"What is it?" She darted toward the living room in her bare feet. She couldn't decide on the shoes until she'd decided on the earrings. "For heaven's sake, Simon, we have to leave in a few minutes, and I'm not—" Her jaw dropped, mimicking her son's as she looked out the front window with him at the black stretch limo sliding in behind her ancient hatchback.
"It's the biggest car I've ever seen in my whole life !
"Me too," Zoe replied. "He must be lost."
"Can I go out and see?" He grabbed her hand, tugging on it as he did when particularly frantic. "Please, please, please! Can I go touch it?"
"I don't think you should touch it."
"A man's getting out." Simon's voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "He looks like a soldier."
"He's a chauffeur." She laid a hand on Simon's shoulder as they peeked out the window together. "That's what they call people who drive limousines."
"He's coming to the door !"
"He must need directions."
"Can I just go out and look while you tell him how to get someplace? I won't touch it or anything."
"We'll ask." She took Simon's hand and walked to the door.
Simon was right, she thought as she opened the door. He did look like a soldier—tall and straight, with a military bearing in his black uniform and cap.
"Can I help you find someone?" she asked him.
"Ms. Zoe McCourt? Master Simon McCourt?"
"Ah." She tugged Simon a little closer to her side. "Yes."
"I'm Bigaloe. I'll be driving you to Mr. Vane's this evening."
"We get to ride in that?" Simon's eyes went wide and bright as twin suns. " Inside ?"
"Yes, sir." Bigaloe gave Simon a quick wink. "In any seat you like."
"Sweet!" He pumped a fist, gave a hoot, and would have charged to the limo if Zoe hadn't hauled him back.
"But we have a car. And a dog."
"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Vane sent this."
Zoe looked down at the note Bigaloe held out, recognized the stationery. "Simon, you stand right here," she ordered, and released his hand to open the envelope.
The single sheet of letterhead read:
Don't argue this time either.
"But I just don't see why…" She trailed off, undone and defeated by the desperate plea in Simon's eyes. "We'll be out in just a minute, Mr. Bigaloe."
"You take your time, ma'am."
The minute she closed the door, Simon threw his arms around her waist. "This is so awesome!"
"Yes. Awesome."
"Can we go now? Can we?"
"All right. Get your jacket, and the present we made for Bradley. I need my purse." And my shoes, she thought. It looked like it would be the marcasite earrings tonight.
The minute they were out of the house, Simon made a beeline for the car, then skidded to a halt to wave wildly at the Hansons, who stood on their front porch.
"We get to ride in a limousine!"
"Isn't that something?" With a wide grin, Mrs. Hanson waved back. "Just like a rock star. I want to hear all about it tomorrow."
"Okay. This is Mr. Bigaloe," Simon announced when the driver opened the door. "He's going to drive us to Brad's house. That's Mr. and Mrs. Hanson. They live next door."
"Pleased to meet you." Bigaloe tipped his cap, then offered a hand to Zoe. "The dog can ride up with me, if that suits you."
"Oh. Well, if he's no trouble."
"Look at that, John." Mrs. Hanson gave her husband's hand a quick squeeze. "Just like Cinderella. Just hope our girl's smart enough not to go running off when the clock strikes."
There were little glass vases with fresh flowers beside the tinted windows. And little lights, like faerie lights, streamed along the floor and the roof.
There were a television and a stereo, and buttons to work everything on a panel just above her head.
Everything smelled like leather and lilies.
Simon was already crawling over the long seat along the side to poke his head through the opening to the limo's cab and peppering Bigaloe with questions.
Zoe didn't have the heart to stop him. And it gave her a moment to try to adjust.
After that moment she gave up. It would take her a year to adjust.
Simon came sliding back. "Moe likes it up front, and Mr. Bigaloe's letting him stick his head out the window. And Mr. Bigaloe says I can touch anything, because I'm the boss. And I can have a soda from the ice place over there if you say so, 'cause you're the boss of me, and I can watch TV in the car. Can I?"
Zoe looked at his bright and dazzled face. On impulse, she caught that face in her hands, gave him a loud, smacking kiss on the mouth. "Yes, you can have a soda. Yes, you can watch TV in the car. And look, look up here. You can make the lights go on and off. And there's a telephone."
"Let's call somebody."
"You do it." She picked up the phone and offered it. "Call Mrs. Hanson. Won't she love that?" "Okay. I'm going to get a soda, and turn on the TV, and call her so I can tell her."
She giggled with him, and played with the controls, and drank a ginger ale just so she could say she had.
When they arrived at Brad's, she took Simon's hand before he could reach for the door handle. "Mr. Bigaloe's supposed to come around and open it," she whispered. "That's part of his job."
"Okay." When the door opened, Simon popped out and looked up at Bigaloe. "That was really good. Thanks for driving us."
"It was a pleasure."
"I guess you could tell it was our first time in a limo," Zoe said when he helped her out.
"I don't know when I've enjoyed driving anyone quite so much. I'll look forward to taking you home when you're ready."
"Thank you."
"Wait until I tell the guys." Simon grabbed the leash and let Moe pull him to the door. "They're not going to believe it."
Before Zoe could tell him to knock, he was pushing the door open and shouting for Brad. "Brad! We watched TV in the car and called Mrs. Hanson and had sodas. And Moe rode up front."
"Sounds like a busy ride."
"Simon, you're supposed to knock. Moe!"
The dog had already made a dash for the great room and the sofa.
"He's all right," Brad told her as Moe leaped on the cushions and stretched out like a furry sultan. "We're getting used to him around here."
"We brought you a present." Dancing in place, Simon thrust the box into Brad's hands. "Mom and I made it."
"Yeah? Let's go back to the kitchen and open it up. Just let me get your coats first."
"I can do it. I know where they go." Simon yanked off his jacket and bounced on his toes until Zoe handed him hers. "Don't open it until I'm there."
"Okay."
"I want to thank you for sending the car," Zoe began as they started toward the kitchen. "Simon's never going to forget it. It was a big thrill for him."
"Did you enjoy the ride?"
"Are you kidding?" She let out a laugh that was still tinged with wonder. "It was like being a princess for twenty minutes. Except we played with all the buttons and the television, so I guess it was more like being a kid for twenty minutes. But you didn't have to do something like that, go to all that trouble."
"It wasn't any trouble. I wanted to do it. I knew Simon would get a kick out of it, and I didn't want to worry about you driving home in the dark. And," he added as he pulled a bottle out of a silver bucket, "I wanted you to be able to relax and enjoy this really nice champagne."
"Oh. Even without the note you sent it would be hard to argue about all that."
"Good." He released the cork with a cheerful little pop and was pouring the second flute when Simon ran in with Moe behind him.
"You gotta open the present now. It's a homewarmer present."
"Housewarming," Zoe corrected, and hooked her arm, the way she often did, around Simon's shoulder. "A belated one, to welcome you back to the Valley."
"Let's see what we've got." He undid the bow, feeling a bit foolish, since he already knew he would save the lacy white ribbon and the little spray of tiny red flowers she'd tucked into it. She'd stamped or stenciled silhouettes of those flowers on the simple brown box, and had nestled the gift inside on a bed of white tissue sprinkled with glitter.