
“Who knew a honeymoon could be so deadly?”
Charles smiled.
Myra giggled like a schoolgirl as she linked her arm with Charles’s for the trek back through the sand to their honeymoon cottage.
Thirty minutes later Charles made a low, sweeping bow when he said, “Our honeymoon abode awaits us, Mrs. Martin.”
Myra tilted her head to the side and looked at the thatched-roof cottage. It was quaint, the thatching covering a red-tiled roof. A Hansel and Gretel island house. It was more than comfortable, with wonderful cross ventilation, billowing curtains, humming ceiling fans, comfortable furniture, and state-of-the-art appliances in the kitchen. The bathroom was a modern wonder, with colored glass, beautiful tile, and a whirlpool tub, along with a double shower with eighteen showerheads. The only downside was there was no television, radio, or telephone.
The lanai was filled with hibiscus and every other colorful island plant. A parrot came by from time to time and chatted them up with his seven-word vocabulary. As Charles had put it, “If we were twenty years old and on our first honeymoon, I’d vote never to leave this place.” Myra had seconded his assessment.
“What shall we do now, old girl?” Charles asked his wife as he led her around to the lanai.
He fluffed the cushions on the chaise lounge that was big enough for two people.
A sour expression on her face, Myra said, “What we’ve been doing every day since we got here, take a nap. I’m napped out, Charles. I want to go home.”
“Annie said they were going to turn the cable car off so we can’t go back. Dear heart, neither one of us is capable of hiking up that mountain.”
“Speak for yourself, Charles. I don’t care if it takes me three days to climb to the top. I want to go home.”
“Bloody hell, let’s pack, and we’re out of here. I’ll call Snowden to arrange our departure.”
Myra was off the chaise and running into the house before Charles could click on his phone.
“Thank you, God. Thank you, God,” she kept muttering over and over as she threw her suitcase on the bed and, willy-nilly, tossed their clothes in. She rushed to the bathroom and ran her arm across the vanity, and in one fell swoop, the contents went into a small leather satchel. Done!
“We’re good to go, Charles,” Myra said breathlessly. “How soon can we leave?”
“Forty minutes!”
“Details, darling, details.”
“I just called for a taxi to take us to the airport. We will have private transportation to the mainland, and from there, Annie’s Gulfstream will take us home. We will have a two-hour wait once we hit the mainland, but I didn’t think you’d care about that any more than I do. Does this work for you, old girl?”
“It does, Charles. It really does. Oh, I feel almost giddy. Dear, you aren’t . . . you know . . . disappointed that our honeymoon was so . . . boring, are you?”
“Myra, our honeymoon was deadly boring, but thank you for being so kind. By the way, I’m glad you pushed the envelope. Now, we have to come up with some believable story for our early return. A story the girls will believe.”
“They won’t believe anything we tell them. You know that. They’re going to know, Charles. We’ll be honeymoon duds!”
Tongue in cheek, Charles said, “And this bothers you, my dear?”
Myra thought about the question. “Annie will be relentless!”
“Well, we’re going to have a good many hours to come up with a story that will work for Annie. And the others.”
“Can we make it risqué, darling? Annie won’t accept anything less.”
“I’ll put everything I have into it,” Charles drawled.
Myra sighed happily. Her world was looking more wonderful by the minute.
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5. What
sort of cover up do Myra and Charles intend to come up with to hide how boring
their honeymoon was?
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