Debra Burroughs - Paradise Valley 02.5 - The Edge of Lies by Debra Burroughs Page A

friends.
    “Oh, m’ gosh, Emily. We were so thrilled to get your call,” Maggie gushed, holding her pasta salad in one hand and throwing her free arm around Emily’s shoulders.
    “Yes, Emily, just thrilled,” Camille echoed, hugging Emily as soon as Maggie stepped aside. “Where can I set this pie down?”
    A wave of surprise washed through Emily. She wasn’t accustomed to all the physical attention from other women. “Uh…why don’t you ladies follow me to the kitchen.”
    They set their dishes on the counter beside Isabel’s plate of cut-up veggies with humus dip.
    “Is your hubby home?” Maggie asked, searching through Emily’s kitchen drawers until she found the one she wanted, grabbing a big serving spoon. “We’d love to meet him.”
    “Sorry, he’s working this evening.”
    “Didn’t you tell us he was a private eye or something?” Camille asked, uncovering her lemon meringue pie.
    “Yes, he worked for a security firm back in DC, but now—”
    Maggie swooned, her hand flying to her chest. “Isn’t it comfortin’ havin’ a big strong man around to protect you?”
    Emily agreed with a nod and a grin. “Yes, comforting is a good word for it.”
    “Why don’t we put some food on our plates and take this conversation to the table, girls?” Isabel suggested. “I’m starved.”
    “All right,” Emily agreed. “Dishes and silverware are on the counter and the lemonade and glasses are on the table.
    The women filled their plates and went to sit down.
    “Sell any houses this week, Emily?” Camille asked, leaning back in her chair, fluffing her spiky red hair with her nicely manicured hands.
    “No, and I still have that big home listed on River Run. I need to move that thing,” Emily said, wagging a carrot stick.
    “Didn’t you do an open house there recently?” Maggie asked, as she poured herself a glass of lemonade.
    “A few weeks ago, but I didn’t have much traffic.” Emily popped the end of the carrot stick in her mouth.
    “I heard a female Realtor in Seattle was attacked at an open house,” Maggie said. “The homeowners found her bound and gagged in a closet when they came home that night.”
    “Oh my!” Camille gasped.
    “Yes, someone had stolen all their jewelry, TVs, and computers,” Maggie went on, before taking a sip of lemonade.
    Isabel set her fork down. “I’m sure Emily is taking precautions. Knowing Evan, he wouldn’t let her just—”
    “You know Evan?” Maggie asked, her brows arching.
    Isabel cleared her throat. “Well, we’ve met, but really it’s just a figure of speech.”
    “Maybe you should ask Evan to help you do your open houses,” Maggie rested a concerned hand on Emily’s arm, “you know, like a bodyguard, so that kind of thing won’t happen to you.”
    Isabel leaned forward in her chair. “We can’t expect to have a man around to protect us, girls. We have to know how to protect ourselves.”
    “You sound like Evan,” Emily said with a little laugh. “I was alone with a man at the open house when he dropped by. After the guy left, Evan gave me an earful for doing that. But what am I supposed to do? It’s my job.” She shook her head. “Then he insisted on taking me out to the firing range the next morning for some target practice.”
    “Target practice? That sounds like a man.” Isabel grimaced, rising from her chair, placing her hands firmly on her hips. “We women need more than that—much more.”
    “What do you mean?” Maggie asked, looking up at Isabel.
    “Well, I was thinking,” Isabel began, her gaze floating from face to face, “that between the four of us, with my background at the FBI and you being a personal trainer, Maggie—how about we start a self-defense class at your workout studio?”
    “Oh, Isabel!” Maggie squealed, shooting to her feet. “I’m over the moon for that idea.”
    Emily stood as well. “That’s funny. I was just thinking about taking a self-defense course. Maybe I can get Evan to