“Sounds like a hard worker.”
“Very. He got into real estate right out of college. Started off as a clerk and worked himself up. But it’s taken a toll. He’s got a bottle of Maalox in his briefcase.”
She was silent for a moment. “One big happy family, huh?”
Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back again.
“You know, it’s strange, but as we talk right now I’m starting to get in touch with bits and pieces of memory—about being sent to California that summer.”
“In touch how?”
“Like bits of—light. Poking through a piece of fabric. I can’t really explain it . . . it doesn’t feel bad.”
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing specific, just the bits and pieces—like something on the tip of your tongue? It’s almost as if the corners of my mind are being pulled back and I’m peeking through but I can’t see clearly. . . .”
She frowned. Her forehead knitted.
“Nothing more,” she said, opening her eyes. “But it doesn’t seem weird anymore—being up there and not remembering. It’s as if I’m getting in touch with my own history.”
I thought of the nanny Ken had mentioned. Enough for one day.
“When can we do this again?” she said.
“I can see you tomorrow. Two o’clock at my house.”
“Great.”
“In the meantime, I assume you want me to ignore Lowell’s invitation.”
I expected a quick reaction, but she put her finger to her lip and thought. “I guess the only reason to talk to him would be to find out what he’s up to. And maybe I should do that myself.”
“That’s a lot to bite off, right now,” I said. “If you want to scope him out, I could listen to what he has to say and report back to you.”
“Believe me, I’m not rushing off to have a tÊte-À-tÊte with him. But if I send you to represent me, that’ll just show him I’m weak.”
“He already knows you’re seeing me. And why should we care what he thinks?”
“True,” she said. “But I don’t want anything to do with him, directly or indirectly. I’d rather put my head in the oven—just kidding.”
We went back into the house.
“You know,” she said, “maybe I’m being too rigid. I guess it would be okay for you to meet with him if you think it could do any good.”
“I can’t promise you it would.”
“Are you interested in meeting the Great Man?”
“I’m interested in meeting someone so destructive.”
“A psychological specimen, huh?”
That wasn’t what I’d meant, but she went on.
“Putting him under the microscope—okay, go ahead. Meanwhile, I’ll concentrate on relaxing. Getting comfortable with my unconscious.”
I was surprised to find Robin and Spike home.
“The electricians didn’t show up,” she said. “The truck broke down.”
“Probably in the parking lot at Dodger Stadium.”
“No doubt. I left the drywallers there, figured I’d get some work done here, and then maybe you and I could go out and have some fun.”
“Fun? What’s that?”
“I think it’s something the Chinese invented. They invented everything, right?”
She put her arms around my waist and her face against my chest.
“Actually,” she said, “I’m glad the turkeys flaked out. I’ve been thinking about how little we’ve seen of each other lately.”
“When it’s all done,” I said, “let’s go away somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Some remote island without phones or TV.”
Something bumped my ankle. I looked down and saw Spike staring up at us. He cocked his head and snorted.
“But with air-conditioning for the pooch,” I said.
Robin laughed and bent to pet him.
He began breathing hard, then rolled over on his back, paws up, offering his beer gut. As Robin scratched him, he grumbled with pleasure.
Once in a while, things are simple.
CHAPTER
22
At nine-thirty that evening they got complicated.
We were watching a bad old movie, laughing at the dialogue, when the phone rang and Milo said, “There’s someone I thought you might like to meet. Right in the neighborhood, actually.”
“My neighborhood?”
“Must be. I see the ocean.” He gave me a name, then an address in Paradise Cove.
“Oh.”
“Trailer park, right near the Sand Dollar.”