They were her only pair of shoes suitable for farm chores. She finally found them buried at the bottom of her suitcase. While she was lacing them up, her cell vibrated on the floor beside her. “Anne-Marie,” Sadie greeted her publicist. “I hope you have good news.” “Good and not so good. Are you sitting down?” Anne-Marie demanded in her raspy smoker’s voice that made her sound like an evil woman hunting Dalmatian puppies to make a coat. Sadie glanced at the bedside clock. Eleven in the morning. She’d lost track of time when she’d sat down at her computer early that morning to write a few pages. She was already late, and pretty soon Logan would start wondering if she’d flaked on him. “I’m sitting, but I don’t have much time.” “Make time,” Anne-Marie said. “My good news—it is huge.” A thrill ran through her. “Huge as in a movie deal?”
