Page 34 of The Silent Hour

When the final note disappeared, I let the silence settle around me, my fingertips still tingling with phantom vibrations. My gaze drifted toward the easels. My large one and the two smaller ones beside it, each smeared with the bold, messy colors of my girls' latest masterpieces.

Half-finished suns with lopsided rays. Oceans dotted with what might have been dolphins. Or mermaids. With those two, there was no telling. The shrill buzz of my phone shattered the moment.

I lowered the violin carefully onto its stand before pulling out my cell. "Hello?"

"I'm about to be at your front gates," Toya announced without preamble.

"Um. Okay?" I replied slowly, immediately suspicious.

"And get dressed."

I looked down at myself. "I am dressed. What are we doing?"

"We," she stretched the word for effect, "are going to surprise our wonderful husbands at work."

I went quiet."...So, do I need tennis shoes or heels?"

She laughed like I wasn't being completely serious. "Heels are good. Open up."

I buzzed the gates open through the app on my phone and made my way downstairs. By the time I swung open the double doors, Toya was already halfway up the stone walkway, sunglasses on, flawless brown skin on display in a gorgeous red wrap dress. Her long, dark hair was pressed so straight it caught the Miami sunlight like obsidian.

She lowered her sunglasses as she approached. "You look good."

"I know. So will my husband." I stepped aside to let her sweep into the house, then closed the doors behind her. "So why do I need to change?"

"Because we're aiming for better than good, Juju." She turned toward the stairs. "Now let's go. I need to see your closet."

I sighed and followed her upstairs. After our conversation yesterday, I had a pretty good idea what this was really about.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

JULIA

TOYA SWUNG HER RANGE Rover into a reserved spot that absolutely did not belong to her, killed the engine with a press of her manicured finger, and slid right out.

I climbed out after her, my four-inch Louboutin’s clicking against the concrete, each sharp echo bouncing off the low ceiling as we crossed the garage. Gleaming luxury cars sat shoulder-to-shoulder, broken up by the occasional sensible Prius or Honda.

"So," I prodded, needlessly smoothing my dress as we headed toward the brushed-steel elevator doors, "do you really think I buy that this is all because you're nosy?"

Her amused smirk was the same one I'd known since pre-K. "You described this woman to me yesterday with that little crease between your eyebrows. You're not worried?"

"No. Why are you?"

This wasn't like Toya at all. Something about her determination felt unfamiliar. Almost alarming. She exhaled and tossed her jangling keychain into her purse.

"I was going to let it go, but Knox and I had a little... debate last night. Semi-argument, really. About her."

"T, if you two are at that stage, this is about more than one look."

She didn't answer immediately, measuring her words as her red bottoms carried her forward with the precise rhythm of a ticking bomb.

"It's a lot of things, Julia. That's why we're here. Carmen wanted to come, but she had a waterfront showing, and Mehgan is halfway to getting everything waxed from her eyebrows to her ankles."

I laughed, the sound echoing off the concrete pillars. Only Toya could orchestrate a reconnaissance mission with the casual flair of planning Sunday mimosas. She punched in the code for the lift, and we stepped inside. The ride up was quiet aside from some funky elevator music that sounded suspiciously like the instrumental version of an eighties song.

We both checked our reflections in the mirrored walls before the doors opened onto the glass-walled bridge. We strode forward, Toya looking every inch the goddess she was. Tall, glamorous, untouchable. I stayed at her side, channeling my inner lady because I still wasn't entirely sure what she intended to accomplish by coming here.

Calm and cordial.