"Who's that?"
"Hello, Louey," Mason Lord said. "This is your ex-father-in-law. How are you feeling this morning? It is morning, isn't it?"
"Yes, damn you, it's morning. So Molly went home to Daddy, did she?"
"I suggest you get yourself back here, Louey. You can make the Lufthansa flight from Frankfurt to Chicago."
"I can't, I-"
"Today, Louey. There are many things we need to talk about. Perhaps you have some explaining to do."
They heard a woman's voice in the background. "Who is that, Louey? Why are you breathing so hard?"
Molly laughed. "Bring her along, Louey. No one wants you to get lonesome." She hung up.
Ramsey looked ready to burst into laughter. He said, "If it were between a grand jury and your father, I'd bet any day on your dad getting him home."
"Oh yes," she said, and yawned. "He's good at scaring people's socks off."
"I like your hair," he said, surprising both of them.
She blinked at him. "My hair? What did you say? You like my hair?"
"Yes," he said. "I do. It's substantial, your hair. I like all those curls. It's good hair."
"Well, I like your hair too."
He began to laugh. She joined him. The door opened and Mason Lord looked in. "What is going on here? Why are you two laughing?"
Molly just shook her head. "Will we be picking Louey up at O'Hare?"
Mason Lord looked back and forth between them. "I think Judge Hunt should pick Louey up. That would catch the little bastard off guard."
Ramsey merely nodded. "I'd be delighted. I've got lots to say to Mr. Santera. I'll use my old prosecutorial style."
"My daughter," Mason Lord said precisely, "doesn't have nice hair. She looks like a grown-up Little Orphan Annie. She has her grandmother's hair."
He'd had it. Ramsey walked up to Mason Lord. He got right in his face. "Why don't you tell Molly how happy you are to see her after three years? Why don't you tell her that she's got brains and grit and you're about the luckiest guy alive to have her for your daughter?"
Mason Lord turned on his heel and left the bedroom. Ramsey knew he'd gone too far. Mason Lord was enraged, nearly over the edge. But when he turned in the doorway, it wasn't Ramsey he went after. He said, his voice low and vicious, "Don't bother wasting your time sleeping with her. Louey said she was a cold lump in bed. No fun at all. Of course I had to have him disciplined when it got back to me what he'd said, but there it is anyway."
Molly didn't fold at all from the hurt of his words. Instead, she said, her voice filled with amusement,
"Well, Louey's the expert, isn't he? Bottom line, Dad, I'm really glad I didn't get some disease from him."
She saw her father pause a moment, and then he was gone from her view.
Ramsey said, "The two of you are quite the duo. Look, Molly, you're an adult. I know it must hurt when he goes after you, but kiss it off. It's not important. There are lots more important things to think about and the most important is standing right there."
"Mama, why is Grandfather angry?"
Emma was standing in the doorway, her hair long and tousled, her nightgown with its pink bows nearly to the floor. She was clutching her piano against her chest. It was nearly as big as she was.
Ramsey said, "She needs a doll."
"Your grandfather wasn't what you'd call really angry, Em. It's late and he's older, you know? Older people get cross quickly when they get tired."
"Boy, what a whopper."
"Be quiet. Em, Ramsey is just trying to make a joke. I'm going to give him lessons. Now, come back to bed. I'll tuck you in."
"I'll come with you." Ramsey walked to Emma and picked her up in his arms. "This piano weighs a ton, Emma. I think I'll have to remove an octave."
Emma reared back in his arms and looked at him closely. "That was funny, Ramsey. Not as funny as Mama, but funny. Has she given you a lesson already?"
"Thank you, Emma. She hasn't yet given me any lessons at all. Actually, I came out with that one all on my own." He took the piano, handing it to Molly. Emma sprawled against him, her head on his shoulder.
She sucked her fingers.
There was a queen bed in the bedroom. It was Molly's old room, he realized. There wasn't a ruffle to be had. What there was were bookshelves all up and down one wall, filled with paperbacks and hardcovers, piled indiscriminately. On the other wall were photos, dozens and dozens of photos. Many were framed, most were arranged lovingly and carefully on corkboards.
"Mama takes pictures," Emma said to Ramsey when he laid her on her back. "She took all these when she was young."
"I see," he said, and leaned down and kissed Emma's forehead. He stroked her hair back from her face.
"You go to sleep now, Emma. I don't want you worrying about anything, all right?"
"You won't leave, will you, Ramsey?"
He'd already made that decision, with Molly's help, but still, what if something happened? Something he couldn't foresee made him leave?
She whispered, "You don't know if you should tell me the truth. It's all right. Everybody lies. Except Mama. She never lies."
"Is that so?"
"Yes," Emma said. "Mama, will you come to bed soon?"
"Yes, love, in just a little while. Ramsey and I have bunches of things to discuss."
She turned off Emma's light, but left the door ajar. Just a slice of light shone into the room from the three Tiffany lamps standing at intervals in the wide corridor.
Ramsey said, "I won't leave you, Emma, unless I have to, and then I'll tell you first."
Emma didn't say anything.
"We can hear her if she has a nightmare," Molly said quietly as she followed Ramsey back to his room.
"Now," he said once they were in his bedroom, "tell me what you think we should do."
"Beat up Louey Santera again."
"After we beat him up."
She sighed. "I don't know, Ramsey. So much has happened."
"One of the first things is to take Emma to a doctor and to a child shrink."
"Yes," she said. "I've been thinking about that. I don't want to take her to her regular pediatrician. He's a man. I want to take her to a woman."
"That's probably smart."
"I'll make calls tomorrow, get some names. Where do you think those men are, Ramsey?"
"If they're here, they're cursing a blue streak. There's just no way in here. Miles told me he has six men patrolling the grounds around the clock. I think this place is more secure than the White House."
"I heard Mason tell Gunther to bring in another three men to patrol. He's not taking any chances."
"He loves you and Emma."
"Yeah, right. It's all a matter of possession. He just doesn't want anyone messing with something he sees as his."
"Whatever it is, it's still a start. We'll see. Tomorrow-" He rubbed his hands together. "Tomorrow I'll get to meet dear Louey face-to-face."
"It won't be one of the high points of your day. Trust me."
"As Emma would say, you made a joke."
"Sometimes truth's funnier than fiction."
LOUEY Santera was furious and it showed. His mouth was tight, his lips a skinny pursed line. Then he saw a reporter and the fury was masked immediately by a charming smile and a little-boy shrug. "Hi," he said to the reporter, turned, and gave a smile to the accompanying photographer, then saw Molly and gave a wave.
The reporter, a longtime friend of Ramsey's, said cheerfully, "I hear you flew back, breaking concert dates, when you heard your little girl was kidnapped."
"I couldn't leave immediately," Louey said, nose sharp, on the alert instantly. "I naturally came back as soon as I could."
"Is it true your little girl is safe and at her grandfather's house? Her grandfather is Mason Lord, isn't that right?"
"Yeah, he is her grandfather, and yeah I heard she was at his house. It's over now, thank God. Did you hear? My concerts went great, too."