Paradise Lost

although I have my sus­picions, I don’t know who that person is yet. When I do, you’ll hear about it.

When my editor asked if I would be willing to chronicle my experiences and share this painful journey with you, my readers, I said yes immediately. Why? Because I understand that, no matter how hurtful it may be for all concerned, we will all learn things from it—things we all need to know.

Maggie MacFerson

Astonished by what she had read, Joanna was in the process of reading through it a second time when she heard Butch’s voice. “Why, look who’s here. Why aren’t you up in the room? Did you lose your key?”

Joanna looked up to see Butch walking across the spacious lobby accompanied by a tall, willowy blonde. Butch left the woman behind and hurried around a massive brass-and-glass coffee table. Reaching Joanna’s side, he bent over and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“This is my wife, Joanna Brady,” he said, turning back to the woman, who had paused uncertainly on the far side of the table. “I didn’t make her change her name, and she didn’t make me change mine,” he added with a grin. “Joey, this is a good friend of mine, Lila Winters. She used to live here, but she’s moving to Texas now. She came for the wedding, of course. We’ve been reminiscing about old times.”

Caught unawares, Joanna took a moment to gather her wits, stand up, and offer her hand. “Glad to meet you,” she said.

Blond, blue-eyed, and with palely luminescent skin, Lila Winters was beautiful in the same fragile, delicate way that expensive English porcelain is beautiful. She wore a blue denim pantsuit the top of which was decorated with a constellation of rhinestone outlined stars.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Lila said. “Including the fact that you’d been called out of town on some kind of official investigation.”

Simultaneously, Joanna Brady made several quick calculations. If Lila Winters was such a good friend of Butch’s, why hadn’t he ever mentioned her name before? And why hadn’t the name Lila Win­ters been on the guest list to Joanna and Butch’s own wedding back in April? There could be only one answer to those two damning questions. Butch and Lila had to have been far more than just “good friends.” And since Butch had evidently been away from his hotel room all night long, there could be little doubt that he had passed the time in the company of that selfsame “good friend” while Joanna had been stuck driving up and down freeways, doing her job, and looking after her daughter.

“Yes,” she said levelly. “I’ve had my hands full. And I guess Butch has been pretty busy, too.”

Lila gave Joanna an appraising look, then she nodded at Butch. “Thanks for breakfast, Butch,” she said. “And for everything eke, too,” she added. “See you at the wedding.”

With that, Lila Winters turned and walked slowly across the lobby. Meanwhile, Butch turned back to Joanna.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

She gazed at him in stony silence and didn’t answer for several long seconds. “What do you think it was about?” she demanded finally. “I come in after being out working all night—after trying to call you time and again—and find you haven’t slept in our room. And them I meet you with someone I don’t know, someone who obviously knows you very well. ‘Thanks for breakfast, Butch,’ ” Joanna mimicked sarcastically. “ ‘Thanks for everything.’ ”

“Joanna . . .” Butch began.

Flinging the newspaper down on the table, Joanna stalked away, leaving Butch standing alone in the lobby. At the hotel entrance she handed her parking receipt over to the parking attendant. “I need my car right away,” she said.

Butch picked up the newspaper from the table and hurried after her. “Joanna, what’s going on? Where are you going?”

“Out,” she snapped. “It’s getting a little stuffy in there. I need some air.”

Joey, it’s not what you think, really. I can explain everything.”

“I’m not interested in your explanations,” she said. “Now go away and leave me alone!”

By then the parking attendant had returned, bringing the Crown Victoria to a stop under the portico