My Sister's Shoes (Little Black Box, Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

clothing screamed money. Allie made a face behind her back and Adrienne snorted. “It’s not nice to make faces, Allie.” And she swiftly turned around to face her. “I can feel you snarling.”
    Allie shrugged her shoulders. “And it’s not nice to punk people, either. How much did you pay that muscle head to spook me last night?”
    “What are you babbling about now?”
    Allie got up from the table. “Oh, I think you know, and you’re embarrassed because your little plan backfired. Was Mr. Martin in on the whole little black box thing too?”
    Adrienne eyes flashed in such a way Allie knew she had been wrong. Damn it! Now she knew she was really left with a big fat nothing. Allie quickly tried to make a save. “Not that I opened it. Not yet anyway. I will when I am ready, and I’m sure it will be great.”
    Adrienne narrowed her eyes at her. “Hmm. You’re acting stranger than usual, Allie.” She took a swig of her coffee. “You know, Allie, you should really start exercising. You’re getting a little wide around the middle. Not that the folks at Longwood care.” And Adrienne sashayed out of the kitchen.
    * * * *
    The Upper East Side was a far cry from her West Side digs. Not that she’d ever live in either area after she became a nurse. Manhattan would be a memory and a train ride away. Allie searched her cell phone for the original text from Longwood and came up empty. What the hell? Deciding to call, she hit the contact options on her iPhone when the text reappeared. That was strange. She noted the apartment number and put her cell phone away.
    At the desk she informed a very stately-looking gentleman named Henry that the resident in apartment Twelve C was expecting her. “Just one moment, madam.”
    “Sure.” Allie looked around. The pre-war building was beautifully preserved, and apartment Twelve C must have a great view of the Hudson River. As she stared at the overly-waxed marble floor, she thought about Angelo. What was that all about? If it wasn’t Adrienne, then who? And why? Her thoughts were interrupted by the doorman. “You may go up, madam.”
    “Thanks, Henry.” He scowled at her. Tightwad.
    Allie was directed toward the elevator. Once inside, she applied fresh lipstick and shook out her long, wavy hair. She hadn’t overdressed, but wanted to look neat. Under her mid-length commuter trench coat, she wore dark denim jeans with boots and a white blouse. She added a pair of gold, dangling earrings and her usual makeup, which consisted of very little.
    The elevator doors opened to a small hallway with old wooden floors. There were old-fashioned numbers on each unit. After Allie knocked on apartment door Twelve C, she smoothed her hands over her coat and straightened her posture. When the door opened to reveal Mr. Zach Brady, she froze. His smile said he was expecting her, and he greeted her warmly. “Hi, Allison. I’m so glad you’re here. Come in. Please.”
    Allie stood inside the small alcove leading into Zach’s apartment. She struggled to understand what was going on. “Can I take your coat?” he said.
    “Sure—yes, of course.” Allie watched him size her up as she untied the belt on her coat. Slipping it off her shoulders, she handed it to him.
    “Oh—I should have told the service I don’t require you to wear a uniform. Follow me.”
    “Uniform?” Allie took a step and froze as she looked at her reflection in the hallway mirror. To her horror, she wore a white smock-like jacket with long, pink sleeves and dark pants. Her shoes looked like black clogs any old man would proudly wear to a bocce game. Her hair was pulled back and pinned at the side with a bobby pin. A bobby pin? She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming, and she needed to wake up. Allie looked down at her arm and pinched herself. When that didn’t work, she slapped her cheek. Hard.
    “Are you okay? Do you want to call the police on yourself? Because, if I’m not mistaken—that’s assault.” He