T
oots embraced her daughter in a tight hug, then latched on to Chris. “I’m so thrilled you’re here. I’d like for you to meet Abby’s godmothers.”
Both Mavis and Sophie greeted Chris with enthusiasm. “I’ve heard so much about you through the years,” Mavis said.
“Me, too, but I didn’t realize you were
this
good-looking,” Sophie gushed as she evaluated Chris.
Chris laughed, a shivery, husky sound, and thanked the ladies for their compliments, his pearly whites glistening.
Chris waited until the women were seated before taking his seat next to Abby. Finding it hard to focus on the here and now with Abby sitting so close to him that he could smell her perfume, something floral and light, he had to force himself to pay attention to the conversation going on around him. He was still trying to deal with the way his heartbeat had quadrupled when Abby had answered the door earlier. He hoped he wasn’t too obvious when he’d sized her up. He’d gone from sweating palms to a burning neck all in two seconds. Abby could hold her own and, compared to the women he’d been dating lately, she was the prize of prizes. He wondered if she knew the effect she had on him. Probably not, since she treated him like a brother. Her dog, Chester, loved him.
“Ida couldn’t force herself to come out of her room. She has OCD,” Toots explained to Chris when Abby asked if her third godmother would be joining them for dinner. “I’ve arranged for her to see a doctor tomorrow. If that doesn’t work, we’re just going to hog-tie her and make her go cold turkey.”
“Everyone is OCD in Hollywood these days. Makes for good tabloid reading.” Chris winked at Abby to show he was teasing. He wished he’d had a chance to have a moment alone with Toots before he picked up Abby. Before leaving his house, he’d received a rather strange message. He didn’t want to alarm Toots or cause her any unnecessary anxiety, but he had a gut feeling she wasn’t going to be happy when he told her of his suspicions. All along he’d had a bad feeling that the purchase of
The Informer
was not going to be as simple as he’d originally thought. He wished now he had acted on those feelings, but feelings were just that, not facts. As a lawyer, he dealt in facts.
A waiter brought the wine list to their table. Chris quickly scanned the selections before settling on a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the Napa Valley.
When the wine was poured, the toasts taken care of, they ordered dinner. Chris did his best to relax and enjoy Abby’s company and Toots’s zany friends. An impossible feat, with Abby sitting so close. Damn, she smelled good, like the first scent of summer. He felt light-headed at her nearness. He did wonder if any of the women suspected what he was feeling.
Chris was only half aware of the typical subdued dinner chatter, glasses clinking, stifled laughter, and the occasional sound of dropped silverware. He did his best to shift into a neutral zone so he could enjoy himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so amused by three older women. They each took turns sharing stories of their youth. He thought it was funny when he saw Abby kicking her mother under the table when Toots brought up her daughter’s first prom.
“Let’s not go there, Mom,” Abby said sharply, then softened her tone. “Please.”
“Oh, come on, Abs, we’re all adults. What happened, Toots?” Chris cajoled. He’d always thought Abby was so totally in control, and the possibility that she wasn’t quite perfect intrigued him.
Toots shook her head. “I’d better not. If Abby wants you to know, she’ll have to be the one to tell you.”
“Thank you, Mom. Now can we talk about something else? By the way, Chris knew the paper was up for sale, can you believe that?”
“LA is like a small town in that respect. News travels fast, gossip even faster,” Chris said as he gazed around the crowded room. He was afraid to look in Toots’s eyes or in her friends’ direction for fear Abby would pick up on his expression.
Toots spoke quickly, her words running together. “Uh…oh, yes, I’m sure everyone in the newspaper business knows about the impending sale even if it’s a tabloid. That’s how it goes, the papers go up for sale, then create their own news. Absolutely amazing,” she said airily.
“True, but the funny thing is, you usually know who the buyer is. Word has it the new owner wants to remain anonymous. I heard the poor sucker paid triple what it’s worth. I can’t imagine anyone throwing their money away on a tabloid like
The Informer,
but I have to admit, I considered making an offer myself. With all my funds tied up in the house, I couldn’t swing it, and you know what, I’m glad I didn’t. Because with my luck, I would end up losing my shirt. It’s going to take years for
The Informer
to become a force to reckon with, at least in the tabloid market.” Abby stopped to take a sip of wine. “We’ve been third-rate as long as I’ve worked there. I suppose there is the possibility the new owner can pull it out of the sludge pile, but I doubt it.”
Triple the price! Shit!
If Toots hadn’t been sitting down, she would’ve fallen flat on her face. She cleared her throat, cast a wary glance at Chris before speaking. She wished she had a cigarette to fiddle with. “Are you planning on leaving the paper, Abby?” She hoped her voice sounded nonchalant.
Abby took a deep breath. “I’m not sure. I haven’t had any job offers, not that I’m looking, and I really don’t want to go back to regular boring reporting, so I guess that means I’ll stay until I see how the new ownership works out. If they turn out to be anything at all like Rag, I’ll probably move on, because he screwed me over too many times. I don’t see myself allowing that to continue under new ownership, and this time around I’m going to ask for a contract. Chris can make sure it’s bulletproof.”
“I’m sure that won’t happen,” Toots said matter-of-factly. “You were never fired, so that has to mean you’re good at what you do.”
Abby grinned. “Flattery will get you everywhere unless you know something I don’t know. Do you?” she asked quietly.
Chris made a mental note that Abby liked flattery. Well, who the hell didn’t?
In a voice laced with anxiety, Toots asked, “Why would you ask something like that, dear? I know as much about the newspaper business as you know about the Ladies Guild back in Charleston.”
“I’m joking, Mom.”
Before any of them could utter another word, pro or con, their waiter appeared with their dinners. Toots thought she couldn’t have timed it better if she had tried. Open mouth, insert foot. Hoping to turn Abby’s mind in a different direction, she waited until the waiter left before speaking. “You know, Mavis is on a new diet.” Lame, Toots thought. Just lame, but she had to say something.
“That’s fantastic, Aunt Mavis! I’m very proud of you,” Abby said.
“Thanks, sweetie. It was your mother who convinced me that it was time, and we all know how persuasive she can be. I’m glad she did. Though it’s only been two days, I think it’s something I can stick with. I’m going to give it my best shot. I haven’t been tempted with a pint of Cherry Garcia yet. Or as your mother so quaintly put it, ‘You don’t want to be a walking heart attack, now, do you?’”
“One day at a time,” Abby said, smiling.
“Isn’t that what they tell the drunks at Alcoholics Anonymous?” Sophie asked between bites of food.
Chris burst out laughing. “I believe it is.”
“My husband was…is an alcoholic,” Sophie retorted. “I know a thing or two about Al-Anon and the steps program. He used to tell me he was going to those meetings, but he kept coming home drunk. He had the audacity to tell me the coffee was spiked.”
“I’m sorry,” Chris said, not knowing what else to say.
“Don’t be. I’m not. My husband in name only is dying. Can you guess what he’s dying of?” Sophie bit down into a crunchy roll and then rolled her eyes. She sounded like she was discussing the weather and didn’t much care if it was going to rain or not.
“Cirrhosis of the liver?” Chris asked.
Sophie watched Chris. She realized her bluntness was making him uncomfortable. “Yep, that’s it. Look, you’re as good as family. You might as well know. I’m just waiting for the old coot to kick the bucket so I can collect his life insurance. Ours was not a marriage made in heaven, as I said. If my words offend you, I’m sorry, but you haven’t walked in my shoes all these years.” She speared a baby carrot and popped it into her mouth, her expression guileless.
“Sophie, do you think we could move on to something a little more appropriate for dinner conversation. Remember, we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves tonight,” Toots admonished.
“Who says I’m not enjoying myself? Just for the record, I am.”
“Well, just for the record, I would like to hear more about the tabloid business. You know what I’m thinking?” Toots held her hand in front of Sophie’s face. “Don’t say another word, or I’ll push you right off that chair you’re sitting in. I was thinking we should all go back to my bungalow for dessert and coffee. Or drinks, whatever you prefer.”
“As much as I’d like to, I’ll have to pass. Chester’s home, and I don’t want to leave him any longer than necessary. He doesn’t like it when I leave him alone for long periods of time. Besides, I want to see if I can find out the name of the new owner. I still have a few decent sources, and with the Internet, nothing is sacred anymore.”
Toots’s stomach did a belly flop as she jumped right in, anything to take Abby’s mind away from
The Informer.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter, dear, that’s work. Tonight is for family. You really should’ve brought Chester along. Coco, that’s Mavis’s Chihuahua, came with us. I hired a dog sitter. He works with Cesar Millan, too, so you know the dogs are being well taken care of. I’ve been thinking about getting a dog myself. Or maybe a cat. Bernice will complain or threaten to quit, but I don’t really care. I heard people who own animals have lower blood pressure than those who don’t own a pet. Mavis, Joe said your blood pressure was perfect. I think I’ll check into getting a pet as soon as I return to Charleston.” Toots babbled until she was out of breath. What she really needed just then was a cigarette. And a stiff slug of whiskey.
“Mom, slow down! Chester’s close to a hundred pounds now. I don’t know how he would act around a tiny little dog. He’d probably think it was a bug or something,” Abby said. “But before you leave to go back home, you should bring Coco to the house so they can get acquainted. We could have a love match in the making.”
Mavis nodded. “I’d like that, and I know Coco would, too. She’s used to being around animals, both large and small. My neighbor Phyllis has two golden retrievers and a dachshund. They’re all best friends, too.”
“Then it’s settled. We’re going to Abby’s with the dog before we leave.” Toots forked a bite of her now-cold quiche lorraine, wishing they could get through the rest of dinner without any more talk of
The Informer.
Suddenly she had doubts about remaining anonymous, and she wasn’t sure that she could still pull it off without Abby’s discovering that
she
was the sucker who’d paid triple for a third-rate rag. What would she do if Abby used her excellent investigative skills in her quest to find the name of the new owner even though Chris had assured her he’d buried everything deep. Although she trusted Chris implicitly, she needed assurances that deep was really
deep.
Conversation dwindled as the diners concentrated on the meals in front of them. Mavis picked at her free-range rotisserie chicken, Toots forced herself to eat the bland quiche, while Sophie stuffed her petite prime rib down as though she were attending the Last Supper. Abby munched on the famous sirloin burger, and Chris expertly twirled the linguini pomodoro around his fork.
When they finished dinner, Abby promised she would spend more time with them soon, apologizing for the short evening. Chris walked Abby out to get her a taxi. He came back to escort the ladies back to their bungalows.
Sophie reached for Mavis’s hand, suggesting a walk to work off their dinner. And it was definitely time for a cigarette. Toots was grateful the two women were leaving, because she wanted to speak to Chris alone even though she was dying for a cigarette. When they arrived back at her bungalow, Toots poured them each a shot of whiskey before they settled themselves on the sofa.
“Okay, Mr. Clay, spit it out. I know something is going on with you, and you’d better tell your dear old stepmom what it is. You were as fidgety as a two-year-old during dinner. What gives?”
Chris leaned in as close as he could without invading Toots’s personal space. “Just before I left to pick up Abby, I received a phone call from Emmanuel Rodriguez. He’s the vice president of the Bank of Los Angeles, where I have my escrow account.”
“And?” Toots said tightly.
“The wire transfer from your bank in Charleston went through just fine, all the paperwork is just as it should be.” Chris paused, not for dramatic effect but because he wanted to break the news as gently as possible.
“Then what’s the problem? I don’t understand. I’ve been dealing with Henry Whitmore at my bank in Charleston for twenty years; we haven’t had a problem yet, and I do wire transfers all the time.” Toots reached for her cigarettes and lit up, even though Chris was only two feet away from her. She inhaled deeply, then blew the smoke out in one long whoosh.
Chris looked at his stepmother, trying to figure the best way to say what he had to say.
“Will you please get to the damn point already.” Toots took another puff, blowing the smoke over her shoulder.
“It appears that your ten million dollars has disappeared,” Chris said.
Toots took a whole ten seconds before she finally found her tongue. Shaking her head from left to right so hard her topknot came loose, she crushed out her cigarette in a crystal bowl sitting on the coffee table. She immediately lit another before downing the rest of her whiskey. “Say that again, because I know I misunderstood you. My money is
gone?
All of it? That’s impossible! You said it arrived in your account. If it arrived, it can’t be gone! I don’t fucking believe this, ten million dollars gone! I hope you know where the president of that bank lives, because I want to go there right now! Now, as in
now!”