“I guess we have to. You once told me that family was family and there was nothing you could do about it. You just made the best of it and went about your business. Hopefully Mom and Dad will try to act normal for the day; hopefully Douglas won’t start screaming at Candice and then go slaver over my mother. Oh yeah, there’s Conal Francis, Belinda’s father, my mother’s first husband. He’s called my mother. My father is livid.”
“Families are grand. Any idea what’s going to happen there?”
“Not a clue, but it should be fun to see it played out. I don’t think I’ll invite him, though. My shot at trying to keep the peace. You know, Sally Quinlan said a big wedding was great sport. You don’t want to?”
“Well, hell, let’s go for it.” He kissed her nose, then her chin.
“We don’t have to worry about the BMW. Dad just bought a Porsche, a fire-engine red 911. He said even Mom on her worst days couldn’t possibly think he’d want to hit her driving that beauty. He laughed then. He said her new shrink is making progress. He’s even had sessions with her. Also, Mom’s on some new medication.”
“Families. Ain’t they great?”
She kissed his shoulder.
“Oh yeah, I’ve got another piece of good news for you. They caught the guys who were murdering those abducted kids in Missouri. Ollie’s gut was right. It happened really fast. Turns out that it was three young males, all twenty-one, who were reported to a local FBI agent by one of the girlfriends who was angry because her boyfriend kicked her out for another babe.” He laughed. “I just heard that they just caught up with the girlfriend. She’d skipped bail and took off for Mexico City with all the money.”
She laughed with him. “I’ll bet Ollie is pleased.”
“Yep, but he wanted to be the one to make the arrest. Oh yeah,” he added, raising his face just above hers, “your wedding present from me is arriving tomorrow. You took the day off to see your doc so I set up the delivery.”
She grabbed his arms, hugged him, then shook him. “What is it? Tell me, Dillon, what did you get me?”
“I ain’t talkin’, honey. You can just wait for now, but I sure want to hear something out of you when I come in tomorrow night.”
“You won’t even give me a hint?”
“Not a single one. I want you to wallow in anticipation, Sherlock.”
She sighed, then punched his arm. “All right, but I’ll probably be too excited with all this anticipation to sleep. Would you sing me just one line?”
He blinked, then raised his head and sang, “I don’t know nothin’ better than a spur that’s got its boot.”
“All right, that’s not enough. More.”
He kissed her ear, then her throat. “I don’t know nothin’ better than a barb that’s got its wire.”
She laughed and snuggled closer. “More.”
“I don’t know nothin’ better than a glass that’s full of scotch.”
“More.”
“I don’t know nothin’ better than a poke that’s got his cow.”
“And the last line?”
“No, I don’t know nothin’ better than a man who’s got his mate.”
“Oh, Dillon, that’s the greatest.”
“Goodness, you’re easy.” He kissed her mouth. “No, my sister didn’t write that one, I did. You like that? You’re not putting me on, are you? You appreciate the finer points of my music?”
“Oh yes,” she said. “Oh yes.”
“I wrote it for you.”
She gave him a radiant smile. “I just thought of another verse.”
An eyebrow went up.
She sang in an easy western twang, “I don’t know nothin’ better than a fetlock with its horse.”
“A team,” he said. “We make a great team. What’s a fetlock anyway?”
She just grinned up at him. He stroked his fingers over her soft skin. He began kissing her and didn’t stop for a very long time. When he was finally on the edge of sleep, he wondered what she’d play for him first on the new Steinway grand piano that was being delivered tomorrow.
The Maze Page 36
