Corpse Suzette

packing all those books into that box. I
really can’t say.”
    “Okay.” Savannah thought
for a moment. “And one more thing. Did you see anyone else here today, other
than Jeremy and me?”
    Yasmina nodded. “Just one
other person, someone else who came by to say farewell, right before Jeremy
arrived.”
    Savannah had a feeling she
knew the answer even before she asked. “And who was that, Dr. La Rue?”
    “Someone else who, like
Sergio, needs to find and love herself better. Then she could love others
better. It was Devon. My other visitor today was Devon Wright. Now there is a
troubled soul.”
     
    Sitting at a table in Chez
Antoine was one of Savannah’s most enjoyable sensual experiences. The food, the
wine, the crisp, white linens, the classic French decor and the hospitable,
solicitous Antoine, who hovered and pampered his guests, all combined to create
the perfect dining experience.
    But the reason Savannah
loved the place most was because when she was here, she was always the guest of
Ryan Stone and John Gibson. And they were, hands down, the best dates a gal
could have... if a gal was satisfied with having chocolate mousse for dessert,
and not a serving of hunk á la mode.
    And tonight the experience
was even richer, because she could share it all with two young women who were
enjoying every moment.
    Across the table from
Savannah sat Tammy—relaxed and happy for the first time since her cousin had
arrived—chatting away with John, discussing the finer points of breaching
online security systems.
    Next to her sat Abigail...
a transformed Abigail, thanks to the talents and efforts of the Emerge staff.
Savannah had decided, the moment she saw Abigail at the spa, that maybe this
idea of a metamorphosis wasn’t just hype, after all.
    Abigail Simpson had,
indeed, unfurled like a beautiful butterfly.
    Her hair had been cut, and
although it was still well past her shoulders, it fell in soft waves around
her, with feminine layers framing her face. And they had colored it a stunning
shade of golden red that brought out the peach tones of her complexion.
    Before the makeover, her
brows had been bushy and well-knit in the middle. Now they were shaped and
gracefully arched, setting off her big eyes to perfection.
    Her new makeup was a
mixture of golden and bronze tones, expertly applied to look glamorous, yet
natural.
    The blouse they had chosen
for her was an elegant copper silk affair, and her chocolate velvet skirt had a
split that showed off her nicely shaped calves and ankles.
    Even Dirk had commented
upon seeing her earlier, “Gee, Cousin Abby’s got great gams. Who would’ve
thought it?”
    High-heeled sandals of
bronze-metallic leather and a matching handbag completed the ensemble, along
with a necklace, earrings, and bracelet that featured mystic twilight
topazes—the perfect final touch.
    But it wasn’t the hair, the
makeup, the clothes, or the jewelry that had transformed Abigail and made her
shine. It was the unaccustomed attention she had received at the hands of the
staff and now from her friends, the interest in her concerns and preferences,
the pure pampering—being treated like a lady.
    And a lady she had become.
    Tonight her expression was
softer, her gestures more feminine, her whole demeanor more gracious. The
difference was simply amazing.
    And underlying all that
womanly pulchritude was a purely female strength, born of newfound confidence.
The sort of female strength that, in another era, could have led armies of
chariots against enemy troops or ruled the civilized world from a queen’s
throne.
    “Abby,” Savannah said, “I
just can’t stop staring at you, girl. You’re gorgeous!”
    “Isn’t she though?” Ryan
said, giving their guest of honor the benefit of his heart-stopping smile.
“You’re absolutely glowing.”
    Abigail blushed under the
compliments, but for once, no self-deprecating comments came out of her mouth.
    “What do you like best
about your makeover?” Savannah asked her.
    Abby tossed her head and
ran her fingers through her hair. “I like being a redhead. I was when I was a
kid, but then it turned dark.”
    “And now you’re a redhead
again. Come to think of it,” Tammy said, “you’ve always been a redhead...
temper-wise, that is.”
    “Now, now... you aren’t
buying into any old stereotypes, are you?” Savannah cautioned.
    “Stereotypes?” Tammy
cleared her throat and grinned. “Tell me the truth now... have you ever known a
boring,