Devoted to Drew. Loree Lough

      “Remember when I said we’d make one heck of a couple,” he began, “if I were older?”

      Deidre blushed. “How could I forget? You made the inane announcement in front of the entire cast of Guys and Dolls!”

      “That’s right. Which is exactly why you owe me one.”

      “Owe you? For what!”

      “For giving the wannabe actors who follow you around a new way to butter you up in the hope of snagging a leading role.”

      “Don’t flatter yourself, handsome. I’ve heard ’em all. Now, bring your ornery self in here so I can introduce you to my pretty young friend. Bianca Wright, meet Griffin Gerrard.”

      He stopped several feet from Bianca’s chair and cocked his head to the side, as if trying to remember if they’d met before. “Call me Griff. I’d shake your hand, but as you can see,” he said, showing his grass-stained palms, “your old friend here is a real slave driver.”

      “Careful who you’re calling old, dollface, or I might show up at your fancy-pants office and tell your fancy-pants clients that their high-priced lawyer didn’t read his lease before he signed it.”

      “Didn’t think I needed to, friend.” Griff pretended to frown. “If I’d known you had added a Work for Cheap Rent clause...”

      “You’re so full of stuff and nonsense, I’m amazed it doesn’t leak from your ears!” Deidre leaned closer to Bianca to add, “Only reason I tolerate this young rascal is because his father and my dear departed Percy were the best of friends.” Eyes on Griff again, she snorted. “You know as well as I do there’s no such clause in our lease. And wasn’t it just your good fortune when the Patapsco River overflowed its banks and flooded your entire first floor—and an exterminator said he’d need to tarp the house—that you could rent a room from me, instead of checking into a hotel for months?”

      “A tarp?” Bianca echoed. The image of a house overrun with bugs sent a shiver down her spine. “Sounds serious.”

      He sat on the arm of the sofa. “Could have been worse,” he began, “if I hadn’t caught it early. Kept hearing this tick-tick-ticking in the walls.” Griff clicked his thumbnail against the nail of his index finger. “All day. All night. One day it drove me crazy enough to tear down a sheet of paneling, and I found evidence of wood bores feasting on the studs.” He counted on his fingers. “So in the past month, I’ve hired one contractor to vacuum water out of the basement and seal the foundation, two more to replace the plumbing and wiring and another to waterproof the cellar walls. And when they’re finished, an exterminator will tarp the house and pump a truckload of insecticide inside. Unless he’s a con man, the stuff will kill the wood bores’ eggs, too.” He shrugged. “But nobody forced me to buy a hundred-year-old house.”

      Deidre leaned closer to Bianca. “Do you believe in coincidence?”

      “I suppose. Maybe. Sometimes.”

      “Well, for your information—oh mistress of certitude—this handsome lawyer here is like this,” Deidre said, crossing her fingers, “with your Logan.”

      What did she mean by her Logan?

      “Ah, now I know why your name sounded so familiar,” Griff said.

      His comment made even less sense than Deidre’s. Even after studying Logan’s press kit she knew very little about him, and he knew even less about her. What could he have shared with Griff?

      She might have put the question to him if Deidre hadn’t chosen that moment to hop up from her chair.

      “Goodness gracious sakes alive!” Bangle bracelets and the hodgepodge of beads and chains wrapped around her neck rattled and clinked as she jogged into the foyer. “I need to be at the theater in half an hour.” After pulling a tube of lipstick from her blue silk trousers pocket, she leaned into the big oval mirror and added a layer of bright red to her puckered mouth. “We’re doing Dial M for Murder,” she said, repocketing the tube. “If you two want to come on opening night, say the word and I’ll save you a couple of tickets.”

      “Dee. Dahling,” Griff said, “you know as well as I do that Hitchcock plays aren’t my cup of tea.”

      “The way you butcher a British accent, it’s a good thing you didn’t audition for the play!” She fluffed gleaming, chin-length white tresses. “How ’bout you, Bianca? Think Drew could sit through two hours of mystery and mayhem?”

      Not without earplugs, a blindfold and a prescription for Ritalin, Bianca thought. “Maybe in a few years, when he’s a little more mature.” Someday, she hoped, the day would come when Drew could enjoy things like movies in a real theater or live performances onstage. “But thanks for the invitation.”

      Deidre grabbed her cloak from the hall tree. “Tell your mom to call me, Bee-darling,” she said, whirling it around her shoulders. “Haven’t seen her in weeks. Bet she could use a night off, poor thing.”

      Poor thing? Not once since her mom moved in had Bianca taken advantage of the situation. She dropped Drew off at school—where he stayed for seven hours every day—and picked him up again. Did the laundry, cooking, shopping and cleaning...most of it in the middle of the night to free up daytime hours for Drew. Poor thing, indeed! Evidently, Logan wasn’t the only one talking out of turn.

      Deidre slung a huge hand-painted hobo bag over one shoulder and jangled her keys. “Well, I’m off! If I’m not back before you turn in tonight, Griff dahling, make sure the front door is locked, won’t you?” She bussed Bianca’s cheek. “Don’t forget to have your mom call me!”

      Then she raced out the door with a dramatic flap of her satiny black cape.

      A second, perhaps two, ticked by before Griff said, “She sure knows how to make an exit, doesn’t she?”

      “The same can be said about her entrances.”

      “What is she...sixty-five? Seventy?”

      “She’ll be seventy-six on her next birthday.”

      “The way she moves?” Griff shook his head. “That’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”

      Bianca nodded, then shouldered her purse. Griff seemed pleasant enough, but she had no desire to discuss the lady of the manor—or anything else, for that matter—with this near stranger.

      “Well, I’d better go,” she said. “It was nice meeting you.” She moved toward the door, but Griff got there first.

      “Same here,” he said, opening it. “When you see Logan, tell him I said hey....”

      He didn’t know it, but he’d just provided the perfect opening for her to call Logan and ask for help with the dog. “Met your friend today.... He asked me to say hi.”

      “...and that his Articles of Incorporation are ready.”

      Was it Griff’s stance or knowing he was a lawyer that reminded her of the way Jason had loved to bait her with ‘are you smart enough to know this?’ tests?

      The memory roused a foul mood, but she shrugged it off.

      “Nice meeting you,” she repeated and ran down the porch steps. Just how close was he to Logan? Because...birds of a feather and all that.