So excited to have another day in D.C., my internal clock woke me before the wake-up call—even after being with Rick until two-thirty. It was my last real day in D.C. and I wanted to enjoy every minute of it. I still didn’t believe that whole shootout at the pizzeria last night didn’t have to do with the terrorists like that woman wanted us to believe, and hoped they had been taken care of last night. Alex had told me he really liked me under the table at the Pizzeria, and I’d worked things out with Rick. Life was good.
After getting ready, I still had some time to kill, so I stepped out onto the balcony. The sky looked overcast, and it felt muggy. I watched as cars drove past and I saw a drycleaners van drive by. Marybeth’s outfit. I hadn’t gotten it back from the drycleaners yet. I flew through our room and down to the lobby. The receptionist looked at me with pursed lips.
“I sent some things to be dry cleaned two days ago. I still haven’t gotten them back, and I leave tomorrow, early. Could you check for them?” I asked.
“Dry cleaning is delivered to your room with maid service,” he said curtly. “Are you sure it isn’t hanging in your closet?”
“Yes. It isn’t there. I was told it would be done yesterday. Please check.”
“If it isn’t in your room…”
“Just check.” I interrupted, trying not to get mad.
“One moment,” he said, turning to go into the back room.
What if they lost it? There would be no way to replace it. I hadn’t thought of that.
He returned several minutes later, dry cleaning in hand.
Relief washed over me.
“I’m sorry,” he said, handing me the hangers. “For some reason, yours was left in the back room.”
“Thanks!” I yelled, running to the elevator. I took the plastic off the clothes and removed the hangers. The clothes looked as good as new, and I had to smile. As I chucked the hangers and plastic into a hall garbage, my receipt fluttered to the ground. I grabbed it and stuffed it into my jeans pocket.
What luck! Marybeth was in the shower when I walked into our room. I hung her clothes back on their original hangers and took a deep breath. “Better than when I borrowed them,” I whispered to myself and sat on my bed to wait for seven o’clock, guilt burning in my chest.
CHAPTER TWENTY