He appeared at me side immediately and grabbed my arms. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

  I was shaking uncontrollably, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “I went to take down your garbage . . . I . . . there’s a . . . and some blood . . . I . . .”

  “What? Slow down, Frannie. Calm down.” He hugged me to him, the warmth emanating from his body soothing me as I took a deep breath.

  “I found a bloody shoe in your garbage can,” I mumbled into his chest.

  He pulled away from me and looked me in the face. “You found some blood in my garbage can? It’s probably from the ground beef I tossed yesterday.”

  “A shoe. A bloody shoe.”

  I must not have been making any sense, because he blinked at me, then shook his head.

  “Why don’t you have a seat, Frannie? Did you fall on the stairs and lose your shoe?”

  “No, not my shoe!” I sat on his couch and stuck out my Jimmy Choo clad feet. “Someone else’s shoe. A man’s shoe.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe someone threw away an old shoe.”

  “It looked new.”

  He sighed. “Babe—”

  “And there was blood on it!”

  He waved a hand at me, dismissing my fear. “I told you I cleaned out the fridge earlier. I threw out some ground beef. Probably the blood from that dripped on it or something. Look, I have to get this project done. Why don’t you just chill a bit? Have some more wine and relax.”

  “No! You have to go see. What if there’s somebody skulking around downstairs!”

  He made a face.

  I felt like an idiot. He had work to do, and here I was probably overreacting. Suddenly, my fear was gone, but I still needed to be sure of what I’d seen.

  He sat down on the couch and pulled me to him, embracing me. “Babe, you know this promotion is important, right? It’s the way we get out of this town and to the Big Apple.”

  “I know.”

  He pressed his lips to mine. “You do still want to go with me, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you feel better if I go and check out the bloody shoe?”

  I laughed. “You’re making it sound like a stupid joke. Remember the one about the bloody finger?”

  He frowned.

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s the one where the girl is alone and she gets the call.” I made my voice low. “This is the bloody finger . . . and I’m one block away.”

  He shook his head. “It sounds like a pretty bad joke.”

  “It is,” I agreed. “The girl gets the call three times and gets more scared each time, and then a guy with a small cut on his finger arrives on her doorstep and asks for a Band-Aid.”

  Jason buried his head in his hands. “Worst. Joke. Ever.”

  “I know. It’s Ginger’s favorite, and she’s probably told it a million times since we were kids. Every Halloween especially.”

  Jason rose from the couch. “Okay, I’ll check it out.” He made his voice low and dramatic. “The bloody shoe.”

  He left the apartment, and I paced.

  Why was there a bloody shoe in his garbage can? I walked to the front window of the apartment and looked out into the dark street. No one seemed to be around. Certainly no one stalking the building or anything else.

  I grabbed my phone and sent a group message to Ginger and Wendy:

  NO PROPOSAL YET BUT FOUND SOMETHING STRANGE IN THE TRASH.

  Wendy texted back first.

  A RECIEPT FROM A FINE JEWELER?

  Ginger texted.

  A USED NAPKIN FROM THE WINE JUG WITH SOME FLOOZY’S NUMBER?

  Before I could reply, Jason came back into the room. “There’s no shoe in the garbage, Frannie.”

  “What? It’s gone?”

  He shrugged. “I guess so. Now we have the case of the missing shoe.”

  How could it be gone?

  “Are you sure you looked in the garbage can? The black one. It was inside, not on top.”

  “Yeah, I looked inside. You left my garbage bag in the alley, by the way, and Terrance’s cat was already clawing it.”

  Terrance was Jason’s downstairs neighbor.

  “Anyway,” Jason continued. “Since when do you take out my trash?”

  I shrugged, poured the last few drops of Chardonnay into my glass, and shook the bottle, hoping for more. I didn’t want to confess that I’d been fantasizing about domesticity, so instead I said, “I was bored.”

  He crossed his arms. “Sorry I can’t entertain you, babe, but you know—”

  “I know. The promotion.”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to him. “One more week and everything will be different. I promise,” he whispered into my ear.

  I pressed my cheek against his, the stubble of his beard scratching my skin.

  “Why don’t you go meet up with Ginger and Wendy? I won’t be offended,” he said.

  “No! I’m not going to leave you alone on a Saturday night!”

  He laughed. “Babe. I got my work. I feel like I’m the one leaving you alone. I’ll walk you to the Wine Jug.”

  “You don’t have to walk me.”

  “Are you kidding? I gotta make sure you leave.” He chuckled at his joke, but it left me feeling unsettled.

  Preview of Dying for Gold

  Chapter 3

  I screamed as someone grabbed me from behind.

  The light in the Wine Jug was nonexistent. Okay, you could see, but barely. I always did better after my eyes had a chance to adjust, but Ginger and Wendy tackled me before that happened.

  Ginger giggled. “What are you so skittish about?” she shouted over the band, Oro Ignited, which was playing on the small stage in the corner of the bar.

  Wendy dragged me to their table and poured me a glass of a local white Zinfandel. The golden hills of California were fast becoming a mecca for small wineries that couldn’t afford the high real estate prices in Napa and Sonoma counties. It seemed that every day a new tasting room was popping up, and we were the happy beneficiaries.

  The wine was a bit too sweet for my taste, but it was cold, and I wasn’t in a complaining mood.

  “I found a bloody shoe in Jason’s trash.”

  Ginger frowned. “Was it an old shoe or what? What do you mean bloody?”

  “It was a man’s shoe. New shoe. Expensive. It looked like there were drops of blood on it. I told Jason about it, and when he went to check it out, it was gone.”

  Wendy refilled her wine glass. “Who cares about an old shoe? What happened with Jason? Did he pop the question or what?”

  I shook my head, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

  Ginger reached for my hand. “It’s going to happen, honey. Be patient.”

  I nodded, trying to hide the disappointment that was surging in my body. I swallowed hard, and before tears could come, I decided to change the subject back to safe territory. “The whole shoe thing is pretty weird, huh? I can’t believe Jason didn’t find it. I have to go look again myself,” I said over the music. Suddenly, the band took a break and I found myself still yelling, “Will you come with me?”

  My face flushed as all eyes turned toward me. I smiled at the neighboring tables and then sipped my Zinfandel.

  The crowd got noisy again, and Wendy leaned in. “You mean go back to Jason’s and poke around his trash? No way!”

  Ginger flashed me look that I interpreted as she’d go with me later when we dropped off Wendy. I nodded at her, and she winked at me conspiratorially.

  Wendy was too delicate to go digging in someone’s trash. Even if that someone was my intended, or soon-to-be intended.

  “Come on, you’re good at digging,” I teased her.

  “Gold digging maybe.” She smiled and batted her false eyelashes at me.

  “Or digging for gossip,” Ginger added. “She’s great at that.”

  “A girl has got to have special talents in life,” Wendy said.

  I grabbed a couple of peanuts from the bowl in the center of the table and a strange sensation tingled through me.

  What if Jason was in danger?

  Ben, the lead singer of Oro Ignited and friend to everyone in town, sauntered over to us. “Evening, ladies. Evening, Frannie.” He flashed me a strange, shy look that I couldn’t interpret, then turned his attention to Ginger. “I heard your jewelry designs are the hottest fad in town.” He took an empty chair from nearby, spun it around, and seated himself at our table with his arms and chest resting on the back of the chair.

  Ginger grinned as wide as the Cheshire cat. “Who, pray tell, told you that?”

  “My Aunt Jeannie was at the sale today. She brought a flashy pendant, and now my mother is scheming to steal it . . . I mean, borrow it from her.”

  While Ginger made small talk with Ben, Wendy leaned over to me. “So, what’s up? Why do you think Jason didn’t propose tonight?”

  Her question poked at a sensitive part of my heart, and I suddenly felt hollowed out. I would have much preferred to dwell on the mystery of the bloody shoe than the mystery of the missed proposal.

  I’d been so sure. All signs pointed to go, and yet . . .

  I shrugged and felt my eyes start to fill.

  Wendy grabbed my hand. “Oh, honey! Come on.” She pulled me to my feet and led me to the ladies’ room. Under the fluorescent lights, I looked like the wreck of the Hesperus.

  “No wonder he didn’t propose! Look at me!” I yelped.

  Wendy laughed and smoothed down my hair. “You be quiet. You look fine.”

  While Ginger had always been my closest girlfriend and had nursed me through my shares of broken hearts, Wendy was a more recent addition in my life. Being that she was married to my brother and we worked together on a daily basis at The Nugget, I was finally starting to feel like I could confide in her.

  I collapsed onto the chaise in the ladies’ room and sighed. “I’m not giving up. I’m still sure he’s the one, but he’s under a lot of pressure is all. I think next week, after he gets the promotion . . .”

  Wendy ran some tap water and wet a paper towel. She quirked a brow at me as she pressed the towel to the back of my neck. “You can have anyone in town, darling. I don’t want you to settle.”

  I frowned. “I’m not settling! I love Jason.”

  She nodded. “Of course you do. What about Ben? Have you noticed the way he looks at you?”

  I felt a surge of defensiveness. “I love Jason. He’s the one.”

  She dabbed delicately at her lips. “Right. Ben and I were talking earlier. He and I made a deal.”

  “What about?” I studied Wendy’s reflection in the mirror, wondering what was coming next. Ben had been best friends with my first husband, but they’d parted ways more or less about the time of our divorce.

  “He wants me to use my power of influence with Dale Myers to get his band back on the main stage for Living History Day.”

  I snorted. “What power of influence?”

  Wendy laughed. “Well, I am in charge of all the costumes. Don’t you think the threat of having everyone dance around naked is substantial?”

  We giggled. The kind of infectious, delirious laughter bubbling through us after a stressful day was enough for us to slump together and wipe the tears dry.

  Taking advantage of her good mood, I said, “Come with me to have a look in Jason’s garbage can.”

  Wendy scrunched up her nose. “I told you. I’m not digging through someone's garbage.”

  “You don’t have to dig through his garbage. I just want to see if the shoe is there.” She looked unconvinced, but I laced an arm through hers and pulled her out of the ladies’ room. “What are sisters-in-law for anyway?”

  “Not this!” she protested, but she didn’t untangle her arm from mine.

  “I won’t tell,” I urged.

  She snickered. “Your brother would die if he knew I was digging through someone’s trash.”

  “I know, I know. You’re a gold digger, not a trash digger,” I teased.

  She pinched my arm. “Shut it, sister.”

  I laughed, but she only pinched harder until I said, “Ouch! Okay, okay, I take it back, humorless.”

  Back at our table, the entire band had joined Ginger for cocktails. She was flirting outrageously with all of them, sitting on someone’s lap while another guy rubbed her feet. I knew I’d never be able to convince her to leave with us. Instead, I wiggled my fingers at her in farewell. She made a phone receiver out of her hand and gestured that she’d call me later.

  Wendy and I exited the Wine Jug, the cool night air a reprieve from the stifling atmosphere of the bar. We walked down the streets of Golden arm in arm, Wendy chatting about the costumes she was finalizing.

  Even though I tried to focus on her chatter, my mind was on the bloody shoe. When we turned the corner to Jason’s block, a chill crept up my spine. What exactly was I going to do with the shoe if I found it?

  We entered the alley, and a cat hissed at us, then ran off.

  A black cat no less.

  Wendy screeched, “Bad luck!”

  I poked her in the ribs. “Don’t worry about that. It’s the neighbor’s cat.” I said it to calm her down, but the truth was I was superstitious too.

  The alley was curiously clean. There were no drops of blood like before. It was as if someone had scrubbed the concrete clean.

  I flipped open the lid of the black garbage can.

  There was no shoe. There wasn’t anything, not even garbage.

  “How weird! It was here,” I said to Wendy.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “The place is spotless. Garbage pickup isn’t until Monday,” I said.

  “Somebody must have picked it up,” she answered.

  I looked through the other bins quickly. The recycling and compost bins were half-full and seemed the same as before. “It doesn’t make any sense. Does it?”

  “No,” she said. “It doesn't make sense that you would drag me out here to look at an empty trash can.”

  I poked her shoulder for her to be quiet, but she was just getting started.

  “It’s like the time you hauled me over to the Dress Stop to rummage through the sales bins when the sale was already over. Do you remember? Or the time—”

  I pulled out my phone and quickly dialed Jason, glaring at Wendy and shushing her as I left a voicemail for Jason.

  “He didn’t answer,” I said. “I’m going to go up and see if he’s okay.”

  Wendy flashed me a look of concern. “Why wouldn’t he be okay?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure he’s okay. That’s not what I meant. I guess I’m just freaked out.”

  She shrugged. “I know you were hoping for a proposal, sweetheart, but sometimes the men, they keep us waiting. Give him some space. Do you know how long it took your brother to propose?”

  I wasn’t about to get into this conversation with Wendy again, so I said, “Speaking of which, George is probably back from the mine and wondering where you are.”

  “Right. I’d better go.” Wendy wrapped her arms around me and gave me a squeeze. “Walk me to Pine?”

  Pine Street was only a short way down the street, and from there we’d head in different directions. We walked in silence, then said goodbye at the intersection. I knew she’d asked me to walk her this way so that she could ensure I’d head home instead of going back to Jason’s.

  I watched her leave, and when she rounded the next corner, I doubled back toward Jason’s apartment. It wasn’t worth discussing with Wendy. She didn’t understand that I needed to see him again.

  I rounded the corner and sat on the steps of his apartment house and called his cell again.

  No answer.

  He was probably working, and it would be pushy of me to intrude. After all, I’d already called him twice. Still, the matter of the garbage being whisked away was bothering me. What if something had happened to him?

  No, I was being ridiculous.

  I fidgeted on the stairs, not knowing whether to go up or not. I imagined Jason surprising me at the top of the stairs with a ring. Although he had been rather standoffish tonight, could it be he had a black velvet box hidden somewhere in his apartment and was waiting for the right time to ask me?

  He was probably waiting for his promotion. Maybe he’d surprise me with the news of the promotion and then pop the question. Yes, that’s probably how it’d go down. Jason would make reservations at the local chophouse for Friday night. That seemed fancy enough. It wasn’t New York City fine dining, but at least they had white tablecloths.

  Then Living History Day on Saturday; it could be my going away party from Golden. All my friends would be there, and maybe Oro Ignited would play after all. I’d be able to say goodbye to everybody in style with a big fat diamond on my hand.

  Oh, where was Jason?

  I dialed his number again.

  No answer.

  Forget it. I climbed the steps to his apartment and knocked at the door. “Jason?”

  Silence.

  He’s probably wrapped up in his work.

  Still. I had to at least see him one final time before heading home.

  My forgetful computer genius kept an extra key under his mat. It seemed that all he could keep track of were formulas and advanced algorithms. Forget about keys and wallets. I unearthed the key, stuck it in the door, and slowly pushed it open.

  I peeked my head in. “Honey.”

  No answer.

  I tiptoed into the apartment. It was eerily quiet.

  “Jason?”

  Still no response.

  I walked to the living room; his laptop was still aglow.

  Where was he?

  He’d probably gone out to get something to eat. Maybe he was at The Spoon, our local burger joint, enjoying a greasy cheeseburger and all the fries he could stuff into his face.

  I turned on my heel and headed toward his bedroom, still calling out to no avail, “Jason?”

  Before I could push open the door to his bedroom, my phone buzzed. Jason’s face illuminated the screen. “Hello?” I said into the phone.

  “Frannie, where are you?” Jason asked.

  “Where are you?” I asked.