Ciji Ware (77 page)

For a split second, Daphne nearly fell on her knees and begged him to reconsider. A boss who wished her well could easily have interpreted the family emergency clause in her favor. But by now she should know that Rafe Oberlin cared about the advancement of Rafe Oberlin, period. She regarded the handsome young conductor for a long moment as silence filled the room.

I
will not cry
, she scolded herself.

She breathed deeply and nodded acquiescence. Then she summoned her sweetest magnolia smile and bid farewell in a deliberately exaggerated drawl. “You take good care, now, Rafe. And, all the best on Saturday, y’hear? Ah mean it sincerely…”

***

Hundreds of travelers, anxious to begin their revels on Bourbon Street, surged toward the Delta Airlines baggage carousels. Daphne, however, hardly noticed them. She pointed to her claim check and then gazed, incensed, at the lost-and-found clerk standing behind the Formica counter.

“I watched them load the harp on board the plane in New York
myself
,’’ she said with growing desperation. “It’s six feet tall and weighs at least a hundred and fifty pounds. Not an easy item to misplace.”

“Perhaps it’s comin’ on another flight, miss,” the woman offered hopefully.

“Oh, please,” Daphne said, her exhaustion and stress level zooming into the stratosphere. “It’s got to be here somewhere!”

First I lose my job. Now I lose my harp. What else can happen?

“I’ll contact New York and call you when we locate it,” the clerk said, with a shrug. “That’s all I can do.”

“You need to know that this little problem will cost forty thousand dollars to solve, so I suggest you—”

“Daphne!” King hissed. “Look over there. Quick!”

Startled, Daphne turned to stare in the direction her brother indicated. A slender, sandy-haired man standing twenty-five feet away was in the act of handing a fistful of bills to a grinning skycap.

“Jack?”
Daphne whispered, dumbfounded to see the very person she never wanted to lay eyes on again.

Jack Ebert. Her almost husband.