be late to Cressida Houghton's house.'
'Look. I'll show you. We take PGA Boulevard to highway One-A, highway One-A for ten miles to Hobe Sound, and then a right over the bridge. Verger Taylor lives east of the bridge, Cressida lives west. So we take a right. How simple can you get?'
'Don't you tell me about simple. You'll drive us into a canal. There's a directory of the residents of this condo around here somewhere, isn't there?'
'Yeah. By the phone. Why?'
'I vote we ride in with Evan and Corrigan. They live here. Let's call them and go with them.'
'No,' said Quill firmly. 'N. O. No. I'm not getting any more involved with the Taylor family than we are already.'
'Okay,' said Meg. 'You've got one more chance. Hobe Sound in an hour, or I never ride with you again. And just in case, we leave at six.'
'We'll be really, really early.'
'Then we'll drive around and look at the view.'
'This isn't Hobe Sound,' said Meg some time later. 'That sign says Jupiter Beach.'
'Jupiter Beach is near Hobe Sound,' Quill said with a confidence she was far from feeling.
Meg picked up the map and eyed it. 'It's at least six miles in the wrong direction. Turn here.'
Quill peered through the Mercedes windshield. 'That road says 'private.' '
'They aren't going to arrest you if you turn around. Which is what you need to do if we aren't going to be later than late at Cressida's.'
'We still have plenty of time. It's just past six-thirty.'
'Thanks to me.'
'And stop calling her Cressida,' Quill said irritably.
'She asked me to call her Cressida! Quill, dammit, look out.'
The left bumper of the Mercedes struck a solidly built mailbox. Quill craned her neck over the side of the convertible and pursed her lips.
'Well?' Meg demanded. 'How is it?'
'It's a mailbox. Not a very nice one, I'm afraid. The pedestal is one of those jockeys in a red-and-white outfit that used to be black and are now painted white. It's dented slightly. Thank goodness I didn't hit those gold lions. That would have been a real mess.'
'I don't mean the mailbox, Quill. I meant this super- duper expensive car lent to us by the charming and charitably inclined Tiffany Taylor. How much does this thing retail for?'
Quill thought a moment. 'Sixty or seventy thousand.'
'Fine. Just fine. So if you figure that left front bumper is what-one twentieth the value of this thing-we're looking at a thousand dollars worth of damage. Easy.'
'Fifteen hundred.' Quill said. 'Your math sucks. It always did.'
The blare of a car horn made both of them jump. Quill turned around in her seat, groaned audibly, and put the Mercedes in park.
'What is it?' Meg asked. 'More important, who is it? The cops?'
'Turn around and look for yourself,' Quill hissed.
'I'm not turning around. I have nothing to do with this. I was the one who wanted to take a cab, remember?'
'What the hell you two braodies doin' here?'
'Hello, Mr. Taylor,' Quill said.
Meg turned around. Verger Taylor was coming through the rear door of a large silver Cadillac. His chauffeur was a blur behind the tinted windshield.
'Sorry,' said Quill. She eyed the mailbox, which had been knocked askew. The little jockey underneath it had a woebegone expression on its concrete face. The name on the box - in fold letters - said V. Taylor. 'This is your driveway?'
'Yeah. What the hell happened?'
'We took a wrong turn. Sorry. We're were looking for Ms. - I mean Miss - Cressida,' Quill said lamely. 'We had no idea this was your driveway.'
'Would that have saved my fuckin' mailbox?' he chuckled. 'Women. Who says they can drive? You want Cressy's, you want to continue down that beach road for three miles. She's on the beach side.' His face softened, and for a moment, Quill thought, he looked quite appealing. 'You can see her place from here, at night.'
'Is there a green light on the dock?' Meg cracked. Then, at his frown of incomprehension, 'Never mind. Sorry about the mailbox.'
'Don't worry about it. Wouldn't expect less from you women drivers.'
Quill gave him a thin-lipped smile, got into the convertible, and turned the ignition on. She pulled ahead, let the Cadillac drive by, and reversed into the street.
