“You’d be content to see me using cheap shampoo, wouldn’t you? Well, George, if you ruin my hair during this trial, I’ll blame you publicly.”
He laughs at this. “Now that’s a new one. I’ve been the victim of many a threat as a lawyer, but hair ruination is definitely original.”
“This is California fog country. I bet you’d be held liable too.”
“I have a question for you.”
“Yes.”
“What is the difference between me giving you cash and you doing your own shopping, and me picking up your—” He stops for a moment. “Ahem, your necessities.”
“Cash makes me feel cheap and tawdry,” I announce.
He laughs again, “Morgan, you are anything but cheap, and tawdry women eat Russell Stover’s chocolates. They don’t hold out for Godiva.”
“Very funny. I’ll see you tomorrow at my dad’s place. Bring the chocolate.”
“The Feds have been through the house and may be back.”
“I understand.” I cannot help but wonder if Homeland Security is this thorough. I mean, we have no real victims, and look at their stealth handling of this case. Granted, my father probably didn’t exactly play by the rules, but that whole innocent-until-proven-guilty thing comes back to haunt me. How exactly am I innocent here if agents are trudging through my bedroom?
“Morgan Malliard.” I turn. Standing here in front of the church, a female flashes her badge at me and reminds me she’s my parole officer. As if I’d have trouble remembering that fact. You know, I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but women assigned to follow me I remember.
“I have to go, George.” I snap my phone shut and concentrate on the officer—who clearly has been endowed with healthy-sized implants. I wonder if that helps stop a bullet.
“Yes, are you here to search me?” I say, rolling my eyes.
“No, I’m just checking your whereabouts.”
“I’ve been to church, and I’m going to a friend’s house tonight. Tomorrow I’ll be on a job interview for a nanny position at a pastor’s home. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t follow me in. You might scare the children.”
Her eyes narrow at me, and I can’t help what comes out of my mouth. “You should really use eyeliner. It would make a big difference in the appearance of your eyes. They’re quite pretty.”
After a look of disbelief, the woman nods. “Thank you. Keep out of trouble.” She swings her badge shut, just like an episode of Law & Order: SVU.
She’s way cool. I wonder if I would be a good federal agent.
“I haven’t gotten married in the last twenty-four hours, so I suppose I’m doing pretty well,” I quip.
“Keep up the good work.”
Man, I need a spa treatment. Not just a measly pedicure or a pink-and-white nail fill. I need the full treatment: an enzyme peel, a moisturizing facial, a cucumber mask for my puffy eyes, a hot-stone massage, and maybe even a diamond treatment (where they put diamonds on pertinent acupuncture points). Poppy turned us on to this one (I know—it really should have been me).
I know all of the above are just habits I’ve gotten into— more of my costly addictions. My life of purpose was really summed up in spectacular grooming, and I suppose that’s not really a purpose at all. Unless you’re a chimpanzee.
Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, I’ll interview for a job and eat at home with Mrs. Henry. Maybe George will bring me some takeout with my Starbucks card. Oh heavens, I do hope Mrs. Henry is still there. I imagine if they’ve frozen our accounts, she’s not being paid, and that usually doesn’t go over well with the hired help. Even if they have been around forever.
Poppy and Lilly pull up in my convertible, giggling. Lilly’s hair is now highlighted with gentle streaks of strawberry blonde.
“You look fabulous.”
“At least I don’t look pregnant,” she says as I climb into the car.
“Mrs. Schwartz is going to be a piece of cake, Lilly. It’s your nana I’d worry about,” I say. Lilly’s face contorts into a new look of anxiety and Poppy gives me a “What are you doing?” look. Sorry, can’t help it. I know just how Lilly feels. It’s always the curve ball that gets you. You’re looking straight ahead, and bam!
chapter 28
Max’s house is all lit up like a Christmas tree as we get there. He’s obviously more than expecting us. He’s guiding us down the runway like a DC-10. I have the distinct feeling that if he could have rented a spotlight to beacon us there quicker, he would have done so. I hear Lilly taking deep yoga breaths, with Poppy whispering calming mantras to her: “This is the way things in my life have been written. God loves me. Jesus died for me. I’m married to the man I love, and I will love his mother. Even if she doesn’t welcome me with open arms, I can run to you, Father.”
“Poppy! Would you cut it out, you’re making me nervous.”
She shakes her head at me to let me know I’m interrupting their Zen.
“Poppy, we’re here,” I tell her. “She’s meeting her mother-in-law, for crying out loud, not facing the firing squad.”
“She’s facing her nana, too,” Poppy reminds me, and at that remark Lilly stiffens. We all see the comparison is easily made.
“Let’s go home!”
“This is home, honey. You’re married now.” I get out of the car and allow Lilly to exit from the backseat. I should have let her continue to drive after they picked me up, but I was worried we’d end up at Spa Del Mar instead of here. If there’s one thing the spa has taught us, it’s that while lying under a pile of sweet-smelling papaya plaster, the ugly realities of life just drift away. Farther and farther, until waking up is like a newborn being slapped as he’s brought into the world.
Nana’s apartment on the street level of Max’s house is pitch dark. Which can only mean one thing: Nana is up there as well. Together the three of us look up at Max’s brilliantly lit house and then to one another. I know what we’re all thinking. We’re all thinking that Lilly’s regular Diet Pepsi fetish and pickles sound pretty good about now. Too bad she’s on this recent health kick for the baby. Here, Poppy thought she’d suddenly cared about her health. It was just mother’s guilt.
We’re like three kids at the haunted house, each one of us wanting to run for our lives, but we’re here gaining strength from each other and it’s time to get this over. Yet we can’t seem to move.
When I first met Lilly, I thought she was kidding about her nana driving down every weekend to check on her at Stanford. Lilly was a grown woman, but somehow that message took a long time to take root in Lilly’s brain. (I suppose I wasn’t much different, except for the fact that no one cared to check on me unless I did something unworthy of the Malliard name.)
Lilly’s nana loves drama and direction. She’s been watching Days of Our Lives since its inception, and she can relate anything that happens in life to something Marlena or Bo went through. Actors always say they want to direct, but Nana just does. She’s been choreographing Lilly’s life since her son (Lilly’s father) was killed and Lilly’s mother abandoned her daughter.
Nana is the Fred Astaire of the Italian set, and Italian weddings are apparently a big deal. Therefore, getting married without her nana’s approval and wedding coordination is about as rebellious as Lilly can get. It’s worse than her rejecting the Stanford degree Nana paid for to be a fashion designer. This drama tonight has a starring role for Nana, and she doesn’t like surprises, nor parts she can’t control. All I can say is let’s hope Marlena handled this well.
Before we slam the door on the car, Max is on the porch on the second level, and I watch as he bounds down the steps like an overeager puppy. He gets to the iron gate that separates him from the world, and he zeroes in on Lilly. He doesn’t notice her hair; he’s far too manic and I suppose it is rather dark under the orange street light.
“What took you so long?” Max wonders.
“I got my hair done,” Lilly says, waiting for her compliment. “And Morgan w
ent to church. I didn’t think I should turn away my friend’s spiritual enlightenment.” She looks at me, and we both smile.
“Are you ready for this?” Max asks.
“I brought backup. Did you prep them?”
“I told her you were after my money and poorer than a church mouse.”
“Great, that should help. Did you warn her about my hair?”
“Your nana has stuffed her full of lasagna. I think she has less fight in her than an hour ago.”
“What about Nana?”
“She is buzzing around like a springtime bee spreading her sunshine. She thinks we’re announcing our engagement tonight.” Max reaches for Lilly and kisses her cheek. I’d like to say she dissolves into his warmth, but she’s a nervous wreck, and his kiss only causes her to weaken until her knees buckle.
“Just think how excited they’ll be that we’ve already taken care of the details for them,” she says sarcastically, matting down her hair out of habit.
“You’re denying Nana the chicken dance and hiring an accordion player. It’s every Italian grandmother’s dream to have an accordion at the wedding. She told me so.”
“Max, you are not helping,” I say.
“You know, what is your nana’s maiden name, Lilly? I always thought it was weird your last name was Jacobs. How Italian is that?” Poppy asks.
“It’s Puccinelli, actually.” She raises her eyebrows to Max. “Does that scare you?”
“Not if she taught you to make lasagna like that.” He pats his stomach.
Lilly purses her lips. “You eat lasagna like that every night, and you’ll look like Pavarotti. Is that your goal?”
“I’m a TV writer. It’s almost expected that I be a couch potato.”
Lilly eyes Max’s strong, muscular body and wiggles her eyebrows. “As if I’ll let you get away with that. I did not marry eye candy for nothing. My papa did not live a long life, Max. Remember that when you’re going for seconds.”
The two of them smile and zone into each other, grasping each other’s hands. I’m disgusted. I mean, do I really need to be witness to this? It’s like my lawyer having abs of steel. What is the point of that? God says He’ll never send me a temptation I can’t stand under, but you know, I do believe I am reaching my weight limit.
“Can we get this over with?” I hear it come out of my mouth, but I’m as stunned as anyone I said it. I am usually the epitome of decorum. Something is not right here. I think the fog is affecting my brain. Of course, there is no fog tonight, but maybe the invisible stuff is worse for you.
Poppy and I follow Max and Lilly, feeling completely out of place, but silently hoping there’s a little lasagna left. It’s just what I need to make me feel better: abs of veal.
Mrs. Schwartz is at the doorway, and in a split second, I see her gaze scan Lilly’s frame and come back up with a warm, albeit fake smile. I’d know that princesslike you-can’t-tell-what-I’m-thinking smile anywhere. I have perfected it.
“Lilly Jacobs, aren’t you just beautiful?” Mrs. Schwartz grabs Lilly’s hands, pulling her from Max’s grip. “Well, you just must tell me how you met my son.”
I have been friends with Lilly too long to not know what she wants to say. What she wants to say is that she hog-tied him and poured alcohol down his throat until he confessed his love. I see her sly smile towards Poppy and me, and we start to giggle. Sometimes, it’s really not a good thing to be so in tune with your warped friends.
“There’s not much to tell actually. He rented the apartment to my nana, and we just got to know each other over time. When he broke his leg at the hotel, I helped care for him.”
“Isn’t that sweet? Just like Florence Nightingale.” Mrs. Schwartz looks to me and Poppy. She focuses in on me and drops Lilly’s hands. “Morgan Malliard, is that you?”
I nod, biting my lip.
“Max, I didn’t know you were friends with Morgan.” Mrs. Schwartz walks away from Lilly and stands before me. She’s wearing a flawless diamond the size of a bottle cap, and it completely distracts me from her face. I know how much that diamond is worth, because I can see all the facets, all the light and colors gleaming under the dim light and there’s not a spot to be seen.
“Perfect,” I say aloud.
“Mr. Schwartz bought it for me in Barbados. It is perfect, but then, I’d guess you’d know.”
I pull my gaze away from the diamond and focus on her deep brown eyes. They’re so much like her son’s, only far more critical. I see that Max and Lilly have one more thing in common. They were both raised under the watchful eye of female hawks.
“Mrs. Schwartz.” I nod pleasantly. “Lilly and I went to Stanford together. She helped me with my studies.”
“You might have taken a lesson from her in dating. She appears to be more accomplished in that arena.”
That was below the belt.
“Not all of us can attract the attention of Max Schwartz. There’s only one of him, after all.” Fake-princess-smile right back atcha.
“Mom, Nana.” Max claps his hands and forces everyone’s attention toward him. He walks over to Lilly and puts his arm around her. “I know you’re all expecting an announcement of sorts, but I think what we have for you is not what you’re expecting.”
“I don’t like surprises, Lilly and Max.” Nana drops a wooden spoon she’d been drying and wipes her hands on her apron. Her expression softens. “Unless of course, you’re going to tell me something I’ve been waiting to hear.”
Max draws in a deep breath, sticking his chest out. “Lilly and I have lived our lives alone for a long time. I’m thirty-five, she’s thirty, and we’re people who know what we want.”
I wish I could crawl under the sofa about now. Lilly’s hands are trembling, and the two elder women do not look like they’re willing to hear whatever’s about to come.
Mrs. Schwartz lifts her chin and gives a tight smile. “What is it you want, Max? I would think your lives are both very successful and that you should take time to be grateful.” Her smile fades. “You’re not going on one of those ridiculous mission trips, are you?”
Max laughs. “No, Mother, God hasn’t called us to the mission field—although I wouldn’t rule it out just yet.”
“Us?” Mrs. Schwartz asks. “Did you get a pet, my dear?”
Max gets fed up with the constant barrage and blurts out the truth. “Us, Mother. My wife and me. Lilly and I got married over a month ago. We went up to Tahoe and did it because we didn’t want the fuss. All right?” He tightens his clasp on Lilly, who looks ready to faint.
Poppy and I stand there looking from Max’s mom to Nana, waiting to see who takes the first strike. Since Nana seems to be momentarily stricken with apoplexy, it falls to Mrs. Schwartz. Her face tightens and a muscle starts to tic in her jaw, but she waits until she’s paced the length of the room before she speaks. “I see,” she says quietly. “I must say I’m surprised.” She looks at Lilly. “If for nothing else that you design wedding gowns for a living, and yet you eloped to Tahoe.”
She’s looking at Lilly as if she’s the ultimate betrayer. I suppose Lilly was nice enough when she wasn’t a part of the family.
“Max, you’re one of San Francisco’s leading bachelors. You’re just going to walk away from that with no fanfare whatsoever? How am I supposed to explain this?”
“I imagine you’ll do it the same way you told the world I wasn’t involved in the family business. I’m the black sheep.”
“Lilly Jacobs!” Nana’s found her voice. Poppy’s and my heads swing to her like we’re watching a tennis match. “Lilly Jacobs, this had better be a joke.” Her face is as red as a ripe tomato, and all sense of peace has left the room. Both she and Mrs. Schwartz are now pacing, but when Max’s mother sees her own reaction is the same as Nana’s, she halts in her steps.
With a nod at each other, Max and Lilly split to their respective fights. Lilly takes her nana to one side, and they begin to whisper in loud, ugly tones. I see Mrs. Schw
artz sit beside her son and pat his leg. The one he broke in three places and still limps on. Her expression has softened, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s only because she doesn’t want to be associated with Nana’s behavior. But I literally witness the fight leave her as she looks at her son and pats his leg again.
“She’s a sweet girl,” Mrs. Schwartz says while watching Lilly defend herself against Nana. Truthfully, I’m not sure she means it, but it’s obviously a way to get through to her son. “I think you’ll be very happy. You might want to find Nana a new place to live, though.”
Mother and son laugh. Max pulls back and says, “Do you mean that?”
She smiles. “I want what all moms want. I want my son to be happy, and if Lilly Jacobs—excuse me, Lilly Schwartz— makes you happy? That makes me happy. But if you’re still into praying, I’d ask that you get your father an heir. He was worried you might be gay, so I imagine this will come as a pleasant surprise. That’s why he sent you that beautiful Russian girl. Once you rejected her, he was convinced.”
I see Max considering telling the rest of their news and deciding to wait. He laughs out loud. “She is gorgeous, isn’t she, Mom?” he says, watching Lilly, whose hands are flailing as she talks to Nana.
“Did you give her Grandmother’s ring?”
He nods. “It’s being sized.”
“I knew it was coming, once you gave the matching brooch, so I’m not completely surprised.”
“How will you tell your friends?”
“Oh please, everyone’s kid is living with this person or that. They’ll be more mortified you got married. It’s so old-fashioned.”
I watch mother and son giggle together, and I try to remember when I ever had such a conversation with my father. Even watching Lilly with her Nana makes me long for what they have.
“At least you didn’t marry that flighty Malliard girl.”
The two of them stop speaking and look at me.
Poppy takes my hand. “Well, pleasure seeing you all. Morgan and I have to run. She’s got a big job interview tomorrow. Big job interview.”
“No, I don’t have to rush off,” I say, unwilling to be bullied by restless talk.
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