Read The Colonel's Daughter for Free Online

d’oeuvres.
    Abby remained silent while looking at her mother’s long red fingernails as she stirred her tea. All she could think about was Dallas, and how she wished he had told her more about her father. Their brief lunch together left her wondering why her dad had sent a bodyguard and she regretted telling him that she could take care of herself because now he was gone. She thought maybe if I look out the window one more time and if he’s there, I can go talk to him .
    “I’ve got an idea,” Susan gasped. “Today is the final walk-through for a very important client. Why don’t you come with me?” Susan’s voice rose to a higher octave with each word. “You will absolutely love this villa and we can have lunch afterwards. What do you say honey?”
    Abby peered out the window examining the street below. There was no sign of Dallas’s truck. “Sure mom, I’ll come with you.”
     
    “Where is this villa anyway?” Abigail asked sitting as an inquisitive passenger in her mother’s SUV.
    “It’s on Fisher Island.” Her mother shrieked.
    Abby had accompanied her mother to Fisher Island on a few occasions. Behind the glamour of the island, she discovered the unique beauty of exotic birds like the colorful peacocks that parade around as owners and protectors. She tagged along as Susan toured her buyers around the two deep-water marinas that could be accessed by yacht, seaplane and its round the clock car ferry. Abby would listen to her mother go on and on about the Spanish Architectural style of the villas depicting its signature red barrel tile roofs.
    Susan clasped the steering wheel. She kept her eyes fixed on the road. “You should see this place, Abby. It’s the best one on the island. When you swim in the private pool,” she motioned waving her arm in the air, “All you see for miles and miles is pure ocean.” She gripped the steering wheel again.
    “All you see is ocean?” Abby raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that…don’t tell me you swam in the pool, mom.”
    “Don’t be a smarty pants. I didn’t swim in it. I’m just tellin’ you how I imagine it would be. How else am I supposed to sell something if I don’t imagine what it would feel like?”
    “So who’s this rich client of yours?” Abby tossed a piece of gum into her mouth and checked her black eyeliner in the visor mirror then noticed Dallas’s blue pickup truck following close behind.
    “My client is a very wealthy Arab.” Susan said in a gossip—whisper. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him in person. I’ve only met with his assistant.” Susan’s bracelets jingled every time her arms moved with excitement. “The commission I’m earning will pay for the rest of your tuition and will buy us both a new car.”
    “I don’t need a new car, mom. Mine runs just fine.” She kept an eye on the truck in the mirror.
    “Well then I will buy myself a sports car and you can take this one. It’s a lot newer than the one you have now.”
    “No thanks. What am I going to do with an SUV?” Abby nodded her head in disbelief.
    “Abby, darling, you’re going to have to get rid of that gum. We’re about to get on the ferry. I don’t want you chewing gum in front of my client.”
    “Why are you so excited to meet an Arab? What about dad?”
    “Sweetheart, not everyone is the enemy. You can’t think that way. Your dad would not want us to think that way.”
    Abby folded her arms and gave a thousand yard stare out the passenger window.
     
    * * * * *
     
    “Madame, Mister Shahrivar had to fly back to his country,” explained Faisal the bony Arab brother-in-law.
    “Unless you have power of attorney, he needs to be here to sign these papers,” Susan declared holding a large manila envelope.
    “His son will be here to sign. The villa is for his son, Maurice.” Faisal’s black eyes followed Abby who walked past the living room towards the French doors.
    Her artistic eye paid close attention to the detail of the