Page 105 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

Besides, they hadn’t even talked about the details of her crime. Would he walk out again when he heard everything?

Trust him?

He’d taken her daughter somewhere without her permission.

Trust him.

And her grandmother, the traitor! How would his parents—intellectual snobs, that’s how he’d described them—react to the Glam Gram?

Trust him.

She sighed. What choice did she have?

But once again, he was interfering in her life. She wouldn’t be surprised to find another Elvis staring her in the face when she walked outside, one singing “Suspicious Minds,” or some such thing, to reinforce Merrill’s exhortation to trust him.

There was no Elvis when she left the motel unit and walked over to her apartment, just warm sunshine after yesterday’s rain. The storm had apparently ended early and veered in another direction, as later predicted.

The apartment was a wreck due to the apparently hasty departure. She spent an hour cleaning up and then called Harry to ask if she was supposed to be preparing any kind of food or drinks for the press conference.

“I actually don’t know. The mayor and her gang seem to have taken over with some god-awful pirate theme. You could give her a call but she’d probably talk you into some Anne Bonny outfit.”

Over my dead body!

“Why don’t you just get one of those cheese or fruit tray things at the supermarket with some bottled waters or sodas, just in case?”

I can do better than that. “Sure.”

“Lilah, I’m truly sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you. I have a big mouth.”

“No, Harry, it’s not your fault. It would have come out eventually.”

“Well, I feel real bad about it.”

“Don’t. I’ll see you at two then.” She looked up the number for Stella’s Wine and Cheese Bar that she’d noticed making a delivery to Kevin and Adam and their Victoria’s Secret babes, and called to place an order to be delivered to the Conti mansion by one, at the latest. Luckily, they weren’t busy this early in the day and were more than willing to take the order, and, yes, they could fill in the trays with crackers, fresh fruit, and other finger foods. She didn’t even wince when told the bill came to four hundred and twenty-five dollars. Merrill, or the company, would be paying for it.

What next?

She figured she could stop at the supermarket on the way to pick up some bags of ice and paper products, although she suspected that Doreen would have pirate, or Fourth of July, napkins and such.

Her cell phone rang when she came out of the shower. It was Maggie.

“Mommy. I’m swimming!”

“You are? Where?”

“The big pool at our house.”

“Which house would that be, honey?”

“The . . . what do they call it?” She was speaking to someone else who was in the room with her. Maybe Gram. But, no, it was a man’s voice. “Poppa says it’s the Beach Manse.”

“The beach mansion?”

“Nooooo. The Beach Manse.”

Same thing, sweet pea. “Who is Poppa?”

“He’s Mister Merrill’s father. We went to see Nana in the hospital. Then Poppa brought us here to the Beach Manse.”