Priced to Move

“You two are nuts. Keep Mr. Chemistry. I’m outta here. You can teach Max the Magnificent a thing or two about the gem trade. Oh, oh! And how ’bout this? I’m sure Miss Piggy would love to stage a comeback and be his sidekick. I hear she’s between projects these days.”

With no dignity left, I don’t care that every employee stares at me as I stomp out of the studio. I can’t believe I set myself up for this. And to think I gave up that fab career of mine in New York for a pair of lunatic seniors, the chance to humiliate myself before millions, and a know-nothing pretty boy. I thought that was a good idea because . . . ?

“But you were great . . .” Miss Mona’s wail follows me all the way to the door.

We were great, all right. A great, big, fat flop.

I should’ve known better than to let Aunt Weeby and Miss Mona take over my life.

Now what, Lord?

In the parking lot, I realize something’s cutting into my palm. I glance down and groan.

You got it. I walked out with the diamond Max dropped. And while I can return it in the morning, once I’m not so mad, I don’t feel right taking a three-carat treasure home with me.

But would you want to go back to the scene of that crime? I don’t either.

And that’s when my conscience kicks in, right on schedule. I’m convinced that mental tyrant of mine is hitched at the hip to heaven. So I try to reason. Why? I don’t know. I’ve yet to win a single argument. But I give it a go anyway.

“Okay, Lord. I know I have to take it back. But it was such a perfect exit!”

I take three steps toward Aunt Weeby’s old, clunky VW Jetta—she loaned it to me until I find myself a decent set of wheels to buy. Mine bit the dust when I pulled into town.

Where was I? Oh yeah, praying. God?

Since he doesn’t answer me, my discomfort grows.

“Aw, c’mon. You know I’m honest. I’m not going to run away with Miss Mona’s property. I’ll bring it back. Besides, I’m too embarrassed.”

Then it hits me. No matter how much I want to flee, there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s a very good reason the Bible calls anger a no-no. I let mine get the better of me, and I stormed out without my purse. Uh-huh. You know it.

No purse, no keys. No keys, no Jetta getaway.

Bummer.

“Oh, okay. I get the message. I gotta go back in there and eat humble pie. And when I see anyone, today or tomorrow, I’ll have to confess and ask forgiveness. As always, you’re right. Just don’t leave me now, Lord. Help me through it all.”

Not feeling a whole lot better, I retrace my steps, push open one of the massive glass doors, and reenter the building. In the lobby, a tall brunette in a gorgeous black suit stops me.

“Are you Mona Latimer?”

I laugh at the stranger’s question. “You’ve got to be kidding. She’s my great-aunt’s best friend. I’m Andie Adams, one of the hosts here. Who’re you?”

She waves. “No one, really. I mean, I’m supposed to meet Miss Mona for an interview. I’m a couple of hours late because of my flight.”

“Aha! So you’re the one. She’ll be happy to see you.” Especially since it’ll take her mind off the debacle Max and I just staged. “Why don’t you go down that hall on the left, and keep going to the end. Her assistant should be there. She’ll get you to Miss Mona.”

I turn to get back to my business, but then say over my shoulder, “Good luck!”

She doesn’t smile back but only nods.

Back to righting my latest wrong—I told you trouble follows me, right? Oh, well. First I have to deal with the purse and then return the diamond to the vault. While I don’t have the car keys, I do have the vault combination memorized. At least I don’t have to go back to the scene of the debacle just yet. I can take care of the diamond first, and then face the music.

I find my dressing room door about an inch ajar. Strange.

I’m pretty sure I closed it all the way before I headed for makeup and hair. But that’s no big deal, I guess. I don’t have anything anyone would want.

I walk in and my ears are assaulted.

“Squawk! Shriek, shriek!”

My ears ring and my heart does a hundred-yard dash. “What…?”

Then I see it. And what a sight it is. I now know for sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that I’ve walked into one of those parallel universes Trekkies talk about.

Who’s ever heard of a birdcage in a corporate building? Especially a birdcage that comes complete with what looks like a beautiful miniature parrot swinging on a perch.

“Squawk! Shriek, shriek!”

How can something so beautiful make such a nasty noise? And the little loudmouth is gorgeous. Bright orange-red head feathers blend into yellow ones on its neck. Those shade toward red again down the body, but then melt into the yellow on the wings. The most extreme wing feathers are blue-green and match the long tail feathers—I’m talking long as in as long as the body itself. The bird’s chest is that same