Lily, who’d been staring at him like he had sprouted a TV antenna from his head, said, “Why did I ever think I loved you? You’re the biggest jerk.”
“I’m not, I’m just trying to understand you, to make you face things. Besides, that’s what Dr. Rossetti thinks.”
Lily began laughing, rich, deep laughter that didn’t stop for a good, long time. Finally, wiping her eyes, she said, “You’re really good, Tennyson, both you and Dr. Rossetti. You combined all your shrink analysis with some pills to drive me over the edge, and no wonder I wanted to do away with myself. So I made the guy up to assuage my guilt. Do you know what, Tennyson? I think I’m just about over blaming myself.”
Charlotte said, “Lily dearest, I’m glad to hear you say that, actually-”
Lily interrupted her mother-in-law. She was waving Tennyson away even as she said, her voice light, amused, “Please go now, both of you. I hope that I’m lucky enough never to see either of you again.”
Sherlock said, “Oh, I hope we do see them again, Lily. In a courtroom.”
Savich said suddenly, “Your first wife, Tennyson. I don’t suppose Lynda’s fondest wish was to be cremated?”
Tennyson was shaking so much from rage, Sherlock was sure he was going to go after her husband, a singularly stupid thing for him even to consider. She stepped quickly to him, laid her hand on his forearm and said, “Don’t even think about it. You couldn’t take me and I’m half your size. Even five days after surgery, I doubt you could take Lily either. So please just leave, Tennyson, and take your mother with you.”
“I am appalled that you have relatives who are so very close-minded and obnoxious, Lily,” Charlotte Frasier said, her words smooth out of her mouth. They left, not another word out of either mouth, but Tennyson did pause to give Lily a tormented look over his shoulder.
Sherlock said thoughtfully, “He was trying to reproduce a patented Heathcliff look there, all down-in-the-mouth and pathetic. He didn’t do it well, but he tried.”
Lily said, “Did you notice that lovely black turtleneck sweater Tennyson was wearing? I gave it to him for Christmas.”
“You know what I think, Lily?” Savich asked, shaking his head at her. “I think the next time a guy appeals to you, red lights need to flash in your brain. Then we need to take him in for questioning.”
“I was just thinking about that this morning. Maybe I’m too gullible. Okay, no more good-looking men; actually, no more men at all, Dillon, or I’ll kick myself from here to Boston. Nothing but gnomes with pocket protectors for me in the future, and they’ll just be friends.”
That was going overboard, Sherlock was thinking, but for the time being, not a bad way for Lily to think about the opposite sex.
Lily said, “I wish I had a beer so I could drink to that.”
Savich said, “No beer. Here’s more iced tea.”
“Thanks.” Lily sipped the tea and laid her head back against the pillow. “I wonder where my father-in-law was. You think they really thought he’d be a liability?”
“Evidently so,” Savich said. “What amazes me is they don’t seem to realize what a liability the both of them are.”
“I’ve never heard such a charming Southern accent,” Sherlock said. She sat down on the bed beside Lily and lightly rubbed her arm. “Talk about candy coating.”
“She frightened me more than Tennyson.” She gave both of them a fat smile. “I held up,” she said, gave a deep sigh, and said again, “I held up. He never guessed that I was so scared.”
Savich felt her pain in his gut. He gathered her against him, very careful with her stitches. He kissed the top of her head. “Oh no, sweetheart, there isn’t a reason for you to be afraid of him, ever again. I was proud of you. You held up great.”
“Yes, you did, Lily, so no more talk about being scared. Remember, you’ve got your two bulldogs right here. You know something? I don’t know what they thought they could gain by coming here. They didn’t try to be very conciliatory. Are they stupid or was there some method to their approach?”
“I surely hope not,” Lily said and closed her eyes.
Savich’s cell phone rang.
11
Washington, D.C.
Three days later
“You go to bed now, Lily. No arguments. You look like a ghost out of A Christmas Carol.”
Lily managed a small smile and did as she was told. She was still weak, and the long plane trip back east had knocked her flat. She awoke an hour later to hear Dillon and Sherlock talking to Sean. They cuddled, hugged, and kissed him until finally he was so exhausted he hollered big time for about two minutes. Then he was out like the proverbial light. His nursery was right next to the guest room, where she lay quietly in the dim light. She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear itched her cheek. She wiped it away.
She closed her eyes when she heard her door open slightly. No, she wasn’t ready to see anyone just yet, although she loved them both dearly for caring about her so very much. She pretended to be asleep. When she heard them go downstairs, she got up and went into the baby’s room. Sean was sleeping on his knees, his butt in the air, two fingers in his mouth, his precious face turned toward her. He looked just like his father, but he had his mother’s dreamy blue eyes. She lightly rubbed her fingers over his back. So small, so very perfect.
She cried for the beauty of this little boy and for the loss of Beth.
Late that evening, over a good-sized helping of Dillon’s lasagna, she said, “Have you checked back with your office? Did they find Marilyn Warluski?”
Savich said, “Not yet. They found the boyfriend, Tony Fallon, but he claims she hasn’t contacted him. But there were a couple of folk in Bar Harbor who identified a photo of her, said they’d seen her recently. They’re going back to put his feet to the coals. We’ll know something soon.”
“We hope,” Sherlock said. Then she smiled. “You should have seen Dillon’s mother when we picked up Sean-she didn’t want us to take him. She said we’d promised her at least a week with him all to herself, but we’d lied; it was barely a week. She was shouting ‘Foul’ even as we were pulling out of her driveway.”
Savich shook his head. “Now he’ll be so spoiled that we’ll actually have to say no to him a couple of times to get him grounded back into reality.”
“I bet Mom would love to baby-sit him on a regular basis,” Lily said.
“Well,” Savich said, “she’s got her own life. She’s his treat; two or three times a week he gets big doses of Grandma. It works well that way. Our nanny, Gabriella Henderson, is the best. She’s young, so she’s got the energy and stamina to keep up with him. Believe me, he can wear you down very fast.”
Lily was laughing, looking over at Sean, who was seated in his walker, a nifty contraption that let him scoot all over the downstairs. If he ran into something, he just changed directions.
Savich said, “Those wheels are bad for the floor, but Sherlock and I decided we’d just have them refinished when he moves on to crawling and walking.”
Lily said slowly, “Isn’t it strange? I never imagined you with a kid, Dillon.”
Savich smiled and helped her down on his big stuffed chair. “I didn’t either, but here came Sherlock, blasted right into my comfortable life, and it just seemed like the right thing. We’re very lucky, Lily. Now, sweetheart, we’ve been traveling all day and you’re jet-lagged, probably really bad what with the surgery a week ago. I want you to sleep at least ten hours before you face the world here in Washington tomorrow.”