Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [13]
Kate opened the door, pushed her bag over the doorsill, and walked into the living room. She loved her condo, with the glorious view. She didn’t have much furniture, but what she did have was bright and cheerful, each piece bought only after much agonizing. And it was all paid for. She never bought anything unless she could pay cash for it because she hated getting bills in the mail and tried not to live above the income her job at the DEA provided.
Kate looked around. Home sweet home. There was no sofa, but she did have a love seat and two deep comfortable chairs.
The love seat was a gorgeous pumpkin color and covered in a nubby hopsacking material. The two chairs were lemon-lime, in the same fabric. A beautiful, lush ficus tree reached almost to the ceiling. She should ask Miss Dorothy if she should consider cutting it back. Thank God she hadn’t been gone long enough to really miss the place.
Kate’s shoes flew here and there as she shrugged out of her jacket, which also went flying to land half in the ficus and half on the floor. She continued to peel off her clothes as she headed for the bathroom.
When she was pink and puckered from the steamy shower and smelling like fresh strawberries, Kate stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in her favorite robe, which felt like an old friend. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror—brownish blond shoulder-length hair and clear blue eyes—she decided she wasn’t a complete dud in the looks department if you didn’t look too closely. She padded barefoot out to the kitchen, where she looked at the clock. She decided to break her own rule of never drinking until the sun was over the yardarm. It was five o’clock somewhere in the world. She poured a generous amount of white wine into one of her two fancy wineglasses and carried it out to the balcony. She loved sitting out there at that time of the day even though the opportunities to do so were few and far between. Since the sun was on the other side of the building, it was more comfortable than it was in the mornings. It was hot, but that was okay; the heat was dry, unlike Miami, where the humidity was almost a hundred percent.
Even though she’d closed the sliding glass doors, Kate could hear her landline ringing. Like she was really going to get up and go inside and answer it. Now that she’d resigned, she could do whatever she damn well pleased, and it pleased her not to answer her phone. She thought then about the messages on her cell phone. Those were for another day.
Kate leaned back and closed her eyes. She needed to think about her finances and how quickly she would have to seek employment. Her condo and car were paid for, thanks to a generous inheritance from her maternal grandparents. As she was the only grandchild, her grandfather had seen to her future. She had a healthy portfolio that could sustain her, according to Mitch, her broker, for ten years. She had an equally healthy 401(k) plan. She had close to thirty-six thousand dollars in her CMA account she could draw on for everyday living expenses until she decided what she was going to do. On top of that, she had a whole dresser drawer full of United States savings bonds that her father had left her, bonds she’d never cashed and were still drawing interest. Emergency money. She hadn’t touched the money she’d gotten from her parents’ life insurance policies because she couldn’t bear to spend it. Despite her low government pay, she had four thousand eight hundred dollars in her personal checking account. Her life insurance, car insurance, and condo insurance, along with maintenance fees, were all paid up for the year. Ooops, she’d forgotten about the taxes on