He was already walking over to the counter. "No problem. You want these printed in color or black and white?"
"Color." Zoe didn't really have the money, but she was afraid people wouldn't recognize Sam if she didn't provide as close a likeness as possible.
He whistled. "Color's a buck a copy."
"I don't care," she said. "I'd give anything to have her back."
"She's a lucky girl..."
Zoe hesitated. Lucky?
"...to have a mother who loves her so much."
"Thanks," she whispered.
She was tempted to tell him how Sam had been conceived. She needed to talk--about how she'd felt when it happened, about her struggle trying to decide whether to keep the baby, about the day she'd gone to the abortion clinic and then bailed out because she was too frightened to go through with it. Her father had felt too guilty about what she'd already endured to force her. And that had led to a child, her child, the one thing she treasured most in life. It was hard to believe how close she'd come to ending the pregnancy. Maybe that was why she wanted to talk. It felt as if she could trust this young lawyer with anything. He'd have no reason to tell anyone.
But the clerk interrupted before she could make up her mind.
"What can I do for you?" she asked Colin.
"Give me a thousand copies of this." He pushed the flyer toward her.
The clerk jotted down the information as Zoe joined them at the cash register.
"How would you like to pay for your order?"
Zoe reached into her purse. "By credit card." She had no idea how she'd settle the bill when it came due. Anton wouldn't be happy that she'd gone the more expensive route and would probably refuse to help her. His first wife had robbed him blind when she'd left him for another man and that had made him cautious about spending money. He'd say she was being foolish, as he'd said in the past when she'd splurged on items for Sam she couldn't really afford.
But she'd worry about that in thirty days.
If Sam was back, she'd figure out some way to meet the obligation. If Sam wasn't back...salvaging her credit would be the least of her problems.
Chapter 10
Anton was standing on the porch, holding a cup of coffee when Colin and Zoe returned. Zoe waved as Colin parked, but her fiance didn't respond.
"Uh-oh." Colin clicked his tongue. "I think you're in trouble."
"He's definitely not happy," she agreed. But he looked well-rested, which rankled almost as much as the anger apparent in his expression.
Colin touched her on the leg. "I'll explain where we were, if you want."
"No. You've done enough for me. Thank you."
The weight of his hand remained. "Will you stop thanking me? You act like you've never had a friend."
With the transient nature of the people she'd known in her childhood, and the number of times she'd moved as an adult, her life had been too unstable for long-lasting relationships. It hurt too much to separate after bonding with someone, so she didn't let herself care too deeply. Not for anyone but Sam. Sam had been her best friend as well as her daughter.
But thinking of their closeness made her chest ache just when she'd finally been feeling a bit better.
As she got out of Colin's BMW, she collected a box of flyers from the backseat; Colin insisted on carrying the other. He walked with her and gave his to Anton when they'd climbed onto the porch.
Anton's mouth formed a hard, straight line. "What's this?"
"Flyers." He rubbed his hands as if he'd been hard at work, which was true. "We bumped into each other in the middle of the night, both suffering from insomnia, so we figured we'd make use of the time."
Anton's eyes cut to the cigarette butt on the walkway, then lifted to Zoe. "You couldn't have told me? You didn't assume I'd wonder where you'd gone, especially with your car still in the driveway?"
The realization that he'd been genuinely worried made her resentment dissipate. Was she merely searching for a target, taking her fear and stress out on Anton? It was possible. "I'm sorry," she said. "I was so caught up...I--
I didn't even consider what you'd think if you woke to find me gone."
His forehead rumpled as if he was struggling to suppress some emotion. He reached out to her, then hugged her as best he could while they were each holding a box of flyers. "Don't do that again."
"I won't," she murmured.
Colin cleared his throat, probably to remind them that he was still around. "I should get going. I have a lot to do today." He started to move away but stopped before clearing the grass. "Hey, I almost forgot my part of the flyers. I'll take surface streets to work and drop one off at every store between here and downtown."
"Would you?" Encouraged that they were already disseminating information, Zoe smiled. She felt bad about frightening Anton, but Colin had really helped.
"Of course. Give me...half," he said.
"That many?"
"I'll leave some with Tiff, have her hit the stores I can't."
Zoe handed over her box. "You've been great, Colin."
"Don't mention it." He winked. "I'll report in later."
Standing next to Anton, Zoe watched him walk to his house. When he was gone, Anton bent to pick up the cigarette butt. "He smokes?"
She knew how Anton felt about that, and chafed at the memory of sharing Colin's cigarette. "Apparently only when he can't sleep."
He went over to the side yard to toss the butt in the garbage.
"Are you ready to start passing out flyers?" she asked when he returned.
"I am."
"Good. Let's go."
She hiked up her purse, but he shook his head. "I'll do it. You've got to get some sleep. You've been up for almost forty-eight hours, and you've hardly eaten a bite. I don't know how you're still on your feet."
The pain was easier to tolerate if she was actively working. It was the doubt that set in when she stopped that hurt the most. And the way Anton kept trying to hold her back, to get her to slow down, made it worse. "I can't, Anton. I don't care about pacing myself. I don't care about being exhausted.
I'm frantic, and I have to do whatever I can. I don't care what it costs me.
Can't you understand that?" She gripped his arm. "I have to find Sam. She's the only thing that matters to me!"
The color drained from his cheeks, which had been red a moment before. "I don't matter?"
She forced herself to ease the tightness of her grip. Had that really come out of her mouth? "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," she said. But deep down, she was afraid she did.