Preoccupied with that revelation, when Lilly’s phone rang, she absently pulled it from her pocket and accepted the call without first checking the caller ID.
“There you are,” her aunt said in her Southern voice that still had Spanish moss dripping from it though she’d left New Orleans for Los Angeles thirty years before. “We’ve been wondering what happened to you.”
Lilly stiffened. “I gave you money on the first of the month, like always.” A preemptive payment, she’d found, kept them at bay most of the time. During her first year of full-time employment, they’d guilted her for different cash amounts on an irregular basis. The unpredictability of their requests had left her edgy and anxious. Giving them a standard amount on the same day every month had solved at least some of the problem.
“Your uncle Claude’s truck broke down last week.”
But it hadn’t solved all of the problem.
As her blood pressure began to rise, Lilly pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and tried reminding herself she didn’t need to respond.
“And François…” Aunt Mariellen said her son’s first name with a flourish that the thirty-one-year-old wouldn’t appreciate, as he was known to his bar-mates as Frank. “Well, the poor boy broke a tooth and needs to get it fixed.”
“How awful for him,” Lilly said. “How did that happen?”
The ensuing silence told her what she needed to know. Frank had likely gotten in a fist fight over a beer tab, someone else’s woman, or the color of the sky at night.
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” her aunt said, a hint of steel in her voice.
“You’re right, you’re right,” Lilly heard herself hasten to say, the inner abandoned kid in her responding to any hint of censure from this woman.
“I told François you are so grateful for all those years we kept you and cared for you, that you’d want to help a little more this month.”
A mix of misery and frustration roiled in Lilly’s belly. She placed her palm there, rubbing in small circles to contain the bitterness. Now was not the time to debate the word “care” or mention the lump sum Lilly’s maternal grandmother had given her uncle and aunt for her upkeep when her mother had gone MIA.
“He and your uncle Claude dropped by your offices this afternoon hoping to pick up a check. The people there said you were out for a few days.” Her aunt sounded affronted by the idea.
Lilly fought the urge to appease her. Old habits die hard. “That’s right,” she said in a neutral voice. “I’m in Santa Barbara, at The Hathaway Hotel.” The instant the words left her mouth she wished them back. She’d only meant to make clear she was far enough away that she couldn’t drop what she was doing and rush them funds. Mentioning the resort, however, would be sure to catch the other woman’s avaricious interest.
“The Hathaway Hotel,” she said. “Aren’t you fancy?”
“Not really.” Lilly, however, made a mental note to increase her monthly payment to them by 10 percent, regardless of how that would disorder her personal budget. “Someone else is picking up the bill.”
“Lilly.” Aunt Mariellen was practically purring now. “Have you finally snagged yourself a wealthy benefactor?”
“No.” She raked her fingers through her hair. God. The other woman said “wealthy benefactor” like some character out of a Southern Gothic play. “It’s nothing like that.”
“I wouldn’t look down on you, even if he’s married,” the older woman assured her. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
“This girl can take care of herself and her own bills,” Lilly said stiffly. Not to mention yours.
The other woman clicked her tongue. “No reason to get defensive. I didn’t raise you to be so snappish.”
“Yes, well.” Lilly took a long breath and decided it was time to end the call before she indulged in her new habit of throwing phones. “I have to go now. When I get back to LA, I’ll see about getting you some extra funds if you still need them.”
Without waiting for a reply, she ended the call and powered off the device.
“Who were you talking to?” Audra said, reentering the living area from her room.
“Oh, just one of the reasons I can’t afford a therapist.” Because of the money Lilly paid the Durands each month and because no amount of time with a mental health professional would manage to loosen the barbed wire binding her heart.
“Claude or Mariellen?” Audra asked, who knew nearly all of Lilly’s secrets.
“Mariellen. Claude’s truck broke down. Frank broke a tooth.”
“Let me guess. In a bar brawl over someone else’s girlfriend, the last buffalo wing on the platter, or what you do with grass when it gets too long.”
Lilly sent her friend a smile. “This is why we’re BFFs. Our minds work in such similar ways.”
“We are similar,” Audra agreed. “For different reasons, we’ve avoided taking risks and are over-anxious about the possibility of making mistakes.”
“Um, thanks for that,” Lilly said, now uncomfortable.
Audra shrugged. “I meant to ask before, have you heard anything from Alec? Anything about Jacob, I mean?”
Fresh guilt poured into Lilly. Not only had she not asked Alec if he’d heard from the ex-groom, but she’d still not told the other woman that the Thatchers were vacationing at The Hathaway and that she’d spent some time with them. “Um…well…”
She swallowed, hard, aware she was stalling like mad. “About Alec…”
Audra pointed a finger at her, gun-pantomime style. “‘Thinkin’ Bout You,’ Frank Ocean.”
Their game, the one that identified the right song for the precise moment. But if Lilly recalled, that song was about some guy mooning over a lover—or an ex-lover? In any case, it didn’t work in this case. “I’m not pining over Alec,” she said. “It’s just that…well…”
Audra just stared at her, unblinking.
Her friend’s pale blue eyes acted like interrogation lights and Lilly found herself babbling her confession. First, that he and his family were also staying at the resort. Next, that she’d found herself in his company more than
